Page 13 of Lord of Passion

I scream into the palm, biting it, digging my teeth in as my head slams back, hoping to break this asshole's nose. Unfortunately, he's quick and he moves his head in time so I arch my back, trying to kick his shins until he slams me up against the wall, face-first and pressing me hard from behind.

"Fucking calm down! It's me." That deep voice. It's right next to my ear, rasping. "It's me, Nikandr." I freeze in horror, digging my teeth in one more time until he curses briefly and pulls his hand away, shaking it. I'm pleased to see that there is a distinct bite mark, blood welling up from the broken skin. "I knew you'd be a biter," he says, more to himself than me.

"What thefuckare you doing here?" I hiss, shoving him with my shoulders, trying to get loose. He steps back, just enough to let me turn around before putting his hands on either side of my face against the brick.

"Who's chasing you?" For once, Nikandr is not in a suit. He's wearing a tight black T-shirt and pants that look like they're part of a tactical suit, with lots of pockets for knives and bombs and whatever shit I guess tactical pants are supposed to carry. Black boots. He's also got a gun holster tucked in the small of his back and another one around his thigh.

Without thinking, I lean forward and sniff him. Smoke, and something strange, and chemical. "Who's chasing you?" he asks again, shaking me slightly with his hand on my shoulder. I slap it off.

"Nobody's chasing me, you asshole!" I snarl. "What the hell areyoudoing out here lurking around and grabbing innocent women in the middle of the night?"

If anything, he looks angrier, his face darkens like a cloud over the moon. "I could ask you the same question," he snaps. "The way you were tearing across that rooftop, I thought someone was chasing you, that you'd been abducted or someone attacked you." He looks down at my sports bra under my unzipped sweatshirt, and my leggings. His brows draw together. "What is this?"

Then, I hear it. It's an almost percussive sense, like the ground has shifted beneath our feet. That's the precursor. I've heard this before and the next thing is…

An explosion, maybe half a mile away, smoke curling, rolling up into the air and flame shooting past the rooftops. I stare at the inferno, mouth open like a simpleton. I can already hear the faint sound of fire engines and car alarms going wild.

My gaze swings to his and my eyes narrow. "What the fuck areyoudoing out tonight,Sovietnik?"I add a little snap to the 'k' at the end of his title. "All dressed up in your spy gear and armored up to the gills? Just out for a midnight stroll?" I step back, looking him over. "No meetings tonight, so it's murders instead?"

He's looking at the inferno too. Assessingly, like he's categorizing it, is the height of the flames correct for the amount of damage it should cause. I glance back at it and then hit him again.

"You had something to do with that didn't you?" I say in a furious whisper. "Jesus Christ, you've been off on a little arson spree and you're mauling me, pretending to be my knight inArmani armor? Just- stop- getoffme!" I slap at his shoulder again, successfully pushing him away this time. Well, he lets me.

"Be careful about throwing accusations around," he says mildly, but there's a tone of steel underneath it. I'm heaving for air, trying to catch my breath and he's still close enough that the rise and fall of my chest is rubbing my breasts against his t-shirt.

To my horror, I can feel my nipples harden. Nikandr's body is warm, like a blast furnace, radiating menace. Why did I think this man was cold? Even his eyes are burning as his enormous hand reaches up to close around my throat. He watches his fingers stroke idly over my galloping pulse, his calloused fingertip against my carotid artery. His hand is light, not squeezing yet but it's a grip.

Out on the quiet street I hear a low voice, I can tell by the musical Haitian note that it's probably Nadege. I push Nikandr deeper into the shadows she runs by, I can see another one of the runners tonight just behind her, and crunch above us as someone slides down the same metal roof. Nikandr looks at them with a frown and then back to me.

I should slap his hand away from my throat.

I should punch him in his pretty face.

Instead, I open my mouth and sneer, "Sorry, you're going to have to find someone else to choke out. It's not my kink."

He gives me a smile, and it's unsettling. Maybe because I don't see many smiles from him. This one, though, looks avid. Hungry. Maybe his little arson spree has got his blood moving in the same way my night runs do. His fingers tighten just slightly; I choke back a noise. Not a whimper because I wouldkillmyself before I let that come out. But… something, and he hears it. Unfortunately. His grin widens as he leans in, running the tip ofhis nose down the side of my face, and I draw in a breath so fast that I cough.

"You smell like fear and adrenaline," he murmurs, his thumb stroking my pulse again.

"That's because some giant freak just attacked me," I snap.

His chest moves in a silent chuckle andgoddamnitmy nipples are hardagain. His mouth is so close. His breath is vodka and wintergreen. I can see that his eyes aren’t hazel, the way I thought. They’re actually a dark green, like the forest, showered with golden flecks. He's close enough that I breathe him in, and he breathes me out. My heart skips a beat or two, making me dizzy. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and I want to do the same thing to him. Does his mouth taste like wintergreen and vodka, too?

A car pulls up to the curb. It's a Maserati SUV. Of course, this guy has a Maserati.

Nikandr steps back, expressionless again. "I'll give you a ride home."

"Yeah, no. I don't take rides from strangers and I'm meeting up with someone."

His face hardens slightly at that and his arm slips around my waist, bodily lifting me off my feet. High enough, in fact, that my swinging running shoes are somewhere around his shin, and I'm tempted to kick him again. Hauling me over to the car, he scoops his arm under my knees, putting me on the seat as lightly as if he was tossing a duffel bag.

I'm sturdy. I am not delicate. I'm not somebody you throw around the way this asshole is manhandling me. Like it didn't take the slightest bit of exertion.

The route back to the hotel runs a few blocks from the conflagration. As I'm texting Niko to let him know I'm safe but I can't make the meetup, I can hear the drone of fire sirens and the thunderous boom of something falling, a wall, likely or the roof caving in.

"You must be very proud," I say sourly.

The firelight plays across the face of a gorgeous woman in the front seat. She's turned to look at me, and she's smiling, as if she approves. She has thick black hair and pale blue eyes. Very Russian. Extremely hot.