A Hunger So Wild(3)

“Vashti,” Syre admonished in a warning tone. He was too much of a gentleman to make the clean breaks that would spare him a lot of messy confrontations.

She didn’t have such qualms. “He wanted you, he had you, and you had a good time. There’s nothing else beyond that.”

“What are you?” the lovely blonde shot back. “His pimp?”

“No. That would make you a whore.”

“Enough, Vashti.” Syre’s voice cracked like a whip.

“You’re so jealous,” the blonde hissed, her perfect features contorting from her frustration and hurt. Her emotional spil age contrasted sharply with her pristine, perfect exterior. Her sleek chignon, fashionable pil box hat, and tidy feminine suit were so cool compared to her heated response. “You can’t stand that he’s with me.”

Sadly, the woman couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Vash would give up everything but Charron to see her commander happy again. If it would have made a difference to do so, she would have pointed out what a striking couple they made—the regal blonde and the debonair dark prince. But the heart Syre’s mortal wife had awakened in him had died along with her.

“I’m trying to save you from weeks of humiliating yourself,” Vash said as kindly as possible.

“Fuck you.”

“Diane,” Syre said firmly, straightening and moving to catch her by the elbow. “I’m sorry to have to end our pleasurable association so abruptly, but I can’t al ow anyone to speak to Vashti in that manner.”

Diane’s cornflower blue eyes widened and her painted mouth formed an astonished O. She stumbled along beside him as he led her out of the room. “But you al ow her to talk to me the way she did? How can you?”

When Syre returned, alone, his handsome features were grim. “You’re in a mood today,” he said curtly.

“I just saved you from a week or more of begging and pleading. You’re welcome. And you need a mistress.”

“My sexual proclivities are none of your concern.”

“Your mental wel -being is,” she shot back. “Find someone whose company you enjoy and keep her around. Let her look after you a bit.”

“I don’t need the complication.”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated.” She dropped into one of the seats in front of his desk, her hands smoothing her sleek khaki pants. “I’m talking about a business arrangement. I don’t understand it myself, but there are some women who can have sex just because it’s fun. Set one up in a nice place and give her an al owance.”

Syre shook his head. “You are becoming my pimp.”

“Maybe you need one.”

“I’m insulted by even the concept of f**king a woman who feels obligated to comply.”

Her brow arched. “There isn’t a woman alive who would find it a chore.” Even she, a woman who was happily mated to the love of her life, wasn’t immune to Syre’s sexual appeal. He was the kind of man that hit a woman right between the eyes every time she saw him. Sensuous, seductive, hypnotic.

“You wil cease talking about this.”

“No, I won’t. You need someone to care about you, Samyaza.”

The use of his angelic name thrust home her seriousness. His gaze sharpened and narrowed as he sank into his chair behind the desk. “No.”

“I didn’t say love you. Care about you. Someone to make you coffee in the morning, just the way you like it. Someone to watch a rerun on television with you. You know, just someone who’s around who knows you and wants good things for you.”

Leaning back, he set his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingertips together. “I’ve been asked to explain you at times. Explain what you are to me. I haven’t come up with the right answer yet. You are my second, but you’re not merely a subordinate officer to me. We’re more than friends, yet I don’t view you as a sister. I love you, but I’m not in love with you. I am aware of your beauty as any man would be, yet I’m not interested in sleeping with you. You are the most important woman in my life and I’d be utterly lost without you, but I would never want to cohabitate with you.

What are you to me, Vashti? What gives you the right to discuss such personal matters with me?”

She frowned. Categorizing what they were to each other was something she’d never done. For her, their relationship just…was. She was an extension of him in many ways.

“I’m your right hand,” she decided, then she tossed him the object she held.

He caught it deftly, his reflexes quick and agile. “What is this?”