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She had fought to put that night behind her, to eradicate the fear from her life and from her nightmares. It was impossible, though. That night had become so imprinted on her brain that she couldn’t seem to shake the memories.
And she sincerely doubted anything or anyone would change Holden’s mind short of a bullet. Perhaps even death itself. He wouldn’t allow anyone, man or Breed, to stand between him and anything or anyone he decided he wanted. And he had decided not only did he want Isabelle, but he would have her. Whether she wanted him or not.
A shudder raced up her spine at the thought.
At the same time, the Breed’s gaze was suddenly locked with hers once again, unblinking, his dark eyes glittering dangerously. He watched her intently, his nostrils flared, his whole demeanor appearing on guard, as though he perceived some threat.
Isabelle could feel her mouth drying, nervous excitement and a hint of fear lacing the arousal she couldn’t seem to help.
She wished she knew more about the Breeds. Knew more about their strengths, or even their weaknesses. Amazingly, facts were sketchy, though the rumors were incredibly numerous.
Could he really smell her arousal?
Could he smell fear?
Did she care?
She licked her lips again. She had always held back where men were concerned, always refused to make the first move. She was still a virgin, determined to wait for the one man who would make the waiting worth it. In this case, the Breed she couldn’t resist. She had a feeling this Breed wouldn’t make that first move, though. Not with her. There was something in the air between them that assured her he would never allow her to hide from the fact that he was what she wanted. She would be woman enough to give an invitation that neither he nor anyone watching could mistake. If she wanted him, she would have to be woman enough to prove it.
Was she woman enough?
A part of her was screaming, “Hell yes,” while another part was screaming, “No way in hell.”
While her head and her heart were arguing over whether or not she was brave enough, the woman took up the challenge and went for it. She stood from her chair.
“Umm, this isn’t good, Chelsea, maybe we should leave,” she heard Liza mutter, an edge of something that may have been fear sharpening her voice. She ignored the other girl’s comment and instead began moving across the room.
She felt drawn by him.
Mesmerized by that dark gaze and becoming a person she didn’t wholly recognize. The woman she had always fantasized about being.
Independent. Free. A woman facing the most dangerous adventure of her life. One that could leave her either eternally whole, or forever heartbroken.
She had always told her father she would know the second she met the man she wanted to give her heart to. That knowing him would never be the problem.
Holding him would be another story.
And Isabelle knew that several of her friends had thought they could hold on to one of the rapturously, sexually experienced males science had created, only to end up with a broken heart.
Having a future with a Breed wouldn’t be the easiest job a woman could take on. Or the easiest challenge. Falling in love with one could be termed the height of idiocy. In that second, Isabelle knew her heart was now on the line as well. If she hadn’t already lost it. Not that she had ever believed in love at first sight before. She wasn’t certain she believed in it now. But she knew a part of her would grieve for a lifetime when this Breed walked out of her life.
“Isabelle,” Chelsea hissed behind her. “Sweetie, I think we better go.”
Isabelle ignored her. Her sister didn’t seem panicked, just worried. Worried was okay.
She felt as though she were gliding across the bar, held by his gaze, so fascinated, so intent on the man watching her that she could barely breathe.
She was instinct. She was living every fantasy she had ever had in that moment. Stepping to him, her gaze still captured, her senses narrowed to this one moment, Isabelle reach for the broad, masculine fingers that held the glass.
She didn’t take the glass from him.
Using her fingers, she urged the glass to her lips and he complied easily. Tucking the edge of it at her lips, he lifted it slowly until the icy liquid was touching her tongue, burning across her senses as she took a slow, sensual drink of the fiery liquor.
As he pulled back, she licked her lips slowly, realizing he had placed the exact spot his own lips had touched to hers.
“You’re living dangerously,” he murmured as her heart raced out of control, barreled into her chest then broke off to rush through her senses and overwhelm them.
“Prove it.”
