Edge of Darkness (5 page)

A half-naked woman with her entire body painted gold shoved past her with a laugh, dripping red feathers from an elaborate headdress. A man in a yellow dragonfly outfit followed her, weaving drunkenly, his green wings listing dangerously to one side, perilously close to sliding off his back. The scents of perfume, wine, and smoke from the fireworks hung heavy in the air; even at midnight the crowds had not thinned. The streets were a riot of noise, color, and motion, and Ember felt pleasantly invisible among the chaos, able to drift through and just watch. The smaller side streets of the neighborhood were closed to everything but foot traffic, so she made her way through the throngs toward one of the main thoroughfares, still open to cars. She hoped to catch a taxi to take her back home; her feet, clad in four-inch heels, were killing her.

She rounded the corner of the
Rambla de Catalunya
and spied a taxi stand next to a little French restaurant. She began to walk toward it with a sigh, anxious to get off her feet, but as soon as she stepped off the curb and into the street, she jolted to an abrupt stop.

Because there, just emerging from the restaurant and striding down the red-carpeted steps toward a sleek black sedan waiting at the curb, was one Christian McLoughlin.

Their eyes met at the exact same moment. Christian felt it in his body like the weightlessness that accompanies the start of a free fall on a rollercoaster, just before the hot rush of euphoria, terror, and heart-pounding glee seizes you and as you tip over the edge you raise both hands in the air, a scream of exhilaration ripping from your throat.

His stomach dropped. His heart clenched. He froze just as she had, and stared at her.

Corbin walked around the rear of the Audi and opened the passenger door for him. When Christian didn’t move, he turned his head to stare in the same direction as his employer, and his whole body jerked.

“Good Lord in heaven. Is this a joke?” Corbin whispered, stunned as Christian was.

But it was no joke. Fate had decided to once again put September Jones directly in Christian’s path. Only this time, Fate had a trick up her sleeve.

Fate was being sly.

Ember, frozen on the street with one stiletto-booted foot in front of the other, her hand stopped halfway to her face, was clad in the most astonishing outfit, something he never would have believed possible had he not seen it with his own eyes.

A cat. She was dressed as a cat.

Complete with a little headband from which sprang two pointed cat’s ears, and a long, curving tail that trailed behind her, tufted at the end. The costume was tight and black and entirely revealing and had it not been for the nature of the costume itself he would have been devouring the sight of slim curves that her usual ensemble of baggy jeans and even baggier sweaters managed to hide completely.

But—a cat? A goddamned
ca
t
?

He’d never been so shocked in his entire life.

She recovered first. She took a few tentative steps forward, then a few more, more confidently. By the time she reached his side of the street and stood looking up at him—
she even drew silver whiskers on her cheeks and blackened the tip of her nose, Jesus Christ
—Christian was in slightly better control of himself, and managed to greet her with a semblance of civility.

“Ember. How nice to see you.”

“Um, you too,” she responded, sounding a little unsure if that were actually true.

Her brown gaze flickered over him, uncomfortably keen, and he hoped she overlooked the pulse throbbing in his temple. He wanted to press his fingers against it, but restrained himself.

“Having dinner?”

“Oh…” Christian glanced back at the restaurant, still feeling as if he’d been hit by something large and heavy. “Yes. It’s my favorite place in the city. Have you ever eaten here?”

Ember wrinkled her nose. Her whiskers twitched with the movement, and he stared at them in utter fascination. “Nope. This is more my stepmother’s speed.”

There was faint distaste in her voice, and he wondered whether it was directed at him or her stepmother.

After a moment’s pause he said, looking over her outfit, “So…been out on the town I see.”

She looked down at herself and blushed. Crossing her arms over her chest, she muttered, “Asher—you met him earlier—we always do Carnaval together. It’s a tradition.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “It’s a nice tradition. Especially when you get to dress up.”

She glanced up at him, saw him smiling, and gave him a tentative smile in return. “It’s my thing. Cats. I volunteer at the shelter on my day off. Asher’s always telling me I’m going to wind up one of those crazy old cat ladies with like two hundred of them in her apartment and no friends so that when I die, it’ll take weeks before someone discovers my dead body and by then the cats will have eaten half of it away.”

