Dark Alpha (ALPHA 2) (8 page)

“I’m sorry about that.” Lucien’s regret sounded genuine. “In that case,” he continued briskly, “it looks as if I’m going to have to be the one to feed you.”

Could that be what he had meant earlier, about what she ‘needed’? When Nicky had thought—

Her cheeks blazed with color. “I’m not a charity case—”
 

“And I’m not offering you charity. Damn it, Nicky, have you taken a good look at yourself in a mirror recently?” Lucien snapped his impatience.

“I’m well aware of how I look, thank you,” she snapped. She knew she was the thinnest she’d ever been, and that it didn’t suit her. “What is it, Lucien, don’t you find me fuckable anymore?”

He stilled. “Is that the reason you’ve lost weight?”

“Don’t be such a damned egotist, Lucien!” Nicky eyed him impatiently. “The whole world doesn’t revolve around Lucien Wynter, you know, no matter how much you might wish that it did.”

He eyed her curiously. “Is that what you think of me? That I want to control the world?”

“I think you want to control
your
world. And everything in it!”

“I already control my world and everything in it, Nicky,” Lucien dismissed hardly.

He was right, he did control his world, Nicky accepted heavily, and right now he could quite easily control her; with her defenses so low, that cocoon Lucien kept between himself and the rest of the world sounded like a very tempting proposition. “That’s still no reason for you to be insulting because I’ve lost a few pounds in weight.”

“I beg to differ.” Lucien’s anger seemed barely contained as he unfastened the cuffs of his shirt and folded them neatly back to just below his elbows.

Nicky’s eyes widened as she saw Lucien had now revealed what looked to be tribal tattoos, trailing up from both wrists and forearms before disappearing beneath the turned-back cuffs of his shirt.

Did those tattoos go up the rest of his arm, possibly across his back or chest? Or both?

Tattoos that seemed completely at odds with the sophisticated businessman, who wore designer label clothes and ate in exclusive restaurants.

Who was this man?

Where did he come from?

More importantly, who or what had he once been, for him to have those tattoos on his body?

Lucien looked up from mixing the ingredients in a bowl at Nicky’s continued—and unusual—silence, his mouth twisting as he saw her gaze was fixed on the ink on his arms. Tattoos he’d had for so long he’d forgotten they were even there. “I was once a very bad boy,” he volunteered challengingly.

The slender column of her throat moved as she swallowed.

Drawing Lucien’s attention to that gold locket she still wore about her throat. Obviously
someone
who cared about her, and whom she cared about, had given it to her, or she wouldn’t wear it all the time.

Was he actually
jealous
of that nameless, faceless person?

Of course he wasn’t. He just wanted to see Nicky wearing diamonds. Nothing else, just diamonds.

She gave a snort. “I very much doubt it was just the once.”

Lucien grinned his appreciation of Nicky’s attempt to infuse some of her usual sarcasm into the conversation. She failed, of course, but no doubt she would be restored to her usual lippy self once she’d had something to eat.

“Probably not,” he conceded dryly. “Now sit,” he added grimly. “And after you’ve eaten—just to prove that your loss of weight hasn’t affected my desire for you in the slightest—we’re going to discuss the details of our arrangement.”

Nicky had been on the point of sitting—she really was too weary, and hungry, to keep fighting Lucien all the time—but she straightened up once again at his last comment. “I didn’t come here for that.” She frowned.

“Oh I think you did, Nicky,” he assured softly as he put down the bowl and stalked purposefully towards her. “I believe that’s exactly what you came here for.”

Had she?

Were her defenses really so low that she just wanted to let Lucien take over, if only for a short time?

She knew they were.

But having seen Lucien again, spent time with him, she had also realized she wasn’t yet ready to concede that fact.

She took a step back. “I’m only here because I saw the newspaper yesterday. The announcement of Lionel Jenkins’ retirement, and your company’s takeover of Jenkins, Simmons and Simmons, and I—I wanted to thank you.”

“Liar.” Lucien’s hands moved up to cup either side of her face.

Deep inside her, wasn’t this what she had longed to have happen? Because she was tired of running, of hiding, of always having to look over her shoulder, as she had been doing again constantly as of late?

On some levels Lucien frightened her—his need to possess, to own her. But that other part of her, the part that was tired of running and hiding,
wanted
him to possess and own her. To be able, if only for the little while she held his interest, to feel safe.

She looked up at Lucien. “Have you been having me followed since I came to your office five days ago?”

His expression darkened, his eyes becoming stormy. “What?”

Nicky shrugged; she didn’t have to tell him about that feeling she’d had that someone had been in her apartment, but... “I’ve had this—it’s felt as if someone was watching me when I go out these past few days. I wondered if it was you. Or, at least,” she smiled self-derisively, “someone you had instructed to watch me? Maybe the man with the scar?”

His brows rose. “My cousin, Dair Grayson?”

Her eyes widened as she realized this was the first piece of personal information Lucien had given her about himself. Although it made a sort of sense that the man with the scar was Lucien’s cousin; Dair Grayson was just as scary, if not more, as Lucien.

Lucien looked down at Nicky, frowning, knowing by the darkness of her eyes, and that pallor to her cheeks, that she was completely in earnest.

And he couldn’t deny it had occurred to him to have Nicky watched, but for her own protection rather than anything else; Lionel Jenkins may have been thoroughly routed, but the other man hadn’t gone as quietly as yesterday’s newspaper reports had implied he had.

Damn it, Lucien should have thought less about fucking Nicky and more about ensuring her safety. Something he definitely intended on doing after she left here today.

If she left here today...

Chapter 5

“Have you actually seen anyone watching or following you, or just felt as if they were?”

