Undiscovered Angel Page 4

“You’re suggesting we use her for bait?”

  “Not exactly.” But wasn’t it exactly what he was doing? Still, he’d already put her in danger, as Luca so thoughtfully pointed out, so keeping her with him was really the best course of action. The pulse pounding attraction he felt for her had absolutely nothing to do with it. Nope, nothing at all.

  “But…” Luca began, but Kassian held up a hand to stop him.

  “Not now, Luca…I just… not now. Now get out of here and get Elle Gates protected and get everyone up to speed.” His tone suggested that Luca drop the subject of Kat Shephard for the time being, and wisely, he did.

  “Yeah…I’m going, I’m going.” Before the door closed behind him he was punching a code into his cell and barking orders.

  Kassian crossed to the bedroom, quietly cracked open the door, and stuck his head inside. Kat remained deeply asleep, burrowed into the linens so that only the wild tumble of her fair hair spread out like a golden curtain against the dark sheets was visible. He was irritated to realize the he liked seeing her curled up in his bed. She looked like she belonged there. He swore softly. He would always put her in danger. Kassian did not want to be that man. It was simply better for everyone concerned if he steered clear of this. His lifestyle wasn’t fair to any woman. Fighting the strong draw he felt toward her was already a problem. And regarding anything supernatural, he would bet she was as completely in the dark as the majority of the human population. Figuring she would sleep for a while yet, he grabbed a clean pair of jeans and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower might ease his tight muscles, but a cold one was probably the better bet to ease the unwelcome tightness he felt elsewhere.

  ****

  Kat struggled awake through the dark layers of dreamless sleep. She felt a curious lethargy and vaguely registered the muted sound of running water. With eyes still closed, the caress of satin sheets instead of serviceable flannel against her skin told her immediately that she was not in her own bed. Swallowing her alarm, she struggled to recall the events of the previous evening. Her head throbbed as she remembered the evil crippling her, and then there’d been nothing except dark oblivion. Logically, she knew she must have passed out from the pain. But where was she and how had she gotten here? She groaned silently into the pillow. Way to hover in the background, Kat.

  Cautiously, she opened one eye and surveyed her surroundings. She was lying in the middle of an enormous bed that was expensively dressed in black satin. The room itself was huge, furnished in sleek, modern furniture, the far wall comprised entirely of closets shuttered in black, lacquered doors. The sound of running water from behind the closed door to her right had stopped. She assumed it was a bathroom. But whose? The only things in the room that looked at all familiar to her were her black cocktail dress hanging on a closet door, her clutch on the dresser, and a gray jacket carelessly thrown over a chair, a jacket she recognized as the one Kassian McAllister had been wearing the previous evening. Oh, God! What had she done? A quick glance under the sheet told her that at least she was still wearing her black lace slip. Surely she would remember if they…? But he had been able to influence Elle’s actions with his mind last evening…no, NO, there was no way…she would remember if anything had happened between them. Wouldn’t she?

  She struggled to a sitting position, clutching the slippery sheet to her breasts with one hand while pushing the heavy mass of tangled blonde out of her face with the other. She had only a moment to notice there was no indentation in the other pillow to indicate that anyone had slept beside her. Then, the bathroom door opened. Kassian McAllister filled the doorway surrounded by a halo of billowing steam like a denim clad god rising from the mist. His chest and feet were bare, and his unbuttoned jeans rode low on his slim hips, exposing the taut, defined muscles of his flat belly. His dark hair tumbled around his shoulders in damp disarray. He looked impossibly appealing, a monument to masculinity in faded jeans and a shadow of stubble. The butterfly parade in her stomach started all over again and her throat felt too dry to swallow.

  “Um, hi,” she offered cautiously, biting her lip. What exactly was the appropriate small talk for waking up half dressed in the bed of a psychically powerful, extremely hot mystery man you’d hardly met, with no recollection of how you got there or what might have happened once you did? Sure, the only Emily Post column on etiquette that she’d missed. Figures.

  “I…um, guess you were taking a shower.” She closed her eyes and stifled a groan. Good one, Captain Obvious.

