Destiny United

The familiar squeeze in her chest warned her of what was coming. Her heart thundered in her ears. Oh shit! There goes my sanity. Her chest tightened more and more with each breath. Marcelo’s worried expression didn’t help.

“Aila,” he said. “You’ve got to calm down.”

She gave him a disgruntled expression. As if I don’t already know that! Her hands clamped over her mouth to steady her breathing. But it didn’t work. She was already halfway to a panic attack.

Marcelo dropped a warm hand onto her knee. “Don’t worry about any of that now. Let’s just focus on getting you to Sage and you can figure it out together.”
She nodded but still her breath came unevenly.

“Aila,” he said in a low, hypnotic voice. “Focus on me. Don’t think about your breathing. Don’t think about the fae. Don’t think about anything but my voice. Can you do that?”

He sounded calm. Reassuring. Confident. His deep, rich voice was pure seduction. Yeah, she could do that. She nodded.

“Do you know what a vampire’s favorite kind of dog is?”

Puzzled, she looked up at him.

“A bloodhound.” The boyish grin he gave her was almost as charming as the pitiful attempt at a joke.

She couldn’t stop a strangled laugh. “That was the worst joke ever,” she told him, lowering her shaky hands. But it worked. Her body was still suffering the after-shocks but her breath was almost steady. Who would have thought a vampire would make a good therapist?

Marcelo pulled into a secluded parking
spot at the city mall. “I have worse jokes than that,” he told her, “but I’ll save them for your next panic attack.”

She chuckled. God help her, she might actually be starting to like this guy.
Then he pulled out a piece of rope. Her heart slammed into her chest. Had she spoken too soon? Before she could ask what it was for, he had her wrists locked in one hand while he tied the rope around them.

“What are you doing?” she yelled, horrified.

“You’ve already run from me once and you won’t come inside. What am I to do, Aila?” It was a question but he’d already decided the answer. Tie her to the steering wheel!

“I didn’t run from you.” She yanked her arms to get free but he easily held her still.

“You left the car when I told you to stay. And to get drunk at a bar, no less. You’ve proven that I cannot trust you.”

“I won’t leave. I promise.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“Yes!”

“Aila,” he said in a low voice, “I’m sorry but you’ve left me no choice. This is why I told you it would be best for you to obey me.”

Panic welled in her chest and her breath quickened.

“Don’t start that again. It won’t change my mind.”

“I’ll come with you,” she spilled before she could stop herself. “Please. Just don’t leave me here defenseless.”

He looked into her eyes for one long unreadable moment. “Done,” he said then unwound the binds.

“What?”

“It’s about time you moved past this. I’m just glad you brought it up first.” He jumped out of the car then sped around to open her door.

Wait, wait, wait. She hadn’t really thought this through. But he had already pulled her from the car.

“Wait!” she pleaded. “I don’t know. I may have changed my mind.”

Marcelo tucked her small body into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She felt just a little bit safer being in his embrace. But still, she dragged her feet as he tugged her along through the parking lot.
“You and me, querida. We’re going to get through this together.”
For a moment, she actually believed him.
“Now, what is it you’re afraid of?”

“Umm…” They stepped through the door and entered a department store. Her gaze darted back and forth looking for exits, watching people frantically, searching for invisible threats.

“Aila.” Marcelo’s voice pulling her back to reality. “What are you afraid of?”

“Umm…”

“You said that already.”

“People. Looking at me.”

“No worries there. They’re all looking at me.” A dazzling grin reached his face as he gazed down at her. “It’s my hot body and devilish good looks.”

She managed a strangled snort. “You got the devil part right.”

He nodded slowly. “Ah, so that’s the trick.”

“What?”

“If I keep you insulting me, you forget your fears.”

“I haven’t forgotten. I’m shaking like a leaf, if you haven’t noticed.”She stuck out one trembling hand.

Without slowing his steps he grabbed her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. “Then tell me, cosita, what else are you afraid of?” He kept hold of her hand, confidently, securely, and she was suddenly more aware of that one kissed spot than anything else around her.

“Umm…I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
Marcelo pushed her along, his strong arm holding her close but not letting her drag her feet anymore. They moved quickly through the aisles, getting farther and farther away from the exit. Her breathing started to shallow.

“Aila,” he said, his voice taking on an alluring quality. “Focus on my voice. Look at the floor if you have to. One foot in front of the other.”

