****
The Party Crasher fled into the night, flickering through the trees like a shade. Cole’s hired thugs had been pitifully easy to elude, but it had been a close brush with the blonde. He hadn’t anticipated her showing up like that. Ah, well, he’d handled it. Sucked that he had to take her down like that…it wasn’t her turn, at least not yet. Oh, well. She’d be back up and around by the time he had use for her. Now, to cover his ass…
Pulling the phone from his pocket, he thumbed in a speed dial number as he climbed into his vehicle. Turning the ignition over, cranking the stereo up, he leaned back against the seat as he waited for the call to connect.
“Yeah,” Styx barked, panting into the phone.
“Hey, man, I—”
“Where the fuck are you?” A door slammed in the background, and he smiled.
“Ah…corner of…Thirty-second and Bla—” 110
“Fuck, man. He was here.” Styx cut him off, his words punctuated by pounding footsteps.
“What’s going on back there, Styx?” Dead silence met his question. Then, music to his ears…
“Alex?” Cole’s panic filled voice echoed in the background. His glee knew no end.
He bit back a chuckle when Styx’s voice echoed through the phone line. “Alex! Shit!” The line went dead. Laughing aloud, he shifted his vehicle into gear and cranked the wheel.
111
He tore from the study at a dead sprint, Styx dogging his heels. Styx’s phone rang then, and Styx answered, but Cole was too worried to pay the conversation any mind. He passed Danny and Zack in one of the halls without stopping to offer an explanation. Curious, the two followed in their wake. Cole froze the minute he opened the door, his heart lurched in his chest. His three companions crashed into his back, craning their necks to see what caused Cole’s palpable distress.
The studio was in shambles. Sheet music littered the floor. Instruments, always carefully stored away, lay in twisted chaos all about the floor. On the far wall, dozens of enlarged, autographed glossy PR pictures of Cole smiled through a haze of blood red scribble.
Cole staggered into the room, his heart hammering in his chest now. Wild honey wafted to him on the gentle breeze, stirred by the air conditioner. Wild honey…and blood. His nostrils flared at the sweet tang. He’d know that scent anywhere.
His voice broke as panic consumed him.
“Alex?”
Silence met his query, and then Styx’s voice filled the void. “Alex! Shit!” Cole’s gaze swung away from the control booth, his eyes dropped to the floor, just around the corner from the door. She lay on the flat, gray, acoustical carpeting, face down and 112
motionless. Danny’s guitar sprawled on the floor beside her head, broken in two with nothing more than the strings to hold it together.
Cole leaped across the distance to kneel at her side, his heart lodged in his throat. His hands shook as he reached out to brush the hair from her brow. He swore, viciously, his vision turning red at the sight of the large, purplish bruise already forming on the side of her pale cheek.
A bright, crimson trickle of blood, the product of a small cut where the jagged edge of splintered wood scratched her delicate skin, traced a path over the pale smoothness of her injured cheek.
Protective rage swelled to dangerous levels inside him. Before he stopped to think, before anyone could caution him against it, he scooped her up in his arms to cradle her in his lap, pressing her against his chest. Her heart still beat. Her lungs still pulled air in and pushed it out. She was still alive…but she’d been hurt.
The scent of her blood stroked his hunger, but he ignored it, concerned only with her safety.
A woman like her was meant to be kept locked away in an ivory tower. One only he held the key to. This was his fault. If he hadn’t allowed himself to become so distracted with that damned album… If he’d taken more care with security… If he’d just…
“Alex,” he rumbled, hoarse with emotion. His hand feathered over her uninjured cheek and down to test the rise and fall of her chest. The faint, fluttering pulse at the base of her throat both tempted and reassured him. This could have been much, much worse, he told himself. Fear fisted in his gut, twisting like a splintered stake in his heart. His voice was raw. “Alex, come on.
Sweetheart, wake up.”
Behind him, all sound stopped as three males 113
froze. Cole never allowed emotional attachment with any female. Ever. And most especially not a
Mortal
female. He was certain curious, shocked glances flew his way at the telling endearment, but he didn’t give a damn. To the last man, all were smart enough to withhold comment.
“Cole.” Styx nudged his shoulder after a long, silent moment, drawing his attention. “We should call an ambulance.”
Cole was just about to agree, when she stirred in his arms, moaning.