  ****

  Kassian was momentarily stunned senseless at the sight of her, warm and sleep tousled, watching him with wide, worried eyes from the middle of his bed. It wasn’t as though he’d never seen a woman there before, though his usual preference in bedmates ran to experienced, jaded women with their own agendas. The choice was deliberate. They were nothing more than temporary distractions. And he never invited them to stay the night. Kat Shephard was in a league all her own. She had an unconscious innocence completely lacking in the others; simply looking at her jumpstarted every protective and erotic instinct he had. He’d hoped that maybe he was mistaken, but his lust hadn’t cooled in the grim light of day. He noticed her white knuckling the sheet, and realized she wasn’t quite as indifferent as she was trying to appear.

  “Hi,” he replied, moving forward slowly to balance cautiously on the edge of the bed, not wanting to make her any more nervous and uncomfortable than she already was. “I didn’t think you’d be awake yet. How do you feel?”

  “A little confused,” she admitted slowly. “I remember the party …and then this overwhelming sense of evil…” She shook her head thoughtfully. “I’ve never felt anything quite like it.” She was still too pale and trembled noticeably as she recalled the evening. “There was so much pain…and then, nothing. It was like everything just went black. I guess I must have passed out?”

  She raised her wide gray eyes to his, and he saw the questions and the faint shadows that still lingered. He couldn’t resist that innocent need for reassurance. He reached out, intending to place an encouraging hand on her shoulder, but instead found himself burrowing a hand into the softness of her hair and cupping the side of her neck. He’d only intended to comfort her, but the feel of her demanded something more. His thumb lazily stroked along the curve of her jaw then rubbed across her full bottom lip. Her pulse raced against his palm and he heard her breath stop, and then stutter. He leaned closer until he was only a breath away, eyes roving her face with a predatory awareness as he shifted on the bed to relieve the discomfort of the heavy fullness suddenly straining his jeans. Her eyes widened in alarm, but she didn’t pull away. He had to taste her, if only once.

  Kat’s lids fluttered down as he moved closer. He nearly groaned aloud when he felt her mouth against his, warm, soft, seeking. The moment their lips met, the tight, iron shackle binding Kassian’s heart shattered in a million pieces. His hand slid around to her nape as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking the crease in her lips until she opened for him. He felt her tentatively lay one soft hand on the smooth, hard expanse of his chest, and his muscles jumped in involuntary response. She raised the other to his unshaven cheek, the stubble rasping against her fingertips as she lightly stroked his face. His breath hitched at her touch and he shifted again. True to its nature, the satin top sheet began to slide. In a heartbeat he was off the edge of the bed, landing hard on his backside. He sat back and regarded her incredulously. She burst out laughing, her smile wide and genuine, eyes dancing with silver stars.

  “Did you hurt anything?”

  “Only my pride,” he acknowledged ruefully. He rocked to his feet and stepped back. He needed to get some distance. He could get lost in this woman; hell, he knew he might already be halfway gone. He was in trouble, or maybe she was. He might be worn out and jaded, but her kiss packed a wallop and if he spent too much time in her arms, she could make him forget all of the reasons he shouldn’t.

  “Listen, if you want to take
a shower, I’m sure I can find something for you to throw on for the time being.” He walked to the far wall and pulled open a closet, his back to her, and began rifling through hangers and digging through drawers like his life depended on it.

  ****

  His spicy, masculine, scent teased her nostrils even after he stepped away. She felt so drawn to him that it never entered her mind to resist the kiss even though he was essentially a stranger. When his lips closed over hers, Kat had been afraid she might drown in the sheer physical sensation of a kiss unaccompanied by incoming commentary in her head. Nothing says buzz-kill faster than knowing the person you’re kissing thinks you’re too fat, too thin, too smart, too dumb, or worse, is thinking of something or someone else altogether. Yeah, psychic dating was a challenge; she’d chosen to avoid it for the most part aside from a few ill-conceived college romances. But this, she thought touching her fingertips to her still tingling lips, this must be how other people felt, the bone melting rush, the tingle of electric sparks skipping along her skin, the sensation of waiting, wanting, needing. His shields were impenetrable; she hadn’t been able to read a thing. Desire without distraction. She finally had an inkling of what all the fuss was about. It was almost like being normal.