Yes, okay, I can do that. The floor. It had a square pattern. She focused on stepping over the cracks as they walked. “I’m scared someone’s going to ask me a question and I won’t know the answer. And I’m scared I’m going to knock over a display or bump into something delicate and break it. Then everyone will look at me and laugh.” She watched the lines move under her feet. “I’m scared I’m going to get lost. Or there will be an emergency and I won’t know what to do. Like the fire alarm or…or…a terrorist attack.”

Marcelo stopped abruptly then quieted her rambling with a finger under her chin. He pulled her head up to meet his gaze. “We all have fears, Aila. But the question is, how long are you going to let them run your life?”

She raised her brows as his words sunk in. “You have fears?”

He looked hesitant, but answered, “Anyone who has something to lose has something to fear.”

“What do you –”

“Another time, querida.” With a firm shove she was in an aisle surrounded by women’s clothing. “Now, we shop.” He grinned, perfect white teeth glinting against his russet skin. It made her smile, though her heart still pounded in fear.

Aila perused the racks, fingering the garments, a gratified smile on her face. She kept one hand locked around Marcelo’s large wrist. He’d glanced down at it twice and she’d thought he meant to pull away, until she saw his lips curl into a small smile. She knew it was silly, but for some reason, holding onto him made her feel better. Like she was keeping him from running off without her.

“I haven’t been shopping in so long,” she said.

Marcelo furrowed his brows and turned to study her. “How do you get clothes then?”

“Boyfriend. Whoever it is at the time. Or online.”

His voice was sharp. “Exactly how many boyfriends have you had?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been with Jimmy for a while though. He has good taste in clothing. And he tolerates my limited diet.” Her hand brushed up against a silky dress. She smiled inside. She could get used to this shopping business.

At once Marcelo’s body language changed. Relaxed and content before, now his muscles were tense, his large body invading her space. She had to strain her neck to look up at him.
With an accusing expression, he said, “Let me get this straight. You use men to buy you things you need because of your…”

“Disability? Yes. But it’s not as if they know it.”

“What would happen if you didn’t have a boyfriend? No one to take care of you?”

She blinked. Why did he look so angry? And why was it any of his business? “I don’t know,” she admitted, but with pride still in her voice. “It’s never happened.”

“So when you break up with one…”

“I find someone to take his place.”

“And do you sleep with them to keep them happy?”

She gasped. “I’m not a prostitute!”

His eyes turned fierce with an emotion she couldn’t decipher then he turned around and started pulling clothing off the racks.

“I don’t know why you’re judging me,” she said following closely on his heels. “It’s none of your business anyway.”

He didn’t even turn to face her as he combed through the racks. “It’s immoral,” he said half-heartedly. “Using men to meet your needs.”

“Immoral?” she yelled, surprising herself with her boldness. “This from a vampire from the Underworld!”

He spun around so fast she flinched then took a step back. Instead of being angry, like she’d thought, he smirked and said, “My little hot-headed fae is back.” Then he stroked her cheek with a knuckle. She scowled but didn’t pull away. “I’m not judging you, Aila. Gods know I’m not the best example of a moral life. I just think you can do better than living like a leech off men.”

“Funny choice of words for someone like you,” she muttered, though she felt the anger recede with his words.

He thrust an arm full of clothing at her then spun her around and pushed her to the back of the store. They entered a separate room with a row of stalls.

“What am I supposed to do here?” she asked.

“Try them on.”

She looked at the stalls then back to Marcelo. “By myself?”

He grinned wickedly. “Unless you want me to help you.”

She frowned. “Can’t we just buy them?”

“No. You’re going to try each and every one of them on, then walk out here and show me. It’s the only thing that makes shopping with a woman worthwhile. And since I’m paying for the clothes, I’m taking my due.”

Ballsy! Before she could stutter through a response he had pushed her through one of the doors and shut it behind her. She scanned the stall then placed the clothes on the hook. At least there would be no one watching her.
Unless….she spotted what looked like a video camera on the ceiling. Oh God!

“Aila,” Marcelo warned from outside.

“Don’t make me come in there. Get going.”

She shuddered at his tone. What would it be like if he broke through the door mid-dressing? Would he ogle her body? Would she like it? The rush of heat flooding her core answered that question. Get a grip on your libido, she scolded herself, shaking away her lustful thoughts. You have a boyfriend!

