Any Way You Want It (11 page)

“Are you leaving?”

M aggie nodded. “Yeah. It’s getting late.”

“No, it’s not. The party’s just getting started.”

She jumped as he grabbed her waist, pulling her tight against him. She struggled slightly, then realized she wasn’t going to easily break his strong hold. Suddenly she realized the boy she’d considered a teddy bear was more like a grizzly. Apprehension snaked up her spine.

“Come on, Maggie, let’s dance.” Mark’s words were slurred and she smelled the beer on his breath.

She pushed at his chest. “You know, Mark, I really am tired.”

“One dance.” From the way his hand was squeezing her bottom, she didn’t think dancing was at all what he had in mind.

She squirmed, trying to slip out of his hold, but that only made him grip her tighter. Tight enough that her ribs ached. But it wasn’t pain that made her panicked. No, it was what he was shoving up against her. The distinct hardness of his erection poked against her belly.

“I’ve been watching you all night. And I’ve got to say you are the prettiest little thing in this place.”

Maggie blinked. She would have thought hearing a man say those words would have made her feel good, but given her current position, she just felt sickened. And nervous.

“Mark,” she said slowly, trying to reason with him. “I’m flattered, but I think—”

Before she could finish, his head came down and his mouth covered hers. Wetness and the stale, sour tang of beer filled her mouth. His teeth ground against her lips, rough, painful.

She turned her head, breaking the disgusting kiss, and shoved at his chest, but couldn’t get any leverage.

“Let her go.”

Ren’s voice echoed all around Maggie, and it took her disoriented and appalled brain a moment to realize that he’d said the words over the microphone.

She struggled against Mark’s hold to look over her shoulder at Ren. He stood on the stage, glaring down at them. Although his hard stare wasn’t directed at her, but at Mark.

Mark hadn’t noticed the command at all. He still gripped Maggie tight, tight enough that she couldn’t pull in a full breath. She struggled against his grasp, panic rising.

“Let her go,” Ren repeated, and this time his words did capture Mark’s attention, because they weren’t being said over the music. The band had stopped playing, and now they all glared down at him.

Mark frowned up at Ren, blinking. “Mind your own business, buddy.”

“I am,” Ren said, his voice calm but hard. “Let her go.”

Maggie attempted to use Mark’s distraction to escape, again shoving at his chest, but despite his obvious drunkenness, he was quick. Quick and strong. She was pinned against him, his fingers digging into her rib cage. She made a small gasp, pain shooting from her ribs.

Discordant reverberations pierced the air as Ren threw down the microphone and jumped off the stage. He was instantly at Maggie’s side, moving so fast through the crowd that she barely registered his movement.

He was just suddenly there. And he was furious.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Ren growled. “She’s mine.”

Obviously the speed of his movement unnerved Mark as well, because he loosened his grip on her waist. Despite Maggie’s shock at Ren’s possessive words, she used Mark’s stunned reaction to jerk free, stumbling backwards away from him.

Ren took a step closer to her, his gaze darting to her, just long enough for Mark to lunge forward and throw a punch.

His fist caught Ren in the cheek.

Maggie screamed, but Ren barely seemed to notice the powerful blow, and caught Mark with a right to the stomach. Mark stumbled backwards but managed to keep his footing, then charged forward again. This time he missed Ren completely.

Ren landed a fist directly in Mark’s face. Blood spurted from Mark’s nose, and he staggered as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was or what had happened. He stumbled backwards, leaning heavily on a table.

Two other college students, apparently Mark’s friends, approached him. They didn’t even cast a look in Ren’s direction as they gathered up their bloodied friend and half carried, half dragged him from the bar. Going by their apathetic reactions, this wasn’t an uncommon end to the night for them or Mark.

Ren followed them to the door, watching them disappear into the crowds on Bourbon. Then he turned back to Maggie, striding towards her. He absently pushed his tangled hair away from his face as his eyes roamed over her.

“Did he hurt you?”

Maggie shook her head, fighting the urge to rub a hand over her mouth. “No. I’m fine.”

Instead she reached out and touched his cheek. A purplish bruise was appearing on his cheekbone. “But he hurt you.”

