Page 16 of Mortal Heart

“I didn’t say I have you figured out,” he countered. “I’m a long way from that. Idoknow more about you than almost anyone else knows. And what’s got you confused is that it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as you think it should.”

“I’m not confused,” she said icily. “And you don’t know anything more than I’ve let you know.”

Cleo returned to the table with their drinks. Arkady stayed on Ronan’s lap, but he sensed tension and distance between them now. He’d blundered across a boundary with his comment about knowing her better than she’d realized, and he wasn’t sure he could repair the damage.

Once they’d sipped their drinks and she seemed to have relaxed a little, Ronan said, “You’re not at all thrown off by any of this. Setting a honey trap in a strip club is just another night for you.”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” Arkady shrugged. “It’s business. I’m surprised by how businesslikeyouare.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a boy and we’re in a strip club.” She peered mischievously over the rim of her glass. “Boys usually have a difficult time focusing with so manylusciousdistractions.”

“It’s been a very, very long time since I was a boy, Miss Woodall.”

In fact, he’d never been a child of any sort. Even a newborn archangel was not a child. He remembered the moment he came into being eons ago, already in his angelic form and with the collective wisdom of the ages. Archangels evolved as their experiences shaped them, but he’d never known childhood.

It occurred to him suddenly to wonder why Michael hadn’t begun his sentence with human birth, rather than leaving him in the body of an adult man. He supposed whatever the reason was, it was more punishment. Perhaps Michael didn’t want him to experience the love of a family or the wonders and simple pleasures of human childhood.

Arkady gasped. “Ronan!”

He’d crushed his glass without realizing it. He looked at his bloody hand with detachment, as if his injury had happened to someone else.

Arkady grabbed their drink napkins and wrapped his hand, using her body to hide his wound from those sitting nearby. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” she demanded.

Her anger confused him until he realized he’d startled and scared her. “I’m all right.” He caught her hand with his uninjured one and held on. “It was an accident. They use cheap glasses here that break much too easily.”

“Ronan.” She pulled her hand out of his. “What did I just say about trying to bullshit me? What’s wrong?”

What could he tell her that was close enough to the truth to appease her? He considered several options, rejected each of them, and settled on a simple, “Nothing that either of us can fix.”

“Are you moping again? Don’t make me get tough with you.” She glared at him. “And how are we supposed to co-seduce Mora if you look like you stuck your hand in a garbage disposal? Blood isn’t sexy. Well, okay, blood issometimessexy,” she amended. “But not in this context.”

He wanted to know in what contexts she found blood sexy and whether they matched his own thoughts on the subject, but as she’d pointed out, they were here for business.

He drew on the healing power Michael had allowed him to keep and let it pulse through his hand. His skin itched as it healed.

“Go get him to bite the hook,” he told her. “I’ll clean up my hand and join you.” When she eyed him distrustfully, he gave her his bedroom smile again and enjoyed her little shiver. “I want to watch you work your magic, don’t I, my little exhibitionist? Isn’t that part of our game?”

“Call me your littleanythingagain and you’re going to be real sorry,” she muttered. “Fine.” She took a deep breath, exhaled, and returned his sultry look with one of her own. “Watch me work if you dare.” She slid off his lap, smoothed her jeans over her hips, lowered her jacket zipper another inch, and took her drink with her to Mora’s table.

Ronan watched her cross the room. So did almost every man she walked past. Some spoke to her, but she ignored them. She stalked Oliver Mora like a lioness going after prey.

Arkady bent over and touched Mora’s shoulder. Mora glanced up and got an eyeful of her cleavage before he managed to tear his gaze away and look up at her smile and fluttering lashes.

In moments, Arkady was seated next to Mora at the table and murmuring into his ear. Thanks to the loud music, Ronan couldn’t hear what she said, but she appeared to have one hundred percent of Mora’s attention.

The trap was sprung and Mora didn’t have a prayer. Ronan almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

As Arkady worked her magic, Ronan unwrapped the napkins from his hand. The cuts had disappeared. He brushed the broken glass into the napkins, told Cleo he’d dropped the glass, and traded the little carefully wrapped bundle of shards and a cash tip for another full glass of tequila.

Drinks in hand, Arkady and Mora rose and moved toward the doorway leading to the VIP lounge. Ronan growled to himself when Mora rested his hand possessively on Arkady’s ass and gave it what looked like a painful squeeze. Somehow she managed to stay in character and even giggled playfully, when Ronan was sure she’d rather have punched Mora in the jaw hard enough that he ended up gargling several teeth.

Still smiling, Arkady murmured in Mora’s ear and gestured in Ronan’s direction. Mora glanced Ronan’s way, his expression one of cool assessment. Ronan kept his focus on Arkady. To Mora and any casual observer, she probably seemed entirely at ease, but Ronan couldn’t have missed the cold fury in her eyes as Mora gave her another squeeze. He had a feeling what her opinion would be on whether to toss Mora into Alice’s garden once they finished with him.

Meanwhile, whatever Arkady had said and done, Mora wanted her. His body language made that clear. Even the prospect of performing for an audience didn’t seem to put him off. Or maybe he thought he’d be able to get Arkady to ditch Ronan for a more private encounter.

Either way, so far, so good. Arkady had done her job. Now Ronan had to play the part of a voyeuristic lover who liked to watch his woman have sex with other men. But the more he thought about Mora’s hands on Arkady’s body, the more difficult the role seemed. He didn’t deserve any say over who touched her and who didn’t, but that didn’t make the prospect of Mora pawing her any less infuriating.

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