Page 61 of Shadow's Edge (Night Prowler 1)
But she remained as if separated from them all by a layer of glass: serene, unperturbed, as if she thought herself nothing more than a curiosity in a museum case, a shrunken head brought back from the deepest bowels of the Amazon, on display for all to see.
He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
“Careful, love,” he said, his voice stroking. “They’re all looking for any reason to lock you up and throw away the key. Don’t give them one.”
Jenna raised an eyebrow in return, cool and haughty as Cleopatra before the Romans. “They? Not you?”
He smiled, very slightly, in spite of himself. “My reasons are different from theirs, of that I can assure you,” he murmured. He held her gaze for what felt like an eternity, willing her to respond, to give him any clue she felt anything at all for him.
But naturally she gave him nothing but a chilly smile and her perfect profile as she turned her head to the person now upon them.
“Jenna.” Morgan glided to a stop next to his elbow. “You look lovely.” Leander saw the two of them exchange a secret, knowing smile.
“It’s my favorite, I think,” Jenna said, offhand. She smoothed her palm over the layers of ruched silk gathered just under the bodice, at the swell of her breast where it met the upper part of her ribcage. “I’ve never been partial to red, but this one...well, the fit is perfect.” She glanced sidelong at Leander, her smile warming almost imperceptibly. “For some strange reason, I just love it.”
“May I get you something to drink?” Morgan asked her, deferential.
“Champagne?” Jenna replied, still smiling. “That seems rather appropriate, don’t you think?” Morgan nodded, her lips mashed together, and drifted away toward a waiter.
“You two seem to be forging quite the friendship,” Leander said, watching her go. There was something amiss here, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. She and Morgan were close now, it seemed...and how the hell had she gotten past the guards?
Every minute fissure and crack in the room had been sealed off before her arrival. Even the door was protected with invisible sealant to block her from Shifting to vapor and escaping. No precaution had been spared, but somehow it hadn’t mattered.
The music started up again and people were beginning to talk, if only in hushed whispers. Every eye in the room was still trained on the two of them.
Jenna’s smile deepened, became mocking. “I’ve been told, by a very reliable source, that it’s good to have friends.” The green in her eyes turned a shade darker. “People whom you can trust in times of need.”
Morgan returned and handed Jenna a glass of champagne, its crystal bowl filled with madly roiling bubbles. She did it so politely Leander imagined an invisible curtsy with the gesture. Another look passed between them, and Morgan placed her fingers lightly on Jenna’s forearm before turning to move back into the crowd, toward a still-gaping Christian.
His gaze was fixed firmly on Jenna’s leg, still insouciantly jutting from the high slit in her dress. It then traveled slowly up her waist, her breasts, her face.
Christian realized Leander was staring at him at precisely the moment Morgan reached his side.
Leander met Christian’s eyes with a cool, steady look of his own, until his brother dropped his gaze and turned away. Morgan said a few words into his ear. Christian nodded stiffly, then stalked off into the crowd.
“Are you? In need, that is? Of anything?” Leander asked, turning back to Jenna.
“I am...well.” He thought he saw something in her eyes, something that might have been either pain or anger, swiftly erased.
“Yes, Morgan said as much. Though not much else,” he added, pointedly.
She only smiled, still mysterious.
“You weren’t badly hurt?” he prompted.
“My foot wasn’t badly hurt, no,” she equivocated, moving her gaze over the gathering in the ballroom. “It’s healed now. Thank you for your concern.”
“So quickly?” he pressed, unconvinced. “There seemed to be a great deal of blood—”
“Morgan is a very good nurse,” she replied vaguely, peering over his shoulder.
This polite, sterile conversation was beginning to make the palms of his hands itch.
What had she been doing for the last four days? Why had she not spoken with him? With anyone else but Morgan? When could he speak with her alone? Why the hell was she being so remote?
“Just out of curiosity, who is the tall, handsome man standing with all those women against the far wall?”
He didn’t have to turn his head to know who she was referring to. He answered her through clenched teeth. “Alejandro. Alpha of the Brazilian colony.”