He caught her hand, pressing her fingers to his cheek. “I’m fine too.” Then he moved her hand away, releasing it.

She stared at him, not finding any words. Finally she offered him a small smile and admitted, “I don’t know what to say. This is kind of out of my sphere of knowledge. What’s the appropriate thing to say or do when a person gets in a fistfight for you?”

Ren stared at her for a moment, then a lopsided smile touched his lips. “I think you say thanks, then you throw yourself into said person’s arms.”

Maggie laughed. But she moved toward him, putting her arms around his neck, hugging him. His arms came around her, pulling her close. Maggie breathed in the clean scent of his hair, loving the solid feel of his body against hers.

“And,” he said, his lips close to her ear, his breath warm, “I think you kiss said person’s poor battered face.”

She pulled back slightly, offering him another small smile. “Really? Even if they ignored you all night?”

Ren pretended to consider that. Then he nodded decisively. “In this case, yeah, I think so.”

She smiled. Then surprising even herself with her boldness, she pressed a light kiss onto his bruised cheek. But before she could press more than one to the battered flesh, Ren turned his head and caught her mouth with his. Then there was nothing light about the touch.

His hand cupped the back of her head as he moved his lips over hers. Deep, devouring. Maggie moaned, her arms tightening around him. They remained that way, lost in their own desire for each other, until finally the strains of what the band was playing permeated both their minds.

Slow, drum-heavy chic-a-boom-type music, the kind used for a striptease.

Ren pulled back from Maggie without totally releasing her, so he could glare up at his bandmates.

They all grinned back like naughty schoolboys.

Ren shook his head, then turned back to Maggie. “So should we stop pretending to ignore each other?”

Maggie smiled, pleased he’d admitted that he’d just been pretending.

“I wasn’t pretending to ignore you,” she pointed out. Then added, “Not tonight anyway.”

That made Ren grin. Maggie’s heart, which was already soaring like a particularly daring trapeze artist, did another midair flip.

“So are you going to go out with me after I get off work?”

It was Maggie’s turn to pretend to consider the idea. “Okay.”

Ren swooped in and stole another kiss, then he strode back to the stage.

But before he could reach the steps, the guitarist with the goatee called down to him. “Dude, you’re actually coming back to work after all that? And with her waiting for you?”

The musician cast a wide-eyed look of disbelief at Maggie. Maggie laughed at his exaggerated expression.

The guitar player turned his comical look back on Ren. “She’s waiting to thank you,” he said pointedly. Then he shrugged, as if to say the choice was up to Ren, but he added, “I’m just sayin’.”

Ren laughed, glancing between Maggie and the stage. Then his eyes returned to Maggie. He still grinned, but Maggie could see his decision was made.

He walked back over to her. “Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” She wanted to leave with him, but she also didn’t want him to get in trouble over her. He already sported a bruised cheek for her, and the bar still hadn’t recovered from the spectacle. People stood in groups watching them.

Then the band started to play, the bass player already at the mic, getting ready to sing.

“It’s fine.” Ren caught her hand. He directed her to the door.

“Where are we going?” she asked, not really caring as long as she got to be with him.

Ren slowed his pace. “We could go get a drink, or something to eat, if you like.”

Maggie deliberated. Now that she’d made up her mind that she wanted him—well, she didn’t know if she should wait. Part of her was worried the same fears she’d had last night might return, and she didn’t want that.

“Can we go to your place?”

Ren wasn’t quite sure what he expected, but it hadn’t been that. After last night, he knew her words were downright brazen for her. He was stunned.

In a good way.

He was also stunned at how quickly he was giving up his own plan to leave Maggie alone. To let her go her merry way, while he stayed right where he was. But when he’d seen that guy’s hands all over her, his mouth on hers, he’d snapped. He wanted to kill the bastard. Suck out all of his energy until he was a lifeless shell.

He’d managed not to go that far. But he’d wanted to, and that was unusual. Normally, he didn’t lose control of himself, or his hunger. Sexually or preternaturally. He wasn’t doing well on either count with Maggie.