After she tried on the first outfit – a pair of plain khaki hiking shorts and pink tank top with a built-in bra, she looked in the mirror, turning this way and that. She had to admit it was gratifying to see herself in the clothing before making a purchase.
Marcelo’s voice snapped her away from the moment. “Come, Aila. Let me see.”
She rolled her eyes then stepped out of the dressing room, knowing full well he would just come in if she didn’t.
His gaze raked over her body, intensifying with each second. Instead of feeling self-conscious, she was actually aroused by this bold show of sensuality. Her cheeks flushed and her throat suddenly felt dry. He didn’t say anything, just nodded in what she guessed was approval.

She spun around, embarrassed by the warmth between her legs. Right before she’d gone back into the dressing room, Marcelo’s eyes had locked onto hers, sparkling with a hint of wicked desire. It was as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. And what she was thinking was so not suitable for a public dressing room. She almost collapsed on the floor when she shut the door behind her. But she knew, in only a moment, Marcelo would be demanding another show.
Everything she had tried on was serviceable clothing for hiking – nothing particularly appealing about them. Marcelo had watched her with a heated gaze that made her knees weaker and weaker each time she went back into the dressing room. But he hadn’t made a sound.

On the fourth outfit – a red halter top dress she hadn’t remembered picking out – he finally rose from the chair where he’d been sitting.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

She spun slowly, hiding a smile, wondering what he was thinking.
He hissed in a breath. “Your ass looks magnificent.
Her stomach fluttered.
“One size smaller, I think. I’ll be right back.”
Then he spun on his heel and left her. Alone. He left her.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god,” she chanted feeling the familiar tightening in her chest. She stood there, frozen, outside the fitting room stall.

“Hey, is that Erin?” she heard someone whisper from the opening of the fitting room.

Looking in that direction she was mortified. Two girls from one of her classes at the community college stared at her. They were far enough away that a normal human wouldn’t hear their whispers, but with her fae senses she could hear them as if they were standing next to her.

“She’s the weirdo that always freaks out when people talk to her.”

“Oh, yeah,” the other girl whispered.
“She had a panic attack in trigonometry once. They had to call an ambulance. I think she takes online classes now.”

“Hey,” the first one said. “Who’s that hot and dangerous looking guy over there?”

“Oooh…yummy.”

With the attention off of her, Aila swung around and walked back into the fitting room stall where she slumped into a pile on the bench. At least five minutes went by and Aila had frozen in fear. She was trapped. Marcelo had left her and she had no idea if he would be coming back. The exits were so far away and she didn’t know how to reach them. Tears threatened to spill onto her heated cheeks. She wanted to curl up and die.

Then she heard the stall door handle wiggle. It was locked but in only a few seconds it burst open. In stormed Marcelo, his face a mixture of concern and anger. He walked straight to her and leaned over, placing his hands on the bench on either side of her body. His face was so close to hers she could see her reflection in the black of his eyes.

He spoke softly but with clear authority. “I know why you’re upset. But it’s time to stop sulking in self-pity and start acting like the strong fae warrior that’s in your blood.”

“But –”

“You listen to me, Aila. You are not a frightened little girl anymore. You are stronger, and smarter, and ten times more beautiful than the girls you’re afraid of. And you are a goddamn supernatural! We don’t cower and hide.”

“I can’t help it,” she admitted with a trembling voice. “I’m scared.”

“Good. It means you’re not stupid and reckless like your sister. There are things in this world to be afraid of, Aila. Sometimes it’s only fear that keeps us alive. Fear tells us to run when we’re outmatched. But fear is toxic. It can poison. It can maim. It can disable. So if you’re going to be afraid, querida, make it something worth being afraid of.”

He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and hoisted her to her feet. “Now, you are going to walk out there with your head held high and purchase these clothes.” He thrust several hangers of clothing into her hands. “Understand?”

“By myself?” she asked, barely a whisper.

His voice softened. The fierceness in his brown eyes melted to warmth. “All you need to worry about is getting from here to the cashier’s desk. One foot in front of the other. Leave the rest to me.”

She was too stunned to speak but he seemed to be waiting for an answer. She nodded.

He ripped the tags off one of the dressed and held it out to her. “Put this on.” It was the red halter top dress one size smaller. He turned around and started to leave then stopped abruptly. “And Aila.”
She looked up at him.
“Don’t you ever underestimate yourself in my presence again.”

He was out the door in one big step and she was alone. Her jaw dropped. Never had anyone commanded her not to be afraid. They’d felt sorry for her. They’d made excuses for her. But no one had ever declared her strong, beautiful, and smart, and then forced her to prove it. Her body shivered from head to toe.

