Black Magic Rose (8 page)

A loud crack sounded and the table crashed to the floor. Her notepad slipped out of her hand, and she tumbled downward, landing in a heap, still gripping her pen.
 

“I do not take orders from you!” Rick’s voice bellowed above her.
 

She pulled herself up to her knees and managed to get to her feet, though she’d somehow lost a shoe, torn her skirt, and her stockings had holes in both knees. “Oh, yes you do!” she shouted. “Now get out!” She pointed toward the door. Blue ink stained her hand. The damn pen had snapped in half when she fell.
 

She glanced up and was shocked by what she saw. Rick, the man, no longer stood in front of her. Instead, some sort of combination human-wolf towered over her. He stood on two clawed feet, was covered in fur, and the only thing about his face that resembled the man she’d just been speaking to was the giant scar that parted his fur and rippled when he opened his mouth to growl. He stalked forward, saliva dripping from his mouth.

She dropped the broken pen and stumbled backward, tripping over her shoe and landing on her ass.

Chapter Seven

Dragomir may not have been able to sense her aura, but he could hear her scream. He smashed open the conference room door and leapt between Sofia and Rick. His body tingled, the anticipation of a battle fueling his already burning need for action.
 

Color faded from his vision. Only hues of black and white appeared before him. How easy it was for him to slide into warrior-mode. Not just easy, but comfortable and welcome. He’d been itching for something to do, some excitement since leaving Rome. Finally, a fight.
 

He scanned the room, taking in the state of the situation. Smashed table, ink splatters, one angry werewolf holding a notepad. And Sofia, his charge, sprawled on the floor.
 

Rick growled.
 

Sofia gasped.

Dragomir’s hands flexed around his daggers.
 

Rick shifted his weight and inched closer.
 

Dragomir took a measured step toward the werewolf.
 

Rick lifted the notepad into the air and ripped it down the center, then hurled the halves in opposite directions. Shreds of paper flew about the air. A chair flew at Dragomir, and he batted it away without blinking.
 

Sofia whimpered. The soft, breathy sound drew Dragomir’s attention from the impending fight. He glanced over his shoulder to be sure she wasn’t hurt.
 

She’d fallen on her backside into a disheveled mess, quite the opposite of what she’d looked like not an hour ago. She was missing a shoe. Bruises had formed on both her knees, and a deep red stream of blood ran down her left shin. Blue ink covered her hands and smudged her cheek and the tip of her nose. Long strands of hair had come loose from her bun and floated around her face while the actual bun hung like a ball on the side of her head. Her wide, green eyes stared at the werewolf across the room and her mouth hung open, lips forming a perfect circle.
 

Something within Dragomir twisted. For a split second conflict rose within him. He must decide. Kill the wolf. Help Sofia.
 

What was wrong with him? She was fine. She could get herself up and find her shoe and fix her hair and wash her hands. And face. Her nose. And lips. Of course she could. She didn’t need a warrior to do those things for her. He wasn’t her lady-in-waiting. He was her bodyguard. Her comfort was not his concern. Her safety was his only responsibility.
 

The fact that she was frightened by the big bad wolf was not an issue he needed to contend with. His issue was the angry werewolf standing in front of him. His job was to thwart all attempts by anyone to harm even a single hair on her silly little head.

Dragomir forced his mind back to the fight and struggled to regain his focus. Not until the blue ink blotch on the tip of her nose appeared black was he sure he was focused enough for battle. And though it only took seconds, it felt like hours that he was trapped in some sort of spell. Trapped by her beguiling eyes.
 

He snarled and turned back to Rick in plenty of time to see the razor sharp claw take a swipe at him. He darted to the side and came up behind Rick. Dragomir pulled the wolf backward and wrenched his left arm up behind his back while pressing a knife to his throat.
 

“What is the meaning of this attack on Ms. Engle?” Dragomir demanded.

Rick growled and foolishly attempted to break free of Dragomir’s hold. Dragomir slid the knife along Rick’s neck to the spot two inches from his spine causing a thin line of blood to seep from beneath the fur. Then he drove the knife into Rick’s neck, pinching the scruff into a bunched clump of skin and fur and bringing the wolf down to his knees.
 

Sofia screamed. “No! No! Help!”

Osgar was the first to reach them. “What the hell is going on in here?” He tossed aside half the broken table clearing a path to where Dragomir stood.

“Stop it! Stop him!” Sofia yelled, scrambling to her feet. She ran at Dragomir. “Animal!” She slapped him.
 

Stunned, Dragomir released his knife and stepped back. He stood beside Osgar gaping at Sofia.
 

 
“Help him!” Sofia pointed at Rick’s neck, though she backed away from the werewolf.
 

Rick yanked the knife from his neck and roared, rising to his feet to tower over Sofia, dwarfing her size so that she appeared tiny and utterly fragile beside the wolf.
 

Sofia squeaked. Her mouth dropped open but not another sound escaped.

Dragomir snapped out of the daze she knocked him into and scooped her up, carrying her out of the room and down the hall to the security office. She needed to be removed from the Lower Level. Jankin’s assertion that she’d be safest down here was completely incorrect. The simple fact remained the Lower Level was probably the most dangerous place for her. In less than two hours’ time she’d been attacked twice.
 

“Put me down!” Sofia’s feet thrashed about. She punched Dragomir in the chest and shoulder and wiggled out of his grip, landing on her knees on the floor. “You
are
an animal!” Her voice echoed. “A Neanderthal. Don’t ever, ever pick me up again.” She pulled herself to her feet, clinging to Dragomir’s coat and wincing with each movement. When he reached to help her, she barked, “Don’t touch me.” Then she sidestepped him and marched out the door, hobbling on bruised knees and one shoe.
 

