Velvet Haven (9 page)

There had never been anything but bad blood between Bran and his mortal relations, but this little prick was the one who had gotten under his skin the most. Probably because Bran saw so much of himself in the immovable, arrogant man’s face.

“Oh, yeah,” Rhys drawled, stepping closer so that they were nearly nose to nose. “I have a message for you from Keir.”

Bran glanced at the DJ, who was still playing music. “What does he want?”

“Stay the fuck away from the one named Rowan.”

“And which one is she?”

“The blonde.”

Bran was instantly relieved. “Tell your
friend
that the one named Rowan holds no interest for me. It is the other I want.”

Rhys slowly backed away. “I’ll be watching you, Raven. One wrong move and you’ll be back in Annwyn without your energy fix. You got that?”

Bran watched the mortal leave, hating him, loathing his own miserable circumstances. He despised being weak, hated being without the powers of Annwyn.

With a snarl, he headed for the women.

“
Put on your happy face
,” Sayer ordered him, using telepathy so the women wouldn’t hear them. “
You’re going to scare them off. And try to talk like you belong in the twenty-first century, for God’s sake. Fit in, for once.”

Bran lifted his lips in a smile, hoping it was the sort that would make the woman’s panties wet. He never had been very good at foreplay. He was more a take- what-he-wanted guy, but he knew that just taking this woman wasn’t going to get him what he needed: his cock buried deep inside her, all night long.

The guy looked as if he had a case of severe gastrointestinal upset. Never had Mairi seen a more pitiful excuse for a smile than this one.

“Hey,” he said, extending his hand to her. Obviously he wasn’t one of those smooth talker types. Taking his hand in hers, she smiled.

“This is my friend, Bran,” the golden god murmured. “And I’m Sayer.”

“Mairi,” she replied, pulling her hand free. “And you already know Rowan.”

Sayer’s eyes seemed to glow as he looked over her friend. “Not nearly enough, I think.”

Mairi heard her friend’s breath catch. She was going to have to watch this Sayer character. He was just the sort of smooth operator that got women to do whatever he wished. And she’d seen many of those women rolled into the ER raped and bloodied after a night out dancing and drinking.

Rowan was easy pickings. She was still reeling from the tumor diagnosis and the fiasco with Aaron. Rowan had never had it easy with guys, and Mairi knew without a doubt that Sayer could make her friend forget all about being cautious, even though the frightening events with Aaron were never far from Rowan’s—and Mairi’s—thoughts. Now she, Mairi thought with pride, wasn’t so easily taken in by a handsome face and buff bod. Unlike Rowan, her inability to trust made it easy for her to avoid becoming a victim.

Looking around the club, Mairi found herself feeling very uncomfortable and conspicuous. She didn’t know what to say, and the music was so damn loud they wouldn’t hear her if she did talk. And the big guy with the short black hair and the tight T-shirt with the fuchsia VELVET HAVEN logo on his chest kept watching them.

Mairi hadn’t missed the altercation between the guy and Bran, and she found herself wondering if Bran wasn’t a regular shit disturber at the club. If so, she wanted no part of his company. The last thing she wanted in a place like this was trouble.

“How about a drink?” Sayer asked. Laying his hand on the lower part of Rowan’s back, he ushered her along, toward the bar and another room where there were chandeliers and velvet couches.

She followed behind, but all along Mairi was conscious of the man who walked beside her. He was at least six feet six with shoulders the width of a house and legs like oak trunks. He was dressed in black leather pants, black Doc Martens, and a long black coat that was cool in a
Matrix
sort of way. His hair was black as well, long, silky. She couldn’t see what color his eyes were, only that his lashes were black and thick.

He walked with a pantherlike grace, his stride long and lazy, belying the power she sensed in him. He was scary in a way, yet sexy, too. She’d never been attracted to the long- hair type before, but suddenly she had visions of running her hands through that mane.

The guys she’d dated had always been safe, even boring. But this guy—he had danger tattooed all over him. A total bad boy that Mairi couldn’t deny turned her on.

She sensed he possessed the same sexual prowess her dream lover did. And how stupid was that? Her dream babe wasn’t real. And this guy . . . well, what the heck would a guy like him be looking at her for? And why did she care, because she was never going to see him again, and she didn’t do one-night stands with complete strangers.

Jumping, she squeaked in surprise as she felt a big, warm hand clamp around her elbow. The minute she felt his touch a warm hum infused her blood. Glancing up at him, she saw that he was watching the crowd as though he were looking for someone. Suddenly his grip hardened.

“Ow,” she cried, pulling back. He looked down at her and Mairi got lost in his eyes. They were the strangest eyes she’d ever seen. One was gold and the other pewter, and both were thinly rimmed with a violet edge. Contacts. Had to be.

“I did not mean to hurt you,” he said, his fingers soothing the sting on her flesh. “My apologies.”

He had a faint Scottish accent. His voice was deep and smooth, and she liked the way it seemed to wash over her. He was watching her, expecting her to say something. She could only nod, bereft of speech as she gazed into his eyes.
Completely mute
. A rare condition for her.

“Shall we?”

He waved her ahead, and Mairi was struck by the gentlemanly veneer beneath the leather and long hair. She would never have pegged him as having manners, but he did. Good ones, in fact.

They followed Sayer and Rowan to the back of the room, where it was darker and fewer people congregated. Most people were at the bar; a few were at booths sipping champagne and martinis. Sayer sat them at a high-backed booth upholstered in fuchsia velvet.

“What are you ladies drinking tonight?”

“Water,” they said together.