“She’s coming around.” Cole urged anxiously,
“That’s it, Alexandra. Open your eyes.”
“Don’t call me that…” Her assertion was fierce, but her voice sounded kitten weak.
“Only…Lily calls me…Alexandra…hate it.” Hoarse with worry and fear, Cole ordered,
“Zack, get her some water.”
“Cole?” Groggy, Alex peered up at him, blinked with confusion.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, and he tensed, alarmed. She blinked, working to refocus.
Flinching, a trembling hand lifted to her cheek, and she groaned her pain aloud. The sound of it ripped through him. His worried gaze locked on her pale face. She blinked again, visibly pushing the pain back down.
“I think I’m okay,” she murmured, her eyes unfocused, hazy as she moved about cautiously.
Then her eyes refocused on his face, and she added, “But you look like hell.” His heart twisted.
“You’re going to be all right, sweetheart.
Everything’s going to be all right.” He squeezed her to him for a moment as relief lapped through him in staggering waves. “Can you tell me what happened?”
She struggled in his arms, intent on sitting 114
up. Cole refused to release her. She gave up without a fight and sagged against him, cradling her head with her hand.
“I, I don’t…I’m not sure. I opened the door, walked in, and flipped on the light. It just happened so fast. Someone rushed me. I thought…” She shook her head, pressing the heel of her palm to her temple, cringing. “For a moment, I thought I saw the edge of a guitar, but then everything went black.”
Even as she spoke, Danny scooped up the pieces of his Stu Hamm DTUNER from the ground, looking for all the world as if a close friend had just sustained a mortal injury. Zack handed a bottle of water to Styx, then began sifting through the chaos, picking the music and discarded instruments up off the floor, settling them back on their stands. Danny’s guitar wasn’t the only instrument to sustain damage. Devon’s keyboard looked as if it had tangled with the underside of a Mack truck…and lost. The only thing missing were the tread marks.
Styx pressed the water into Alex’s shaking hand. Worried amber eyes searched her face.
“Here, Alex. Drink some of this.” Following his instructions without balking, Alex took a few tentative sips and handed the bottle back with a weak smile of thanks, snuggling against Cole’s chest. His hands smoothed over her back and neck.
Styx pressed, “Did you get a look at his face?” From the protective cradle of Cole’s arms, Alex closed her eyes for a moment, pressing a hand to her temple again. “No, I don’t think so. It was fast. A black hood, that’s all I remember. A black hood…and the guitar.”
“Ok,” Cole cut in, seeing—
feeling
—how much pain she was struggling to fend off. By the looks 115
of that bruise, she had to be fighting off waves of pain pounding through her skull like a drummer jacked up on speed. By Thor, his own stomach rolled with it. “We need to take you to the hospital, have you checked over.”
“No,” Alex blanched. “I’m fine, no hospital.”
“But Alex,” Styx reasoned. “You’re hurt—”
“No,” she insisted and began to shake her head, only to wince and fall back against Cole’s shoulder with a soft moan.
Styx raised concerned eyes to Cole,
wordlessly urging him to intervene. Cole gritted his teeth, nodding acknowledgement. “You need a doctor, sweetheart.”
“Please, Cole,” she whispered against the side of his neck, cringing as if the sound of her own voice ricocheted off the inside of her skull. “No hospitals. I can’t…I can’t stand hospitals.” It took several long moments, waged in silent tug of war, but he finally conceded, “All right…but only if you let me bring somebody in to look at you.”
“Fine,” she allowed. “I just want to go lie down now.”
“No!” Both Cole and Styx barked the word, making her groan and clutch at her head with both hands. Then Cole continued in a much more reasonable tone, “You could have a concussion, Alex. You can’t go to sleep.”
He turned to Styx. “Find a doctor, call Tommy…”
The Spaniard nodded, and Cole rose, lifting Alex with him as if she weighed no more than a guitar pick. He cradled her against his chest, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. Alex wrapped her arms around his neck without the slightest argument, burrowing closer to his warmth. Pivoting on his heel, Cole strode from the 116
room, leaving Styx and the others to deal with the mess.
Alex’s soft comment caressed the side of Cole’s neck. “You know, I believe you’re starting to make a habit of this.”
“What’s that?” Cole frowned, not liking how thready her voice sounded. He quickened his pace, more worried about her condition than he was about having to explain how he could move so quickly.