One foot in front of the other, she repeated to herself walking toward the cashier. She obliged him and wore the red dress, though she would have preferred heels to her cowboy boots. She could hear the girls whispering behind her about a hot guy with long dark hair and jeans that hugged his photo-worthy ass. Oh! They’re talking about Marcelo. A twinge of jealousy had her hissing in a breath. What is wrong with me?

Half-way to the cashier’s desk, one of the girls squealed, “Here he comes!”

Aila wanted to follow their line of sight, but she was afraid she’d panic and pass out. In only seconds she heard his voice boom from her right. “There you are!”

Huh? Marcelo wrapped an arm around her waist lifting her onto tiptoes, her chest mashed up against his. The girls’ gasps echoed in her ears. He cupped her face with one hand then pressed his lips to hers.

Oh my God! He’s kissing me!
His lips were soft but the kiss was not. It was demanding, passionate, addictive.

His mouth covered hers, coercing her to open for his entrance. “Kiss me back, Aila,” he muttered against her lips.
Oh, right. This is for an audience.
She opened her mouth and allowed him in. He tasted like exotic spices and warm coffee. His kiss was just as domineering as the rest of him, but gentle at the same time. Like he wanted to romance her but couldn’t stop his own primitive reaction. It turned her into a spineless pile of mush. Arms tightened around her waist. But if she got any closer to him, he’d be inside her. Or maybe that was exactly where she wanted him. Just as abruptly as the kiss began, it stopped.
Too stunned to move she just stood, staring at his chest, trying to pull her spine back together.

His mouth hovered over hers, the heat of his breath swirling around her. “Smile, Aila,” he said.

She managed a sort of silly half-smile. She couldn’t even hear the girl’s gratifying responses because her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

“Good girl,” he said, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, which she could feel because she was still pressed up against him – though now she wasn’t sure if he held her there or she did. “Now walk to the cashier.”

He maneuvered her so they were side by side and walked her through the aisle. She didn’t need to focus on the floor to calm a rising panic attack. No, with her head in the clouds she couldn’t even feel the floor beneath her feet. Suddenly a large palm slapped against her backside, making her jump six inches in the air. She felt him chuckle again as he left his hand on one cheek with a very clear message. Mine.

Chapter 7

Marcelo had never felt so proprietary about anything before. As far as vampires went, they tended to be very possessive – of weapons, of land, of women. But Marcelo never felt like there was anything that important not to share. Until now.

Instinct wasn’t just whispering in his ear, it was screaming through his bones. Mine, was the message. Take what’s mine and don’t share!

For the second time Aila managed to wipe all thoughts of Natalia from his mind. Could Aila be his true mate? The one meant for him for all eternity? The other half of his heart?

He’d known he was attracted to Aila before, but the kiss was enough to make him explode. Damn this girl’s got me all twisted up! Her lips tasted like pure lust. The scent of her lingered on his lips, his clothes, his body. He wanted to roll in it, wanted to touch every inch of her delicious skin. He’d even settle for another kiss. She’d been so responsive – opening her mouth when he demanded. Her body had melted into his embrace like it was made to be there. She hadn’t wanted to pull away from the kiss, and even clutched his shirt in her little fists. If they hadn’t been in public he would’ve slipped a hand up her dress to see if she was as wet as he’d thought.

Now he walked with a hand on his woman’s ass, possessive and proud as he paid for her clothing – providing for his mate. He gave his head a shake. His mate? When had he officially declared that?

Marcelo had spent so long searching for Natalia he’d begun to think the hunt would never end. His sole purpose in his second life had been finding her. For eight hundred years he’d been telling himself that as soon as she was in his arms his world would be right again. Could he give it all up now? He had to admit, the idea of leaving it behind sent waves of relief through his body. Like the heavy, murky air polluting his lungs had cleared. His refreshment? The small, sunny fae before him.

If the rumors were true, Natalia had changed. She wasn’t the same woman as when they were human. Hell, he wasn’t the same man.

Natalia isn’t yours. The thought came uncontrollably, and with it years of sorrow and frustration. No, Natalia wasn’t his.

But Aila was.

Yes, it was already decided. Whether Aila knew it or not, she was not going back to that human boyfriend. She would not be having any other male. She was his. And his alone.

Marcelo guided Aila out of the department store, a hand securely placed on the small of her back. When they stepped into the busy mall hallway, she froze. “I…I don’t think I can handle anymore. Seriously. I’m done.”

“Nonsense,” he said, grasping her hand, intertwining their fingers. “We’re just getting to the good stuff.”