Good God
. The thought made the veal fricando he’d had at dinner turn over in his stomach.

Seeing the look on his face, Ember quickly said, “I mean, I don’t have any cats now—my landlord won’t allow pets in the building—I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m some weird collector or something…”

She trailed off, color rising in her cheeks, and Christian felt a sudden, violent urge to touch her face, feel the heat of that pale, almost translucent skin. He stifled it by biting down hard on the inside of his lip and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Well, anyway, it was nice to see you,” she said, stepping back. “If you still want the copy of
Casino Royale
, you know where to find me. Have a good night.”

She turned away but he stopped her with a blurted, “Do you need a ride home?”

Corbin looked at him over her head with raised brows. Yes, he knew it wasn’t a good idea for a million different reasons, but he didn’t like the thought of her wandering around in the dark alone. Wearing
that
.

“Um…well…sure. I guess.” Dubiously, Ember looked at the car. “This is yours?”

He inclined his head and didn’t look at Corbin, whose mouth had pinched to a tight line. He wouldn’t dare contradict Christian aloud, but his expression was proof enough of what he thought of this plan.

“That would be great. If it’s not out of your way. I live in the
Plaça Sant Jaume
.”

“By City Hall, I know the place. It’s not too far.” He gestured to the open door. “After you.”

She hesitated for a moment, sending a surreptitious glance toward Corbin, then shrugged, capitulating but still with that slight uncertainty. She climbed in the back of the Audi and he tried very hard to keep his eyes averted from the incredibly alluring sight of her latex-clad bottom, embellished with that sinuous tail, disappearing into the car.

He followed her in and settled himself but then lifted his backside from the seat when he realized he’d sat on her tail.

“Sorry.” He held the fuzzy tail aloft between his fingers. “This is yours, I believe.”

“Well, it sure isn’t yours,” she quipped and lightly removed it from his hand.

Buckling his safety belt in the driver’s seat, Corbin sputtered a horrified cough that Christian tried to cover by leaning forward and pounding him on his wide shoulder.

“That cold still bothering you, Corbin?” His voice was stern, his gaze full of warning. Their eyes met in the rearview mirror, and Corbin acknowledged the warning with a small, curt nod of his head.

“These things sneak up on you when you’re least expecting them, sir,” he replied. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, though. Thank you for asking.” Then he started the car and concentrated on steering them out into traffic. He didn’t look in the mirror again.

“So…do you always eat so late? It’s past midnight,” Ember said softly from beside him, pulling his thoughts back from a precipice. He turned to look at her, admiring the way light from the passing streetlamps wove strands of bright color into her dark hair, gold and bronze and mahogany glints that flared and faded as the car picked up speed. They were seated close together but not
too
close; the sedan had a spacious interior and the back seat would easily fit three adults. He noticed she’d chosen to sit as close to her door as possible, while he’d taken a spot almost in the middle. He hadn’t done it consciously, but as he looked at her, he was glad he had.

He smelled the clean, warm scent of her skin, the citrusy shampoo she’d used earlier to wash her hair, the chemical smell of her latex costume, the liner she’d used to draw on her whiskers, and the paint she’d used to blacken the tip of her nose. Still she wore no other cosmetics, no lipstick or mascara, and he was glad she didn’t. It made her seem more real to him.

More…bare.

“Usually, yes. I’m a bit of a night person.”

He willed Corbin not to cough. It must have worked, because the man didn’t even flinch.

“Really? I’m a morning person myself. When I first came to live here I couldn’t believe how different it was from home. Breakfast at ten in the morning, lunch at two in the afternoon, a two hour siesta then back to work until eight, dinner practically in the middle of the night.” She shook her head. “I still can’t sleep past six.”

A personal revelation. Her first. Intrigued, he said, “You’re originally from New Mexico, you said. What brought you to Spain?”

She looked down at the tail she still held in one hand and her fingers tightened around it. She swallowed, said in a lowered voice, “Life.” She sat quietly a moment, then glanced up at him. “You? You’re originally from England, correct?’ He inclined his head. “So what brought you to Spain?”