“This whole white knight charging to the rescue thing you’ve got going on, carrying the damsel in distress around and all that.” A small smile flirted at the edges of her soft mouth.
Cole couldn’t seem to help himself. Despite his worry, a chuckle over her assertion rumbled up in his chest. Imagine. Him…a white knight.
Not even on his best day. He slowed some, figuring if she could joke like this, then she might not have been hurt as seriously as he’d first feared.
His chuckles died on a strangled groan when she pressed light, nibbling kisses to the side of his neck. “I must admit, Cole. I do find it rather irresistible, the way you keep sweeping me off my feet. Although, to be honest, the first time I saw you, I pictured you more as a ruthless Viking, out to conquer the world,” she murmured, groggily.
Cole missed a step, but she must have been too dazed to feel it, she didn’t comment. Her hand smoothed over corded muscles that flexed and tensed beneath his tattoo, branding him.
Her sigh was dreamy. “I think I could get used to this.”
His entire body came alive with memories of well over a millennia ago. A time when a man with enough strength and power could take what he wanted, anything he wanted, and no one could 117
stand in his way. A time when men were conquerors…and women prizes.
The prize in his arms hadn’t finished torturing him just yet. She nuzzled against the side of his neck, murmuring, “Have I told you how sexy I think your tattoo is, Cole? Who am I kidding?
Everything
about
you
is drop-dead, mouth-watering sexy.”
He stopped in his tracks. His mouth fell open at her uncensored, uninhibited words. His body went rigid. The blood surged to his groin, painful and greedy. Unadulterated lust raked through him with greedy claws. Sucking in a sharp breath, worried anew by her odd behavior, he flew to the study and pushed his way inside.
It seemed both forever and yet seconds, before Cole lowered her to the sofa in his study.
Her head sagged back against the cushions with a sigh. Cole knelt before her and stared into her dilated eyes. Alex leaned forward then, catching him off guard. She raised both hands, cupping his cheeks with aching gentleness. Without apology, without warning, she drew his face to hers and pressed her lips to his. He froze for half a second, his eyes widened in stunned shock before sinking closed in surrender.
Alex smiled against his lips and murmured,
“Hell, why not. If I’m dreaming…I might as well go for the gold.”
Her tongue slipped inside his mouth to tangle with his in an erotic game of love-play that sent tremor after tremor racing through his body. The feel of her tongue in his mouth, daring and enticing, stopped Cole’s heartbeat dead in its tracks.
Her hands slid to the back of his head, her fingers tangled in his tawny locks, holding him still for her shameless assault. Cole’s hands 118
gripped her hips, tugging her to the edge of the sofa, and Alex moaned, angling her head to deepen the kiss. She skated her hands over his neck and shoulders to caress his chest with bold, questing fingers, purring feminine approval deep in her throat.
Her hands on his body shook him from the inside out. His control slipped through his fingers like running water. The ancient, primitive beast within growled lusty approval. His hands spanned her waist just below her tank. The silken texture of her skin taunted him to take more.
Cole wrested control of the kiss from her, devouring her lips, lapping at her tongue. He nudged her legs farther apart, yanking her tight against him, wedging his hips between her parted thighs.
All too soon, reality came crashing down on Cole, even if it was lost on Alex. The brush of her fingers slipping into the low waistband of his jeans—tugging at the button and working the zipper—wrung a tortured gasp from him. She pulled him harder into the cradle of her thighs, and lust hit him hard, licking at his control like a flaming torch set to dry kindling.
Dreaming… Her words came back to haunt him. She thought she was dreaming…
Kicking himself for giving into the temptation of her kiss—cursing himself for his sudden attack of conscience—he captured her wrists in his long, nimble fingers, and held her wayward hands trapped between them. It almost took more will power than he possessed to tear his lips from hers.
Cole leaned back and sucked in one long breath after another, gasping for air, grasping for control, trying his best to ignore the seductive pout of her kiss-swollen lips. The wanton, come-119
hither look in her eyes was nearly more than he could deny. Forcing himself to turn away before he set them down a path she may never be able to accept…a path he may never recover from, he pushed her back against the seat, refusing to let her lie down.
“No, Alex, not like this.” Keeping his face turned away lest she see the unholy glow in his icy blue eyes, he sat down beside her and tucked her against his side. Conscience warred with instinct.