A woman stood there. Gleaming black hair, ice-blue eyes, her beauty so extraordinary, her sexuality so explicit, I couldn’t stop myself from sucking in a stunned breath at the sight of her.
This was a mistake.
When I gasped, her eyes, which were fastened on Lucien, sliced to me.
She, too, pulled in breath through her nostrils.
In an instant, her face contorted with primal rage.
In the next instant, she attacked.
Her target?
Me.
Chapter Ten
The Confrontations
She flew at me and when I say that I mean it literally.
She was a streak, a blur, my mortal eyes couldn’t make out the lines of her body.
She didn’t get close.
Three feet away from me, she came into definition.
This was because she was halted, Lucien’s arm around her waist.
Then Lucien twisted, executing a near-blur, full on, powerful hurl that would have been awe-inspiring if it hadn’t been so freaking scary. She was a streak again, going backwards with tremendous velocity until she slammed against the wall. The plaster behind her buckled in a body-like shape, white dust and paint chips raining down around her as she fell to a graceful crouch, completely unharmed.
Her head snapped back, her seething eyes pinned on me. With only a moment’s delay, she sprang toward me again in another blurry attack. And again she was stopped, this time when she was, her whole body still swayed toward me.
Her whole body, that was, except her head and her neck.
Lucien had her by her throat. Just one hand at her throat, the muscles in his arm and back bunching as he took two steps and slammed her against another wall, more plaster breaking, more debris falling.
Lucien got close to her and I saw his fingers squeeze.
“You just made a fatal mistake, Katrina,” he gritted from between clenched teeth.
His fury matched hers, maybe surpassed it. I knew this because his jaw was working so hard a muscle leapt there.
I stood frozen not only from what I just witnessed but that I was just almost attacked by what amounted to Lucien’s wife.
His wife!
And she was stunning. She was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. I had to admit that even if she wanted to tear me limb from limb.
Her incensed gaze slid from me to Lucien.
“You’ve f**ked her. I can smell it.” Her voice was deep, throaty, seductive. It wasn’t throaty because her husband held her by the throat but just because it was.
“I haven’t f**ked her,” Lucien replied truthfully and I thanked God at that moment that it was, indeed, the truth. Then, presenting more evidence he was the demented sort of vampire, Lucien finished with, “Yet.”
Her fisted hands slammed into the walls at her sides breaking clean through the drywall before her body started thrashing wildly to gain release.
In a delayed effort of self-preservation, I took several hasty steps back.