“Shit,” she gasped, panic instantly replacing pleasure on her pretty face. “Let me go, Nathan.” When he didn’t immediately release her, Jordana’s voice rose. “Dammit, let go!”
As soon as he had, she flew to the other side of the elevator car and hit the intercom switch on the emergency panel. “It’s okay, Seamus. There’s nothing wrong. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Are you sure, miss?”
“Yes, of course.” Her voice sounded more than a little out of breath to Nathan, but the guard downstairs didn’t seem to notice enough to remark on it. Jordana canceled the stop button and the lift resumed its ascent. “We’re moving again, Seamus. I don’t know what the problem was, but everything’s back to normal now.”
Back to normal.
Nathan studied the woman who’d been writhing and moaning under the illicit touch of his hand just a minute ago. Now Jordana smoothed her skirt back in place with crisp efficiency. She reached up to finger-comb her loose platinum waves, then adjusted her disheveled blouse. Crossing her arms over herself like a shield, she blew out a long sigh.
She was trying to become Jordana Gates again, retreating back into her carefully constructed, perfectly proper cocoon. She glanced at him now, no longer watching him through passion-drowsed eyes but eyeing him with a look that was equal parts bewilderment and shame.
Nathan said nothing to ease her discomfort. His body was still raging with hunger for her, and there was a darker side of him that wanted to see how quickly he could have Jordana surrendering to him again, panting and crying out in pleasure, once he had her alone in her penthouse.
He moved up close behind her, giving her a good long feel of his stiff erection against her backside. He ground into her with his pelvis, wanting his intentions to be clear. With his head lowered, he placed his mouth near the delicate pink shell of her ear.
“Until I say otherwise, we’re still on my terms, Miss Gates,” he warned her, his voice rough and thick with promise. “Don’t think I’m finished with you yet.”
She shivered as he spoke his erotic threat, and he could sense her slow, spreading smile as the car came to a stop on her floor.
The doors slid open, revealing the black wrought iron grate that secured the white marble vestibule of Jordana’s lavish apartment.
The grate was ajar. Someone waited inside.
A Breed male, seated on a delicate, velvet-upholstered antique chair, his head down, forearms braced on his knees. A dark wool coat was folded over his lap as if he’d been sitting there for some time.
“Elliott.” Jordana practically squeaked the vampire’s name.
He lifted his head at once, worry etched deeply into his face as he stood up to greet her. “Jordana, thank God. I—” His eyes narrowed the instant he spotted Nathan behind her. Disapproval and suspicion ate away his look of concern.
Jordana stepped off the elevator and walked into the vestibule. “Elliott, what are you doing here?”
He didn’t look at her at first, instead stared coldly at Nathan, lurking behind her.
Nathan didn’t so much as blink under the outraged scrutiny of Jordana’s would-be mate. Part of him flared hot with the urge to haul Jordana against him and kiss her like he had in the elevator—show Elliott Bentley-Squire that she would never belong to him.
But a possessive display like that was unnecessary.
The other Breed male could smell freshly spent desire on Jordana as easily as any of their kind, and Nathan’s still-rampant erection—to say nothing of his amber-swamped eyes and elongated fangs—was equally hard to overlook.
Nathan would have ripped apart any male who had the bad judgment to lust after a woman he cared for, let alone touch her. Yet the Darkhaven lawyer seemed to let the affront slide with little more than a bitter scowl.
Nathan had a mind to throttle the undeserving man simply for his lack of reaction.
Bentley-Squire swung his frown on Jordana. “I tried reaching you tonight, several times. When you didn’t return any of my calls, naturally, I became worried something might have happened to you. Did you get my voice messages?”
“I worked late,” she murmured. “Did Seamus let you in?”
He scoffed. “I don’t need a human to give me permission to make sure you’re all right, Jordana. Where have you been?”
Panic spiked in her, a feeling so intense and visceral, Nathan could practically hear the sudden race of her heartbeat from where he stood near her. She swiveled her head in his direction, and there was misery in her wintry blue eyes.
“I was out, with Carys. We were at La Notte.” Her voice quieted then, an apology swimming in her gaze. “I had one too many drinks, so Nathan kindly offered to drive me home.”
Bentley-Squire grunted, his lips pressed flat in disapproval. “I didn’t realize the Order was running a chauffeur service.” Sneering, he glanced once more at Nathan. “How much do I owe you for taking care of my lady tonight?”
Vibrating with menace, Nathan had already calculated ten different ways he could kill the male. He said nothing, half hoping Bentley-Squire would be fool enough to try him.