Meg and the other four wolves sitting at the first bank of security screens stared up at him. Meg’s lips twitched, and Dragomir glared. The smile beginning to form on her mouth returned to a perfectly straight line.
 

He spun on his heel and followed the sound of Sofia’s voice back down the hall.
 

“Dr. MacDuff!” Sofia yelled. Her high heel clicked, then her stocking foot thudded. “Dr. MacDuff!”

Dragomir measured the tenor in her voice and knew she was fighting with fear and anger. Her pitch was higher than usual, consistent with any woman on the brink of hysterics, but the hard huff that ended each shout told him wild anger bubbled just below her surface.

“In here,” Jankin called from the conference room.

“It’s unacceptable. Completely unacceptable!” Her voice cracked a few times. And even though she cleared her throat, she could barely contain herself. “Every issue that occurs does not require a physical response.”
 

Dragomir laughed to himself. She could use some self-reflection. Apparently, she had no idea how she was reacting, no concept of her own physical response. She’d hit him three times this evening and ripped his shirt off and her scent didn’t simply waft behind her. It was as though the fragrance of raspberry and that damn flower were being piped into the Lower Level with the intent to suffocate everyone.
 

What is that flower? Peony? No.

“He is an animal!” Sofia stood in front of Jankin, pointing at the doorway where Dragomir stood. He wished she’d calm down. She was turning into a highly potent olfactory weapon. He glanced at the wolves, inspecting for drool, but though they were both focused on her, neither showed any signs of hunger.

“Sofia, Dragomir is a warrior and he is tasked with ensuring your safety—” Jankin began only to be cut off by Sofia.

“I do not need him to ensure my safety. I’m perfectly capable—”

Rick growled.

Dragomir edged closer.
 

Sofia spun to face Rick and Osgar, who had also shifted to his wolf form, a security measure, Dragomir was certain. But it was clear Sofia didn’t understand. She backed straight into Jankin, her mouth hanging open.
 

Dragomir smiled.

“Stop laughing at me!” she snarled at Dragomir, and her display of anger made it nearly impossible for him to remove the smile from his face. She had no idea what she was dealing with. She stepped beside Jankin, keeping the wolves and both vampires in her line of vision. “I just haven’t seen them in this state before. It’s slightly unnerving. That’s all.” Her neck flushed and another burst of florally tangy-sweet berry puffed.
 

“Lass, you are not working with humans anymore.” Jankin placed his hand on her shoulder. “You must alter your perspectives on employee relations. Otherwise, I fear you will be continually frustrated and require a guard to even meet with the staff.”
 

Her eyebrows furrowed, her jaw jutted forward, and she shook her head. Dragomir wasn’t sure if she was more put out by having to change her philosophy, or the threat of having a guard with her more often.

“Even if I change my perspective, there is still way too much violence in this workplace. He…” She jabbed her finger in Dragomir’s direction. “…stabbed a… man for no reason.”

“He attacked you.” Dragomir stood beneath the air vent, hoping to smell something other than her damn scent.
 

She glared at him. “Convenient excuse for you to act out with violence. I don’t want you with me. You’re too quick to resort to physical assaults.”

He nodded. She might not have been wrong about that. He knew full and well he did not worry about silly human concerns. He was a warrior. Warriors could be frightening. He understood her feelings. He’d have much rather been on the front lines, leading troops into battle than in Wooddale, protecting one woman from werewolves who were supposed to be on the same side as her. And he would love for her to convince Jankin to let her have a different guard. Though he knew no one could guard her better than he. He also knew Jankin felt the same.
 

“Sofia, even on the Lower Level with a skilled security team available, myself, Osgar, Fergus, Meg, and half the council, still it was Dragomir who sensed your fear before anyone else.”
 

“With all due respect, Jankin. The woman screamed. The only sense required was the ability to hear.” Dragomir may have been highly skilled, but he was not a liar, and in this matter, one so important to Jankin, he would not mislead or allow anyone to think he was better than he truly was.
 

“I did not scream,” Sofia argued. “Dr. MacDuff, he’s delusional. I’ll admit I was nervous, but I did not scream.”
 

Dragomir shook his head. Typical. How many women had he encountered who pretended to be tough? More than he cared to remember. These were always the most dangerous, always getting themselves into trouble and never admitting their own fault in the matter.

Jankin raised an eyebrow. “Nevertheless, it was Dragomir who responded to your need. He is the best guard for you.” Jankin’s voice remained calm, not even a hint of emotion.

Dragomir had heard this tone before, knew it well, and was surprised to hear Jankin use it now. It was the one he employed when dealing with other masters, other vampires he could not control, in situations requiring extreme diplomacy.
 

“But… I…” she glared at Dragomir, then turned to Jankin. “Why can’t Osgar train me like he does the wolves? Why can’t I learn to defend myself? Then I wouldn’t need a guard at all.”

“Sofia, you could never be a match for any werewolf or vampire.” Jankin glanced down at her. “Even with a bodyguard you’ve managed to be attacked in the building. There is no training in the world that could make you able to compete with the likes of one of us.”

Dragomir had to agree. In fact, he was fairly certain that any amount of knowledge in this area would make her dangerous. She already possessed more confidence than she should. If she had any sense, she’d ask Jankin to send her away to a remote, well-guarded safe haven. She’d go on a lifelong vacation.
 

“I didn’t say I’d be a match, but I’d at the very least know what to expect and have some ability to defend myself, deter an attacker. It can only help, especially if you all insist on becoming violent with every conversation. If I’d known what Jefferson could do, I’d have been better prepared and never been caught in that situation. If I’d known this…” She waved toward the wolves. “…could happen, I’d have…well, I’d have done something.” She rubbed her nose and smudged the ink over her clean cheek.