Her gaze was glued to their hands, a frown set on her lips, but she didn’t pull away. “Umm. The good stuff?”

“Let’s see, we got you shorts and t-shirts. And now I believe you need under garments.”

“What?” Her little forehead scrunched before realization struck. “Oh. That.” Pink blossomed across her cheeks then her eyes widened. “You’re not going to make me try those on too!”

He couldn’t hold back a short burst of laughter. “Not unless you insist.”
Relief was visible on her face.
“Do you? Insist?”

“No!” she snapped, though the curiosity in her eyes betrayed her.

Aila blushed through the entire lingerie store while Marcelo took his time selecting the items. It was a strange sort of torture to endure. Visions of Aila dressed in the various skimpy underclothes swamped him until his shaft was so hard it hurt. He yearned to throw her over his shoulder and take her in the dressing room while she panted and moaned in his ear – her sweaty body marking up the mirror. He shook the image from his mind. This time no one should smack him. If Aila was his, then it was his right – no, his job – to satisfy her. More than just that. To please her, protect her, provide for her, and above all – possess her, as she possessed him.

After buying her the most expensive yet least practical underclothes he could find, his gaze roamed leisurely up and down her body. He never thought a woman could blush for so long. Nor did he ever think it would be so sexy. His gaze dropped to the pulse on her neck. How he’d love to taste her.

I’ll bet she tastes as sweet as she smells. Honey and sunshine.

His fangs ached for release. Patience, Marcelo. He had an eternity to enjoy her in every possible way. And she would learn to sate him, in bed and under his fangs. But now was not the time. He knew, timid as she was, she’d need time to adjust to the idea of being tied to him forever. Her brain still worked as a human’s did – uncomprehending of mating bonds. Even Marcelo was unsure about what to expect.

“Why are you staring at my neck?” she asked, interrupting his scattered thoughts. Then her eyes widened. “Oh no! You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?”

He stepped closer. She stepped back. “What I’m thinking, querida, is that those cowboy boots just won’t do.”

She looked down and clicked her heels together. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Can you hike in them? Climb in them?”

“Well, no. But they’re adorable!” She grinned, looking down at them so fondly that before he could stop himself, he agreed to carry them in his backpack so she could keep them. He was rewarded with a glowing smile.

Back in the car, after she’d eaten an adequate meal, she pinned him with a pensive expression. “Marcelo, it was very kind of you to buy me these things. I promise to pay you back just as soon as I can.”

Pay him back? For money that was already hers? Another glance at her face revealed she would be insistent. Maybe he could make this work to his advantage. Holding back a twisted smirk he said, “I know how you could repay me now.”

She eyed him warily.

“A kiss,” he answered her unspoken question. “Just one.”

If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. “You already took one of your own accord, so I guess that means we’re even.”

He smiled. Smart girl. “That kiss was for the clothing. I also bought you a pair of hiking boots. And if I remember correctly, they were quite expensive.”

She gave him a wry half-smile that almost stopped his heart. She was thinking about kissing him, which made him think about it. The car swerved when he stared at her bottom lip too long wondering what it would feel like between his teeth. Without losing that sultry smile she said, “How about I just pay you in cash after my next paycheck?”

“Querida,” he mimicked her smirk, “there isn’t going to be a next paycheck. Life as you knew it is over.”

He regretted it as soon as he’d said it. Her smile faded and grief filled her eyes. But it was the truth and she had to face it sooner or later.

She took a deep breath and stared down at her hands. “Right. I keep forgetting.” After a long moment of silence she asked, in a small voice, the question he’d been dreading since he first brought it up in the mall. “Marcelo, what are your fears?”

***

Marcelo stared silently at the road long enough to convince Aila he wouldn’t answer her intimate question. Then, without making eye contact, he said,
“For a long time I feared what I was becoming.”

She waited for him to explain. He didn’t.
“What do you mean?” she finally prompted.

“I have existed for a very long time, Aila. I’ve fought many wars. I’ve wandered to every end of the earth. Mindless feeding. Mindless fighting. I grew darker, more dangerous with each passing decade. How long can one continue to live like that? In darkness – no peace, no joy, no purpose but bloodshed. No redemption for my soul.”

Maybe immortality was overrated.

“I was afraid I’d never find my piece of happiness.”

“So now you’ve found it and you’re not afraid anymore?”

He shook his head. “Now I’m even more afraid.” At her quizzical glare he turned and pinned her with a look she could only describe as piercing authenticity. “Because now that I’ve found it, I’m terrified to lose it.”

