“Go for it,” I tell him with a shake of my head as he stalks over, gun in hand. I should give him a break. He’s been pushed out of his usual comfort zone today. Plus, he did watch the enemy destroy his house.
The elevator doors slide open, and the concierge’s wide smile fades the second he sees the massive male standing in front of him. “Good afternoon. I’m Sheraton, the concierge. I’ve brought up your request. Where would you like me to place the food and clothes?”
“You can place the tray here,” I tell him, motioning to the small table by the window where the bottle of wine sits. “Clothes in the bedroom.”
Gatlin sniffs the air, then stiffens. “Wolf?”
A tiny bit of arrogance crosses the man’s face, and he lifts his chin. “Yes. The Sharma pack owns the hotel.” He pushes the cart past Gatlin and grabs the tray of food. After placing the dishesand cutlery on the table, he rolls the rack of clothes and shoes into the bedroom. “Will that be all?”
“Yes, thank you, Sheraton,” I say with a smile. When the doors close, I stalk over and glare up at him. “If you want to be rude and grumpy, go do it somewhere else. The Hari is one of my favorite places to stay in London, and I won’t have your suspicious nature ruining it for me. Got it?”
He gives me an incredulous look, then glances down at the finger jabbed into his chest. “My job is protecting this team, and I’ll do whatever I damn well think is best for your safety.” His eyes lock on mine. Reaching up, he takes my finger from his chest and captures it in his warm hand.
My eyes narrow, but I refuse to give him any satisfaction by jerking my hand from his. As the battle of wills continues, his body heat stretches across the space between us, making me flush.
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to poke the bear?” he practically snarls.
I snort. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to get between a woman and her food?” When he continues to hold me close, I flick a stiletto out of my other sleeve and press it to his neck. My heart races as the tension builds between us. “We can become quite bloodthirsty when we’re hangry.”
He blinks in surprise, then a wide smile appears. “I was beginning to worry you had zero self-preservation. Nice little blade you got there.” Golden eyes begin to glow. “I don’t think you realize how tough a gryphon’s skin can be.”
The skin beneath the stiletto hardens until it’s almost impenetrable. I move the blade to somewhere more vulnerable and much further south and stare up at him, a challenge in my eyes. “Does that apply everywhere?”
His voice is husky when he steps closer. “Careful. I like to play too.”
My eyes widen at his innuendo, and a delicious shiver cascades down my spine. An image of his golden body covering mine makes me swallow. It’s been too long since I indulged myself, but my attraction to two of his team members already complicates things.
He must read the answer on my face because he slowly releases my hand. “Hungry?”
The stiletto disappears into the sleeve of my robe. “Starving.” Yet, I find myself unable to move away from the golden gleam in his eyes.
He leans in close and breathes in. “You smell a hell of a lot better than the wolf.”
“Another reason I like The Hari,” I warn him, forcing myself to step away from his mesmerizing eyes and walk over to the table. “You’d better eat before your steak gets cold.” I sit down and pick up my BLT and bring it to my lips. His eyes track my every move.
Seconds later, he prowls over and takes the seat across from me. After eating a few bites, he tilts his head. “Harlequin underground. Mysterious friends. The Hari. What other secrets are you hiding?”
I chuckle. “Those aren’t my secrets. I’m their client. There isn’t much in this world gold can’t buy.”
He nods in agreement, but the air is thick with undercurrents.
We eat in silence for a few minutes.
“Look. You and your team know more about me than the rest of the world. More than I’ve shared in centuries, in fact,” I offer, extending an olive branch.
“Which is very little,” he scoffs. “Why are you so evasive?”
“Why are you so nosy?” I counter, exasperated by his questioning.
He shrugs. “You’ll have to ask the Magi. It’s ingrained in me. Along with a lot of other traits they deemed necessary, like the role of protector.”
Hmm. Never thought about it from that angle.
“I never realized there were supernaturals here before the portals opened,” I admit to him. “Are there others?”
“Magic has existed since the dawn of time. Some humans were born with it. Demigods, of course. But regular humans too. The first were called The Magi, but over time, other names cropped up. Sorceress. Wizard. Witch. Eventually, the various names combined into one—mage.” He pauses, then his gaze turns speculative.
For a long second, he studies me. “In ancient times, some humans received powers as a gift or a curse.” He pauses. “That’s it, isn’t it? Your ‘gift’ comes from the gods. It’s why you don’t smell like any other supernatural race.”
