Page 72 of Heritage of Fire

Leaving my car with the valet, I wait outside in the cool air for Frank to drop Luna off. I specifically requested he bring her andnotLev, and required him to keep me updated on their ETA. They should be arriving soon.

The faint smell of cigar smoke drifts by. Several recognizable businessmen enter the building, beautiful women on their arms. Five minutes later, Frank pulls up to the curb. I stride over to the vehicle and open the door for Luna.

The air is knocked from me as she steps out. A lustrous black fabric hugs her curves. Sleek and fitted, the sleeveless gown gathers at her waist to create a flattering hourglass effect. A plunging neckline outlined with lace vies for my attention. To make things worse, she smiles at me.

I’m stunned. The gown shimmers like stars in the night with every move forward. I pick up her hand, lacing my fingers through hers, and lean in to graze the shell of her ear.

“Trying to kill me, Luna?”

She must be. Her hair spills over her shoulders, and small pearl studs sit on her ears—but it’s her deep chestnut eyes that grab me, alight with embers that burn through me.

As I lead her through the building, I can tell Luna’s awestruck. Her head falls back as she peers up at the massive chandeliers; they’re more pieces of art than functional lights.

I have to practically drag her onto the elevator to keep her moving. As soon as I press the button to the top floor, I step into her. She sucks in a surprised breath, but her face softens, and she sways into me, her scent wrapping around me.

My hand snaps up around her neck, just enough pressure to garner her attention. Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t pull away. Breath turning slightly ragged she holds my gaze. My thumb presses into her wild pulse.

“You doing this on purpose, Luna? Messing with my head?” Her lips part, and when she doesn’t answer, I growl, squeezing a little harder. Instead of my touch prompting her to speak, her eyes flutter closed. I crack.

I whirl her around, pushing her into the cold steel of the elevator wall, her body mirrored in the reflection. Her panting increases, and I climb my hand up her side.

“What have you done to me, Luna?” My mouth comes to her neck, and I drag my teeth down the column of her dainty throat.

Wrapping my free arm around her waist, I pull her into me, the need to have her close taking over.

The strength I’ve exhibited not letting myself have her wavers with each passing day—each moment. I’m seconds from leaving this place. Screw dinner.

I turn her back around then lean her against the wall to devour her mouth. A groan vibrates deep within my chest as I taste her again—my mouth starved for her lush, plump lips. I delve into her, pressing her face to mine and pulling her lower lip between my teeth.

“I want to destroy you in the worst possible way,” I say, before our mouths clash again. We’re a mess of teeth, tongues, and passion. She meets me in fervor, each of our mouths battling for the upper hand. I’machingfor her.

The slowing of the elevator jostles us, and she pulls away, biting her lower lip seductively.

“I think you’re well on your way, Nik.”

Ah hell.

At the ding of the elevator, I step off, Luna right behind me, as a man with a few women enters.

In order to glimpse Luna’s reaction to the restaurant, I turn and notice her face has gone ashen. And then, the entire mood is killed with one simple name.

“Bella?” Luna’s voice is one part confusion, one part anger. Her gaze darts between the older man and two other girls with him. They’re all dressed in expensive-looking skintight dresses and high heels. They’re beautiful women, but there’s obvious tension surrounding them.

“Luna?” her sister says.

The older man is tall, with black hair peppered with gray. His steel-gray eyes scrutinize Luna, gaze roaming her body.

Nyet.

I step back on the elevator and lean against the doors to keep them from closing. Isabella’s eyes widen when she notices me.

The man’s eyes flick over me, expression unimpressed. He’s obviously unaware of who I am.

“Get out. We need to leave,” he says to Luna, and she bristles before taking a step toward her sister.

She points at Isabella. “I want to talk to her first.”

Her sister’s hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail that swishes back and forth as she shakes her head in answer. “No, I’ll see you in class on Monday.” She widens her eyes in silent communication.

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