“C’mon. Just one.” He winked and smiled, his magnetic personality drawing them in. “Have one on me. I’ll bet you’ve never had a caramel apple martini, have you?”

Rowan’s eyes went wide. “No, but you’re speaking to my heart.”

“I knew I would,” he murmured as he gazed at Rowan. Mairi saw his eyes darken and flicker; then something weird happened to his pupil—it flipped and became long, slitlike. But when he turned his attention to her, the pupil was normal. “What about you?”

“I’ll have a beer. With the cap left on, please.” There was no way in hell she was taking any chances that she’d be slipped some drug. She glanced at Rowan, shooting her a look that told her to do the same.

“On second thought, I’ll have a beer, too. Cap on.”

Sayer exchanged a glance with his friend, then strolled over to the bartender. He ordered, then leaned up against the bar, watching them.

“So, Mairi,” Bran murmured, his voice deep and gravelly. “This is your first time here.”

It was not a question, but a statement. “How do you know?”

He shrugged, then stretched back, resting his arm on the back of the booth. “If I had seen you here before, I definitely would have noted that.”

Smooth.
Her stomach did a little flop, but she ignored it. “You a regular, then?”

His brows arched as he scanned the group of people who were headed to the empty booth beside them. “I come here when I feel . . . a certain call.”

Uh-huh
. “You mean a booty call?”

His gaze slid to hers and she fought the urge to squirm beneath his intense stare. “I’m not familiar with that phrase, but the way your voice changed when you said it makes me believe it is something derogatory to your sex.”

“You have a lovely voice, you know. Very soft and soothing.”

“Are you changing the subject?” she asked.

“No, we’re still talking about you.”

She laughed and suddenly felt a ton of pressure evaporate. He smiled and brushed a few strands of her hair away from her eyelashes. “You have a lovely smile, too.”

Mairi looked away. This guy was definitely smooth. Top notch in the seduction department. She was definitely feeling tempted just by having him sit next to her, not to mention the way his attention was completely focused on her.

“What do you do for a living, Mairi?”

“I’m a nurse at St. Michael’s.”

“You’re a healer.”

She glanced up at him and was once again struck mute by his eyes. And that voice. It was so deep and velvety. Like a fine cognac, it was warm and smooth. “Uh—uh,” she stuttered. Good lord, one look into his eyes and then down to those big hard shoulders and she had completely lost the thread of the conversation.

Brushing her long hair back from her cheek, he slid his fingertips down over her shoulders and along her arm. He tracked the progression of his hand as it got lost in her thick hair. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think of anything other than having that big hand caressing her back in slow, sweeping motions.

“I can feel it in you, you know, the power to heal.”

Her traitorous libido went into overdrive. God, he had the sexiest voice she’d ever heard. When he ran his fingertips along her arm, raising goose bumps, Mairi gathered her scattered thoughts. “I’m just a nurse,” she muttered, inching away from him.

It was not good to be this affected by him. He was a stranger, she reminded herself. He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds and more than a foot of muscle and bulk. She would not be able to fight a man like this off. Better to steer clear of any possible entanglements.

He moved in, following her when she tried to create space between them. “I bet you care for the terminally ill,” he murmured next to her ear.

“No, Emergency Room.”

His head cocked to the side as his gaze raked over her. “Are you sure you don’t help those who are in a hopeless situation?”

She shuddered. What could he know about her? Did abused women and girls count as hopeless situations? There were days when she believed so.

“I just thought . . .” He trailed off and glanced away, watching the crowd.

“You thought what?”

He swung his attention back to her, making her whole body liquefy. “Because of your aura I thought that you were the type to help people through dark times.”

“My aura?” she choked. Whoa!
Weird
.

His gaze turned molten and his face tightened up as if he heard her thoughts and was now offended by them.

“Never mind, Mairi,” Rowan said, leaning across the table. “You’ll never get her to believe in auras or the supernatural. She’s a logical, hard-science girl.”

“But you believe?”

Rowan shrugged and smiled mischievously. “Maybe.”

“Back at last,” Sayer said as he placed a couple of beers in front of Rowan and Mairi. He passed a tall glass of something red to Bran.

“What are you drinking?” Mairi asked, eyeing the glass.

“Something called a Trance. Do you want to taste it?”

“No, thanks.”

He took a long drink and held it out to her. “Nothing in it. Honest.”

Yeah, right. He was so huge, a little bit of GHB or ketamine wouldn’t affect him, but her . . . she’d likely fall flat on her back and then . . . She found herself looking at his mouth, and then at his hands. And then . . . she imagined what he’d do with that mouth and those strong fingers.

“Hello, Rowan.”

They both glanced up to see the DJ, or Tarot Guy as he was known between them, pull up a chair. He turned it around and straddled it. Mairi couldn’t help but admire his thighs in his jeans. And his eyes . . . they looked silver, but were outlined in violet, just like Bran’s. Man, did everyone here wear contacts?

“Hi,” Rowan murmured with a shy smile before taking a dainty sip of her beer.

“I’m Keir, my apologies for not introducing myself before.” He extended his hand, which was covered in unusual tattoos. Not necessarily run-of-the-mill tribal tats, but something similar. The pattern snaked its way up the length of his arm, over his huge muscles, and disappeared beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt.

Rowan, Mairi noticed, did a full-body blush when Keir gripped her hand, then pulled back only to fiddle with the cap of her beer bottle. Mairi saw him frown, then glare at his friend.

“So, Sayer treating you right? Because if he’s not, I’ll kill him.”

Although the tone was civil, Mairi sensed some menace behind it. Even Bran sensed it, because she felt that great big body of his stiffen alongside hers, and she wondered whether the threat really wasn’t an idle one.