Nicky blinked, having been held totally mesmerized by Lucien’s piercing eyes looking down so intently into her own. “Maybe I was just imagining it,” she dismissed, feeling a little foolish now for having mentioned it at all.

Of course Lucien wouldn’t have had her followed; he wanted to go to bed with her, he wasn’t in the least interested in what went on in the rest of her life. Although she had a feeling exclusivity would definitely be part of any ‘arrangement’ he wanted to discuss with her.

She swallowed, her voice husky. “I’m obviously just being silly,” she dismissed ruefully. “Lack of food probably. Which reminds me, I thought you were going to feed me?” she added lightly to change the subject from one that had made him look so grim.

“I am.” Lucien nodded. “But first I need to do this...” His breath was warm against her skin as he lowered his head, lips grazing her cheek before they claimed hers.

Incredible as it seemed, after some of the intimacies they had already shared, this was the very first time that Lucien had kissed her.

Nicky’s knees almost buckled as those chiseled lips took complete possession of hers, heat suffusing her body at the raw hunger of that kiss as Lucien’s mouth devoured hers, teeth nibbling, biting, sucking her bottom lip into the heat of his mouth as his tongue stroked the sensitive inner flesh before piercing, claiming, as he thrust that tongue deeper still.

Lucien didn’t touch her in any other way but with those hands cupped about her cheeks and his mouth totally possessing hers. He didn’t need to. Nicky was his, with just that one hot and devouring kiss.

And he knew it too, damn him.

That knowledge was there in the way his kiss became slow and sensuous, a leisurely exploration rather than a claiming, even as the hardness against her thighs told her all too clearly that he was as aroused as she was.

Nicky’s breasts ached, nipples engorged, between her thighs achingly hot and slick, her panties damp and becoming damper by the second, her clit a swollen throb.

She reached out and grasped hold of Lucien’s shirt front to stop herself from falling when he finally ended the kiss, his forehead damp as it rested against hers, his heart pounding rapidly beneath the palm of her hand, the hard length of his arousal pressing demandingly against her softness.

Nicky ran her tongue moistly over her now swollen lips. “Why did you do it?”

“He touched you.” Lucien didn’t even pretend not to understand her question was about Lionel Jenkins.

She gave a slow shake of her head. “That isn’t a good enough reason.”

“It is to me,” he assured grimly.

“Lucien—”
 

“Just sit down.” He untangled her fingers from his shirt front before taking both her hands in his to lower her down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “You need to eat more than you need to do anything else right now.”

Nicky’s eyes were dark and haunted in the pallor of her face as she looked up at him. “You bought the man’s company, and then forced him into an early retirement, because he
touched
me?”

“After I had told him exactly why I was doing it, yes,” Lucien nodded grimly, realizing on reflection that although it might have given him a lot of satisfaction at the time, it may not have been the wisest thing for him to have done if Nicky was right about being followed and watched.

Something he intended on asking Dair to look into immediately. As well as instructing his cousin that from now on Nicky was to be watched and protected at all times.

“Why?”

His mouth tightened as he moved to turn on the stove in readiness for cooking Nicky’s omelet. “I don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours.”

Lucien glanced at her over his shoulder. “Aren’t you?”

She gave a weary shake of her head. “I really don’t know anymore...” Nicky was tired of fighting Lucien. Of fighting herself. Of fighting
for
herself.

“You will,” he assured purposefully as he concentrated on cooking.

Nicky was feeling too dizzy, both from the mouthwatering smell of the omelet cooking and the sheer male presence of the man doing the cooking, to fight him right now.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” A frown creased her brow as Lucien placed the plate of steaming-hot food in front of her just minutes later.

Lucien leaned forward over the table as one of his hands cupped beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards his. “Never mistake practicality for kindness, Nicky,” he advised harshly. “I intend on being inside you very soon, and for that to happen you’re going to need all your strength. It’s simple logic.”

Nicky tried not to flinch as she looked up at him searchingly; his eyes were so cold and hard as he looked down at her, a mocking tilt to the mouth that minutes ago had devoured hers with such intensity.

She could see all of that at a glance, and still she wanted him.

Lucien’s fingers tightened briefly before he released her abruptly and straightened. “Eat the damn omelet before it goes cold,” he grated roughly as he turned away.

Nicky indulged herself for several minutes, watching the broad, uncompromising width of Lucien’s back, enjoying the play of muscles in his shoulders as he made a pot of coffee.

Was Lucien really as cold and unfeeling as he wanted her to believe he was?

Where and when had he gotten those tattoos? And why had he? Didn’t tribal tattoos like that belong to members of gangs? As a statement of who and what they were?

If so, then who had Lucien Wynter once been?

Because the man he was now, so obviously rich and powerful, a man who surrounded himself with every comfort, and beautiful things, would never have chosen to have those tattoos—

“If I don’t hear you start eating in the next few seconds,” Lucien warned harshly without turning from his task, “then I’m going straight to the fucking.”

Nicky began to eat, not because she was averse to ‘the fucking’, but because she knew he was right; she simply didn’t have enough physical strength right now to withstand the depth of Lucien’s physical demands.

“Not an altogether flattering response,” he drawled as he turned to lean back against one of the kitchen units, arms folded across his chest as he regarded her mockingly. “Even if it did have the desired effect.”

For once Nicky was too distracted, with devouring and enjoying the delicious omelet, to bother arguing with him.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten anything but cold cereal, a week ago maybe, and she hadn’t eaten anything at all since yesterday.

She devoured everything Lucien placed in front of her, including a plate of toast and several cups of coffee. Finally, when all the plates were emptied, she sat back replete.