“Life.” Their gazes held. Outside, the night sped by in a blur of color. He watched her face, watched her eyes, large and dark. “It seems to have a way of derailing even the most carefully laid plans, doesn’t it?”

Her face grew somber, a little furrow appeared between her brows. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and turned to look out the window, as if she couldn’t meet his eyes. Her hand rose to touch the gold rings that hung on the delicate chain around her neck, and she twisted them between her fingers, round and round. Staring out into the passing night, she said quietly, “Life is cruel in the same way people are. Casually. Randomly. Indifferently. Sometimes I wonder how anyone survives it at all.”

“Ultimately, we don’t.”

She turned back to look at him just as the car went over a bump in the road, an unseen pothole or crumbled, unrepaired piece of curb that had Corbin cursing and swerving to correct. They were jolted, kicked out of their seats, a nanosecond of weightlessness and then settled again, but they’d both put their hands on the seat between them to steady themselves and realized at exactly the same moment that they were, just barely, touching. Pinky to wrist, their hands met against the leather, and neither one moved away.

They pretended they weren’t touching. They both looked forward, silent, gazing out the windshield, but neither one withdrew. As the blocks passed by it became an almost unbearable agony, the slightest pressure from her hand, the warmth of her skin grazing his, the urge to lean into her, or say something, or do anything, anything at all. But Christian held himself still and felt thankful for the darkness, because he was sure if she looked at him now she would see what was written plainly on his face, and she’d open the door and run.

Hunger. Hunger unfurled inside him, dark, savage, and selfish. And all from a touch of her hand.

Bloody hell. This had epic disaster written all over it in blinking neon letters.

“Just a few blocks more.”

Ember’s voice sounded a little breathless. He tried to block out the sound of her blood rushing through her veins, of her heart pounding in her chest. Her breathing had increased, too, and all the little signs of her reaction to him made the animal inside him hiss in pleasure. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, breathing steadily through his nose.

Then someone darted out into the street directly in front of them, a man in a blue parrot costume waving a neon glow stick and cackling drunkenly. Corbin slammed on the brakes to avoid him. Neither he nor Ember wore seat belts, and he saw her begin to fly forward as if in slow motion, her eyes wide, lips parted in horror.

His reaction was instantaneous. Unthinking. He reached out, grabbed her with both hands, and flung her back against the seat. He landed half on and half off her body, blocking her with his own, one leg braced against the back of the driver’s seat and one thrown over hers, his hands gripping her shoulders, his face inches from hers.

It was awful. It was amazing. It was terribly intimate and awkward and inappropriate, their bodies pressed hard against one another, their legs entangled, but they stayed like that for long, breathless moments, staring at each other with pounding hearts and unblinking eyes, frozen, until the line of cars behind them began to honk, their drivers leaning out the windows to curse in Spanish.

“Sorry, sir,” Corbin huffed, fingers white around the steering wheel. The drunken parrot doddered off, leaving a trail of listing blue feathers in the street behind him. “Everyone all right?”

“Yes,” he whispered, staring into Ember’s eyes, his voice hoarse. He said it again and for some reason it didn’t feel like he was answering Corbin’s question this time. It felt more like an invitation. The answer to a question his body screamed for him to ask.

Yes, say yes, please say yes to me.

The car began to pull forward and Christian was jerked out of his reverie. Suddenly aware of the indecorum of his position and what an ass she must think him for throwing himself on top of her in the most crude, blundering way, he abruptly sat up, released her arms, and retreated to his side of the car.

She let out her breath in a soft expulsion, lifted a shaking hand to her chest.

“Forgive me. I hope I didn’t hurt—”

“No,” she interrupted, still shaking, refusing to look at him. “Please. I’m not hurt. I might have been though, if you hadn’t stopped me. You have…amazing…reflexes.” A tiny little laugh escaped her throat, tinged with what sounded like impending hysteria. He looked over at her sharply. If he didn’t know better, he’d have guessed her in shock. The hand on her chest—her left hand—shook so badly now she curled it to a fist, placed her right hand over it and pressed it against her stomach.