Was it wrong to be turned on right now? Probably. It’s not like he could sweep her in his arms and kiss the smug look off her face. And now that he’d had a taste, his body was screaming at him to indulge. If he thought her mere temptation before, she was close to irresistible now.
He avoided locking eyes with her, too afraid he’d see the same spark of desire mirrored back at him. Would she force him into a wall, hands like claws in his shirt or down his back, nails just starting to bite at his skin as she kissed him? This was hardly the time to imagine Miranda ripping through his clothes like paper, pinning him with her body or commanding him exactly where she wanted. The same way she’d been forceful and commanding a mere hour ago, taking her pleasure with a ruthlessness that made his blood run too hot.
His eyes landed on her. Unable to resist.
And lust bloomed in her gaze.
He could forget the loss, forget that the damage around him was devastating, for just one more stolen moment to hear her breathing hitch as she came undone against him.
More commotion from the other room broke the tension. Devin glanced around, a shield of numb emptiness settling over him as they moved to the next room. Miranda tossed him the knife and he caught it, but barely.
“You need the protection more than I do,” she teased before entering the rooms devoted to his clienteles’ baser interests. This room was normally cast in shadows and dim, warm lighting. But that was during club hours and the sun was rising fast. The softer touches of velvets and satin were in shreds. Enforcers threwbenches and chaise lounges into a heap. Another doused the growing pile in a clear liquid.
They were going to burn the place down.
Miranda grappled with an enforcer, no match for them in strength, she was easily tossed aside. Devin started forward, but hadn’t a chance to move before she nimbly rolled into the fall and snatched an end table as she stood.
Once again he was riveted to how her lithe body moved. How she smashed the solid table into the enforcer’s side, sending shards of wood flying through the room. The enforcer was unfazed by the blow, but her intent had been to get close enough to leap and toss a leg around the enforcer’s shoulders.
Using the momentum of her jump, her thighs twisted around their head before using her entire body to offset their balance and send them both crashing to the ground. Miranda popped to her feet and slammed her foot down on the enforcer’s head. For a moment, Devin's only thoughts were of her thighs clenching aroundhisface…
Devin tore his eyes from Miranda. She hardly needed his assistance and there had to be something productive he could do aside from standing there gawking. Though, it was now clear that adrenaline was tunneling his thoughts, blocking out the greater picture, and intently focused on Miranda tearing a slit in her dress so she could roundhouse an enforcer into a wall.
He had barely taken a step when the bigger picture started to put itself together. An enforcer flicked a match and tossed it into the sopping wreckage. They were burning the place down now, right now.
Time was up.
He ran for Miranda.
Devin was behind her when she dodged a punch that hit him square in the shoulder, sending him spinning onto the floor. Devin opened his eyes to an unbalanced ceiling—or perhapsthat was just his vision that was unbalanced—and his shoulder burning.
Miranda helped him to his feet and every movement sent waves of hot acid through his arm and chest. His shoulder was out of alignment.
“You’re hurt—”
“Doesn’t matter…move,” he pushed her forward with his good arm, urging her away as flames erupted behind them. With all the wood and the amount of starter fluid drenching things, they’d be engulfed in minutes. The enforcers stopped fighting and started retreating, their work done. Miranda didn’t leave his side, instead letting him lean on her as they cleared the room and he guided her toward a back exit.
Once outside Devin was blinded by the sun. His propensity for the moon made it all the more painful to stare daylight in the face. He got himself to a crate of supplies, stacks of them lined the back alleys of the club, and closed his eyes to the throbbing in his shoulder.
Miranda approached, tentatively looking without getting too close to him.
She pursed her lips. “It’s misaligned. It’s happened to me a few times.” She hovered in his face, his eyes barely open because of the sun and pain. “Just focus on me and it’ll be fine in a moment.”
Shit. He knew what she was going to do and he steeled himself.
In a flash, she adjusted her body and applied pressure at just the right angle until his shoulder gave with a horrendouspop. He doubled over, but the radiating agony was subsiding. He started to catch his breath.
“You’ll be sore for a bit,” Miranda added. Devin kept his eyes on the ground. As the pain subsided to a dull, but tolerable roar, his senses began to clear. His club was gone. Ruined. Beyond repair. Everything he’d built, gone in a blink.
“Devin, I’m so sorry,” she offered, and pity and concern replaced her normal fire. “Maybe there’s a way to repair the damage.”
He could hear the crackle of flames taking root fast. The loss was more devastating than she could realize. She could lose her house and still have her place in the world, her wealth. This wasn’t just his livelihood, this club was the proof that he had something more to offer than drinking his life away and a fruitless hunger for revenge.
“It’s time you went home, Miranda,” he said, standing upright.
In the sting of daylight, with so much devastation heaped on him over a single night, he had nothing left. The servants and his security had been gathered outside by Jack. They were mingling just ahead, near a different exit. Together they could keep the flames down and maybe save the structure, if not the contents.
“But…” She reached for him, and he pulled away. There was nothing more she could do aside from confusing his already frayed sanity. He didn’t want comfort. He wanted to lay down and not get up. He wanted to throw and smash what was left, because what was the point? More than anything, he did not want to hurt Miranda or let her see that he could fracture, too. It was getting very difficult to hide his weakness. He wasn’t about to allow himself to fall into her arms and let the warmth of her soothe his desolation. She had to leave. He was going to break.
