to keep shifter blood out of the Nex’s hands.” He stopped and a flashed a quick smile that made him appear younger than a man in his late thirties. “But I will.”
Mary rather liked Wilde’s dry sense of humor and smiled. Talent, however sneered as if he’d been punched. “I work alone. Always have.”
“Not this time, Master Talent.” Wilde set the file down. “Any more questions?” He pulled a gold watch from his pocket and frowned. “I’m needed elsewhere in about five minutes.”
The sound of Talent’s teeth grinding filled the room. “I was under the impression Mistress Chase was here in a clerical capacity.”
“You hoped,” Mary corrected. “Otherwise, I have grave concerns regarding your propensity for jumping to conclusions.”
Talent leaned his weight on the table as his gaze bore into her. “Keep baiting me, Chase, and you’ll find out what else I have a propensity for.”
She leaned in as well, until they faced each other like dogs in a pit ring. “I am quaking in my knickers.”
“There you go again, mentioning your knickers.” His mouth slanted, and his eyes gleamed. “What I cannot discern is if you only do so to me, or if you want the whole of the SOS to be thinking about them.”
“Why Master Talent, are you trying to tell me that you think about my knickers?”
His lips pinched so tight that she had to bite back a grin. A low growl rumbled from the vicinity of his chest.
“Children.” Director Wilde’s expression was stern, but his eyes held a glint of amusement. “The discussion is over. You will work together on this.” His good humor fled. “And you will not fail the SOS. Now,” he motioned to the door with his chin, “take your squabble out of here. Perhaps you can pull Mistress Chase’s braids in the common room, Master Talent.”
Mary might have laughed at the way Talent’s high-cut cheeks flushed with irritation, but she stood and gave Wilde a graceful curtsey. “No need, Director. I am done here as well.” She wanted out of this room. Lord knew she needed a head start. For one thing was certain, Talent was far from done with her.
On the outside, Mary knew she appeared serene as she left the meeting room. On the inside, however, she quivered in anticipation. A calm before the inevitable storm. And that storm was right on her heels.
Although, in truth, Jack Talent reminded her more of a panther, all dark and brooding, his powerful body so still when at rest, yet capable of instant, violent action.
Mary headed down the corridor, knowing that, while he made no sound, he stalked her. The skin at the back of her neck prickled, and her heart whirred away within her breast. With his shifter’s senses, he’d hear her spinning heart, she was sure. It was torture not to quicken her step or turn around.
By the time she reached the shadowed corner that led to another section of headquarters, her breast rose and fell in agitation. Damn him.
And damn her too, for some small, traitorous part of her liked the chase, reveled in it. Gripping her weapon, she waited until his heavy hand fell upon her shoulder, and then she spun.
He grunted as they both hit the wall. The hard expanse of his chest barely gave under her weight as she pressed against him. For a moment, they both panted, then his gaze lowered to the knife she had at his throat.
She expected his rage, but not his grin, that wide, brilliant grin that lit up his dour features and did strange things to her equilibrium. His cheeky smile grew as he spoke. “Pulling iron on me, Chase? How bloodthirsty.” His hot breath fanned her cheeks. “I knew you had it in you.”
But he had no idea.
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
From the desk of Kristen Callihan
Dear Reader,
I write books set in the Victorian era. Usually we don’t see women with careers in historical romance, but one of the best things about exploring this “other” London in my Darkest London series is that my heroines can lead atypical lives.
In WINTERBLAZE, Poppy Ellis Lane is not only a quiet bookseller and loving wife, she’s also part of an organization dedicated to keeping the populace of London in the dark about supernatural beasts that roam the streets—a discovery that comes as quite a shock to her husband, Police Inspector Winston Lane.
Now pregnant, Poppy Lane develops a craving for all things baked, but most especially fresh breads. Being hard-working, however,