Harlan sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. A cloud of steam swirled in the air as he tried to rein in his initial impulses. Both the vampire and the assassin demanded he extract her from that unsafe little hovel at the first opportunity, but the man kept a stranglehold on the desire.
He could not waltz into Zia’s life and completely demolish it, only to remake it in the image that best suited him. She didn’t grow up in his world. There was no way she’d see his raging need to protect her like someone from the New Zone might. She was not used to the constant need for vigilance, nor the dance of seduction and protection that was the backbone of vampiric society.
Finding someone bigger and more powerful than you to act as a protector was expected, both in business and in more personal relationships. In the cut-throat world of the New Zone, where the families of the vampiric Syndicate were constantly at war, it was essential.
Either you were protected, you became strong enough to be the protector, or you died.
But this wasn’t the New Zone. This was the coddled, soft-skinned land of the Elvish Protectorate, where danger lived in high towers and pretended to obey laws. The weak felt safe because they didn’t expect a monster to live next door to them — and if they did, they felt secure knowing that Patrol would keep them safe.
Harlan was willing to bet thathewas the most dangerous person Zia had ever met.
And she doesn’t even know it.
Keeping his anchor safe and ignorant of just how bloody his world was would be the greatest challenge of his life.
His stomach turned again, churning with unfamiliar nerves.If she says yes.
He didn’t know how he would cope if she turned him down. If the sacrifice of being his anchor was too much for her, if she simply didn’t feel the same way he did, he wouldn’t try to force her — but letting her go would gut him all the same.
Dress shoes barely disturbing the gravel of her driveway, Harlan strode toward her front door. A fetching little wreath made of dried wildflowers decorated the drab door, adding a splash of color to the otherwise plain structure. He took it in with a small, almost imperceptible smile.
Another thing he noticed was that Zia had thoughtfully left the light over the door off — saving his sensitive eyes from searing discomfort. Harlan’s chest constricted with painful tenderness when he glanced up at the small light.
It was such a small thing, but for someone used to the world’s cruelty and little else, it was painfully significant. He didn’t buy that small gesture with money or intimidation. She did it simply because she was thoughtful. Because shecared.
If his craving for her was relentless before, it took on a new, uncomfortably desperate edge now. He didn’t just want her. He wanted all her little acts of kindness, all her smiles, all her love. Heneededthose things.
I’ll have them.
Sucking in a deep breath, Harlan raised his hand. The moment his knuckles touched the surface of the door for a swift knock, he felt a faint hum of magic all the way through his bones. His lips parted with surprise.
She has wards on the house,he realized, unexpectedly pleased.Strong ones, too.
Maybe she wouldn’t be so easy to sneak up on as he thought. While they weren’t enough to keep out someone like him, they would repel at least the lowest types of thugs.
He recognized the tenor of the wards she employed. They would cause severe disorientation and vomiting in any trespassers, giving her plenty of time to call for help.Hecould slice through the web of magic with ease, of course, but it was at least something.
A tiny trickle of relief eased some of the tension in his shoulders. If she didn’t want to move into the manor right away, he could contact the man who warded the estate and ask him to lay down an almost unbreakable net of magic over the cottage, adding layers onto the wards she already placed. It would cost him another few million, and Shade wasn’t exactly easy to work with — let alone get a hold of — but there was no amount of money he wouldn’t pay to keep his anchor safe.
Harlan was already thinking ahead, his keen, action-oriented mind working at lightspeed to plan for how exactly he would look after Zia. That didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention to the soft sounds coming from within the home, however.
Anticipation threatened to edge out his taut nerves as he listened to the beat of heels on thin carpet, the gentle brush of fabric swaying against a moving body. His heart rate spiked when the light from her living room window was extinguished.
The sound of her heels got closer, closer, until he could hear her breathing on the other side of the door. The thump of her heartbeat made it through, too, echoing his own.
Slowly, the knob turned and the door opened.
If he had been any other man, he would have staggered back a step at the sight of her. As it stood, all he could do was freeze, his breath stalling, as he stared at her backlit form.
Zia had pulled her curls up into a soft updo. Delicate ringlets of rich brown spilled out around her temples, ears, and the back of her neck. She wore a simple red cocktail dress with a deliciously curved neckline that enhanced the generous swell of her breasts. The skirt fell to her mid-thigh, giving him plenty of room to admire her shapely legs, which were swathed in sheer black tights. Little red pumps with straps over the top completed the ensemble.
She looks fucking delectable.
Harlan slowly raised his eyes back to her face and found her biting her red-stained lip. She had put on a dash of makeup for their date, which was unusual for her. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her with makeup on before. The fact that she put the extra time in for their date made his chest swell with pride.
Of course, it also made his cock hard. He wanted nothing more than to see that lipstick and mascara smeared by the end of the night.
With his cock stiff and the gland in the roof of his mouth aching worse than it ever had, Harlan had to force himself to remember his manners. In a hoarse voice, he said, “Good evening, Miss North.”