So much for being gallant. Nobility had lost out to possessiveness and fury. Well, he’d never quite fit the bill for nobility anyway.

But he had to admit, while his lack of gallantry didn’t surprise him, his possessiveness did. He’d like to say his reaction had been based on the fact that Maggie clearly didn’t want the stupid giant touching her. And that did factor in, to be sure, but he knew that he’d have been even angrier if she had actually liked the guy.

Truth be told, he’d been so jealous he wouldn’t be shocked if his eyes were permanently jade green. And jealousy was a new sensation for him. Normally, women were easy come, easy go. In every sense of the phrase. They were replaceable. All the same, all predictable.

Maggie was none of those things.

Of course, he hadn’t always had this cavalier attitude about women. He hadn’t wanted Nancy or Annalise to be replaceable either. But he’d had to learn not to get attached to women. Because of those two ladies.

He couldn’t let himself get attached to this one either. Her life depended on that. He needed to remember that, when he was feeling possessive or jealous. He needed to try to be noble.

She walked beside him now, not speaking, her intelligent green eyes taking in the many sights of Bourbon. Sometimes she smiled, like when a group of college boys staggered by arm in arm singing the theme to Cheers. Then her smile turned to intrigued confusion as she watched a transvestite strike provocative poses outside one of the drag clubs.

He found her amazement at all the oddities of Bourbon fascinating to watch. It also made him realize he should walk away—she wasn’t suited to what he had to offer. He was one of the oddities.

But the thing that made her vulnerable and dangerous at the same time, her pure aura, was the very thing that made his body go haywire. That alone was dangerous. His lampir side craved her life force. Her energy called out to him, and while he could control himself, especially when surrounded by so many other human life forces, he wanted some of her energy for himself. And then there was the purely male part of him, who wanted her body for himself, too.

Wanting a woman, body and soul. Definitely dangerous.

Tell her that you aren’t interested. Tell her now, because if you take her back to your place, you won’t be able to let her go without being with her.

He told himself the same words over and over, but they never reached his lips.

He was too greedy. Too hungry for her.

Maggie touched his arm, startling him out of his thoughts. She pointed toward a man wearing nothing but Mardi Gras beads, woven into a thong. Sort of.

Ren shook his head. “Another reason not to allow those damned beads to be thrown except on Mardi Gras.”

Maggie laughed, glancing over her shoulder to watch the nearly nude man pass.

Another wave of jealousy washed over him—not quite as intense as when that jackass frat boy had been touching her, but still, it was there. Jealous over a man who thought it was a good idea to wander around New Orleans in nothing but green, purple, and gold beads—that was pathetic.

But more than that, the jealousy was a very real concern. He had no idea what to do with jealousy. It was a new emotion for him. He never even felt it over Annalise or Nancy—the only two women he ever felt any real emotion for. He needed to find the strength to do the right thing.

He couldn’t bring Maggie back to his place.

“You know, I’m actually kind of hungry.”

Which was true—but not for food. His eyes darted down her body. She wore a blouse that crisscrossed over her chest, creating a V of pale skin, showing just the slightest swell of her full breasts. Sweetly sexy, if there was such a thing.

He couldn’t be alone with her and not touch her. And he couldn’t allow that.

“Okay,” she said easily, seeming almost relieved that he’d pushed the idea. “What are you in the mood for?”

As if of their own volition, his eyes moved down her body, and this time she noticed his look. Her cheeks colored, but she didn’t look away from him.

She was definitely different tonight. More confident. Strange, since he spent most of the night acting as if he hadn’t noticed her, which he would have thought would upset her, make her unsure. And then he’d gone to the other extreme, getting in a fistfight, and declaring her his. A point he was glad she hadn’t asked about. How would he explain that declaration?

He pointed down Toulouse Street. “There’s a good place down this way. Great Creole cooking.”

“That sounds good,” she said, falling into step with him.

Because of the time, they didn’t have to wait for a table.

“Why did you come back tonight?” he asked after they ordered drinks—she, an iced tea; he, a bourbon, straight up. He immediately wondered why he asked. He didn’t want to know that. But it was too late, the inquiry was out.