  She regarded his back and frowned. She didn’t have much experience with men, but she would have sworn he was enjoying that kiss as much as she was. Now it was as though he’d flipped a switch. Oh, well. Rejection wasn’t a novelty to her. What would a man like Kassian McAllister see in someone like her, anyway? He was a well-known, wealthy pseudo-celebrity and she was a solitary house mouse. She wasn’t his type at all. She still had no idea how she’d ended up in his bed, but his sudden about-face made it clear that however it had come about, he had no desire to share it with her. Which was fine with her; she functioned much better in solitude anyway. The silence stretched uncomfortably as he continued to slide hangers and slam drawers keeping his back to her.

  Still staring at his back, she couldn’t help but notice the tattoo. Though he was all the way across the room she could see that it was incredible work. The sword was so well done that it looked almost real, at least what she could see of it; the top of the ornate hilt was hidden by his hair. The daggers on his forearms were equally detailed. She had never been a huge ink fan, but McAllister certainly wore it well. Actually, to her surprise, on him she found it kind of sexy. She would never have suspected he sported all of that art under his custom tailored Italian suits. Then again, he’d been full of surprises from the moment he walked in the door last night.

  “Nice tats,” she observed with studied casualness. “The sword is incredible. Where did you have them done?”

  He visibly stiffened. “Italy,” he responded in an odd voice turning his head to stare hard at her before returning to his search. He pulled a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain gray tee from a drawer and tossed them behind him on the bed.

  “These should work temporarily. Can’t do much about shoes, I’m afraid.”

  She continued to watch as he pulled another tee from the drawer, this one black, and drew it over his head and down his torso where it clung like a second skin. He tucked it in, but he didn’t button his jeans.

  He hadn’t turned around and she began to feel incredibly vulnerable, lost in the middle of the endless bed staring at his rigid back. Her lame attempt at starting a conversation had gotten her nothing but a one word answer and an icy stare.

  “You know what?” she announced with sudden firmness, throwing back the sheet. “I think maybe I’ll wash up a bit, throw my own clothes back on, and get a shower when I get home. Would you mind running me back to Finley’s for my car? Or I can grab a cab…whatever.” He hadn’t offered any explanation as to how she’d gotten here, but she wasn’t about to stick around to find out. Maybe Elle could fill her in later on what had happened at the party after she’d passed out.

  She stepped past him determinedly and reached for her dress. Kassian flinched away. It never occurred to her that her soft curves undulating beneath the silk and lace were inadvertently alluring as she lifted her arms to the hanger, hiking up the hem of her slip and revealing a tantalizing glimpse of firm, rounded buttocks. He reached over her head, snagged the dress, and stuffed it in the closet, slamming the door forcefully. Kassian cleared his throat and she regarded him with and enquiring look.

  “Listen, Kat, your car is downstairs, or it will be soon, so you don’t need to worry about it. Take a shower and put those on…you’ll feel better. There are clean towels in the cabinet and an extra toothbrush under the sink. You aren’t going home.”

  “What do you mean I’m not going home?” Her gray eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Of course I’m going home. In case you wondered, I don’t exactly make a habit of waking up in strange men’s beds with no memory of how I got there. I don’t know what happened, or what you did, or why you think you are entitled to make decisions for me, but I. Am. Leaving.”

  She spun on her heel and pushed past him, grabbing at the clothes on the bed. She could ill afford to lose that dress, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight him for it either. His sweats would have to do. She couldn’t very well drive through the city in November in her underwear. She hoped he couldn’t see how her hands were shaking. Who in the hell did he think he was anyway? They were virtually strangers. Well, the rest of the world might jump to do the bidding of the great and powerful Kassian McAllister, but then she’d never really fit in with the rest of the world, had she? She felt Kassian step up behind her, and she gasped as he spun her to face him with a hand on either shoulder. She lifted her chin defiantly, eyes flashing.

