Page 35 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
How could anyone affect her heart rate like that with such a simple touch? She thought if he ever kissed her, she might pass out on the spot. Then the thought of kissing him sent her heart rate into maximum overdrive, a race car screaming toward the checkered flag.
Somehow, he sensed it. His nostrils flared with an inhalation, his gaze dropped to the pulse beating wildly in her throat. He let his gaze travel slowly up her neck and over her face, and when again their eyes met, his were heated.
“Vanilla is my favorite flavor. And pudding…” he leaned in and inhaled again, against her skin. He whispered, “Pudding is delicious. The way it melts on your tongue…”
Her mouth and brain both barely working, she blurted, “I’d have guessed chocolate would be more your speed.”
Christian pulled away, just far enough so he was still dangerously close. If she wanted to, she could have leaned forward a few short inches and pressed her lips to his.
And if she was being honest with herself, she did want to. She so wanted to.
“People think chocolate is more decadent, but…” His gaze drifted to her mouth. “Chocolate comes from a tree. You can get it anywhere, even in a convenience store. It’s common. Vanilla, on the other hand, comes from orchids. It’s one of the most expensive spices in the world, second only to saffron. It’s pure, spicy, and delicate, and its essence is used in the finest perfumes. Vanilla is rare.” His gaze lifted back to hers. “And the rarer something is, the more value it has.”
Another thumb stroke behind her ear, accompanied by a look of such stark hunger Ember had a wild thought he might lean in and eat her.
“You’re different. Tonight, you seem…different,” she whispered. “What’s happened?”
His hand stilled on her face. His brows drew together and he looked at her—looked into her—with a gaze so penetrating she felt naked. He murmured, “Definitely smarter than my usual type.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He gave her a lopsided smile, very faint, and even more faintly said, “Life is so short, mystery girl. And people like you so few and far between. Perhaps in another lifetime…”
From behind them came the sound of a throat being cleared. Corbin said, “Pardon, sir, but there’s a phone call from the Earl of Sommerley. I told him you wouldn’t want to be disturbed, but he said it was urgent.”
“The…the Earl of Sommerley?”
Christian exhaled a breath and closed his eyes. “My brother.” He opened his eyes, looked at her lips, and slowly traced his thumb across her mouth. He exhaled again and pulled away.
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I have to take the call. This won’t take but a moment.”
He turned to leave, then stopped and pinned her with a burning look. “Don’t run away,” he commanded, and she wanted to laugh.
As if she could run with these rubber legs he’d left her with.
But she only nodded wordlessly, and watched as he walked swiftly from the room.
“Ten more are confirmed missing from the colony in Manaus,” said Leander brusquely.
Christian’s own, “What is it?” when he picked up had been equally brusque. He and his older brother had never been much for small talk.
“I don’t understand—how the hell are they getting out? I thought the entire colony was on lockdown?”
“They are. But someone is helping them get out, assisting them with passage, arranging the entire damn thing. Probably someone on the inside. We don’t know who yet, but one thing we know for sure: we’ve got to stop the bleeding.”
“If they make it to Barcelona—”
“Not if, Christian. When. The six who deserted the colony in Bhakthapur are already there.”
“How do we know?”
“One of them made a phone call to his mother. Said he’d arrived safely. Said they should come, too. It was better there. So much more freedom.”
“Shit,” hissed Christian.
To which Leander wryly responded, “Precisely.”
“Can we track the call?”