She shuddered. God help anyone who tried to take it from him.

When they reached the hotel room, Marcelo handed Aila one of the backpacks they’d purchased. “Everything you want to bring with you has to fit in this bag,” he told her.

She nodded.

His head tilted and he studied her with narrowed eyes. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes. Everything must fit in the bag. I get it.”

He didn’t change his expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re a woman.”

“So glad you noticed.”

“Aren’t you going to insist on bringing a lot of stuff?”

She rolled her eyes. “I grew up in foster care. I can pack everything I need in a grocery bag in under three minutes.”

He nodded but his expression was grim. “I have to go out.”

“Where ?”

“I need to eat.”

She nodded then froze when realization struck. Oh! She grimaced at a vision of him feeding from a human. Her first response was disgust, but it quickly morphed into curiosity. She pictured his fangs lengthening under his lips, his eyes darkening as he sought his target, his teeth piercing through the flesh. Does he sedate them? Do they scream? Even more curious…do they like it?
She exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding then fanned herself with her hand. “Is it hot in here?”

At once his dark look faded to amusement. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“No!” Liar.

“Liar.”

Damn him!

He sauntered towards her, looking every bit the predator he was. Eyes focused, shoulders back, muscles tense and twitching. “Now, what do I do with you?”

She slapped on her most innocent expression and batted her eyes. “I won’t leave the room. I promise.” When he simply arched a brow, she added, “Didn’t I prove you can trust me?”

“No.” He shifted his weight to his other foot and sighed. “But I don’t really have a choice.” His twinkling eyes suddenly shifted to a starless black. He leaned forward, trapping her against the wall. “Do you know how powerful a vampire’s senses are? I can hear your heartbeat from the road. I can smell your delicious body from a mile away. If you run, you will not escape me. And if I lose my meal to chase you…” he didn’t need to finish the sentence, but he did, “you will be its substitution. So you are not going to step one foot outside that door, correct?”

She nodded.

He flashed a savage smile then stepped even closer, his scent washing over her like a wave. His gaze locked with hers, pinning her with an intensity that burned her very essence. Sparks shot down her spine. Her thighs clenched when heat surged to her core. How could a man affect her so strongly with just one look?

“Are you sure about that kiss?” he asked in a buttery voice. The tension was so thick she could scarcely breathe.
Though it took a lot of effort, she managed a small nod. When he turned away, she inhaled a deep breath, unpeeled her limp body from the wall, and muttered, “You could have just asked me to stay in the room.”

“Somehow I don’t think it would have had the same effect,” he answered over his shoulder as he opened the door. He paused in the doorway, his smoldering gaze still turning her insides to mush.

She wanted either to push him out the door and slam it shut, or yank him back in and tackle him on the bed. She settled on staring dumbly instead. That’s me, she sighed to herself, always the go-getter.

“Lock the door behind me,” he said. “And don’t open it for anyone, understand?”

“Why do you always ask me if I understand after you give me orders? You do realize I’m not five years old, don’t you?”

“Since you don’t follow my orders anyway, does it matter?”

“No. So maybe you should stop barking them.”

“Barking? Is that what I’m doing?” A smile played at the edge of his lips.

Not able to withstand his presence any longer she tried to shove him out the door. It was like trying to move a brick wall. “Yes. Barking. Just like a little poodle. Now go!”

His chuckles lingered as his body glided down the hallway like a jungle cat on a leisurely stroll. Pushing the hair from her face she exhaled a deep breath then shut and locked the door. She picked up the bag to start packing when a firm knock made her jump. Without thinking, she opened the door.

Marcelo stood in the hallway, his brows raised in disapproval. “I told you not to open the door.”

“I knew it was you, moron.” Not exactly true but he didn’t need to know that.

“Liar.”

“Suck it!” She tried to slam the door but he caught it with his hand.

In less than a second he had her back to the wall, his hands up against it on either side of her head. “Is that an invitation?” he purred.

Yes. No! Maybe? Having a hard time finding her voice, she cleared her throat. “No,” she answered softly.

He stared down at her for too long. Lightening danced in his eyes. Her gaze dropped to his lips. At the memory of his spicy richness her tongue darted out wetting her own lips. She stopped when he leaned in so close his nose brushed a piece of her hair. Her eyes fluttered closed, her knees wobbled. He inhaled deeply and moaned.

Next to her ear his breath whispered against her. “Lock the door.”

Her eyes flew open and he was gone. Finally she collapsed onto the floor. What the hell was that? And even more important, why the hell did she like it?