  “Get your hands off of me.”

  Her voice was thick with anger, confusion, and unshed tears, but she met his gaze squarely. Her fingertips tingled and they both felt the jolt of electricity as she pushed at him ineffectually, sparks arcing between them. Kat winced, and shook out her wrists. He grasped her hand and held it in a firm grip, examining her palms and fingertips curiously.

  “Does that happen often?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of static electricity? Go rub a balloon on your head and see what happens…” She huffed and showed him her back.

  Kassian heaved a heavy sigh behind her. Kat knew a man in his position was used to giving orders and getting his own way; she doubted he was accustomed to using persuasion. She figured it probably wasn’t a good idea to point out that, so far, she didn’t really think he was very good at it.

  “Kat,” he began in what she was sure he thought was a soothing tone. “Last night…I had to break the empathic connection you were experiencing. Elle, I’m sure, made a brilliant cover, and I brought you here and put you to bed…alone. Does that make you feel better? Should I have let you suffer when I could prevent it?”

  She wasn’t any happier, but still she turned back to face him.

  “How? How did you break the connection?” She had never heard of anything like that and it didn’t exactly make her feel better to think he had that kind of power, especially considering she was in his bedroom wearing nothing but her lingerie. In fact, it was more than a little frightening wondering exactly what else he could do. She was honest enough with herself to admit that he hadn’t been influencing her reaction to his kiss. There was nothing wrong with her hormones, only her ability to function in close proximity to others.

  “It’s just something I can do…the way you can feel emotions. Now, be a good girl, go take a nice, hot shower, and then come on out and have some coffee and we’ll talk.”

  “Be a good girl?” she muttered. “Would you like to pat me on the head next?”

  “C’mon, Kat, I’m not your enemy. Oh, and you might want to call Elle. She probably has the National Guard out looking for you.”

  That got a ghost of a smile. He was right about Elle. Kat wouldn’t be surprised to see her face on the milk carton. She drew a shaky breath and straightened her spine. He wasn’t some depraved serial killer. She didn’t want to trust him
, had no reason to trust him, but on some level, inexplicably, she did. In theory. She could use a cup of coffee, anyway; the caffeine would help to dissipate the faint, lingering headache. And then, she was leaving.

  “Fine. I’ll listen, but after that, I’m out of here.”

  He shot her a smirk and headed for the door. She sensed his amusement. Did he think he’d won?

  Well, she was amused, too. She found it extraordinarily humorous that he thought “fine” meant she agreed with him when it really meant anything from “you’re an idiot” to “sleep with one eye open, sucker.” So, fine. She would take a shower and get dressed. At least with clothes on she would feel less vulnerable. He could talk until he was blue in the face while she drank her coffee. Then she would get in her car and go home.

  Chapter 3

  So this was how the other half lived! The glass-encased, black marble monstrosity that passed for Kassian McAllister’s shower was as big as her entire bathroom. Water pulsed and sprayed from every conceivable direction and she felt positively decadent using thirty minutes and a half bottle of herbal body wash to lather, rinse, and repeat. She didn’t even allow herself a twinge of guilt knowing he could well afford to replace it. Besides, she had been perfectly willing to shower at home; he was the one who insisted she stay. The gloriously hot water left her skin pink and steaming as she stepped out and wrapped herself in a thick, soft bath sheet that hung to the floor. It was strangely intimate standing naked except for a towel in a room still humid with the steam and scent of McAllister. She dried her hair and brushed it up into a high ponytail securing it with an elastic band she found in a wicker basket in the cabinet along with some leather slides similar to the one he’d worn last evening. She hoped he wouldn’t mind but decided it was too bad if he did. The clothes were enormous on her slight frame, the elastic waist of the sweats hanging low, catching on the full swell of her hips. She rolled the legs up into cuffs above her ankles, and twisted the hem of the tee, tying a knot at her waist that left a tantalizing strip of her flat midriff bare and emphasized her narrow waist. Regarding herself in the mirror, she decided she wouldn’t win any beauty contests, but at least she was clean and comfortable…and reasonably well covered.