Shadow's Pleasure: The Shadow Warder Series, Book Two (A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance Series) (12 page)

Sorcha began to protest, but the woman shook her head and said, “Honey, it’s not every day a man like this takes a girl shopping. Let him buy you the clothes.”

Sorcha had kept her mouth shut, but the second they were out of hearing range she spoke up. “I have money, Kiernan. I don’t need you to pay for me.”

“I know you do,” he said, sliding an arm around her.

She was getting used to his casual affection, which was weird. Weird for any empath, but especially for Sorcha, after years of physical isolation.

“Did you bring cash with you?”

“No,” she answered.

“I seriously doubt anyone knows you’re here. But I have a policy not to make stupid mistakes. Especially easily avoided ones. Until this is over, we use cash. If you want to pay me back afterward, you’re more than welcome.”

“That makes sense. How are you so good at shopping?” she asked.

Another grin, this one just for her. “I like women.”

“I picked up on that,” Sorcha said with only a hint of sarcasm.

“Well, yeah, I like women the way you mean. But I also just like women. I was raised by my mother and two sisters until I was seven. We were close. We didn’t have much, but they spoiled me with attention. Then I was on my own, and later I was at the Warder Academy. Warder females are different from the women I was used to. More serious. Cold. When I got out on my own again, I guess I gravitated to human females. I’m not allowed to have real relationships with humans, including friendships, but that doesn’t mean I don’t spend a little time out of bed with the women I date.”

“So you like to take women shopping, then?” She bumped him with her shoulder, letting him know she was kidding. Sorcha didn’t care for the weight in his voice when he’d mentioned his mother and sisters. She didn’t have to be an Oracle to guess something awful had happened. A mother and sisters who spoiled a little boy with love didn’t just abandon him when he was seven years old.

“The right women, yeah.”

He tightened his arm around her and turned her into a high-end lingerie shop with the excuse that she needed underwear to go with the sinfully short dress they’d bought. Smooth. Very smooth.

Browsing through the racks of silk and lace, a sudden attack of shyness drove her to linger behind a display of thongs in a rainbow of colors. Telling herself to grow up, she headed for another underwear display, only to bump into Kiernan as he came around the corner, his hands filled with slippery, transparent fabric. His hazel eyes burned with heat as he took in her blush. Sorcha shivered. Then she hoped he hadn’t noticed. His grin said he probably had.

“I don’t need all this stuff,” she said, backing away. “Just underwear to go with my dress.”

She didn’t even want to think about the dress he’d picked out for her. Sorcha wasn’t normally shy, but she wasn’t used to showing a lot of skin either. The dress Kiernan had selected was like nothing she’d ever worn before. It hadn’t seemed that risqué in the department store, but surrounded by lacy confections designed to seduce a man, the dress took on a whole new meaning.

“Never mind,” Kiernan said, walking past her toward the register at the back of the store. “I already got you the underwear and some other stuff you needed.”

Sorcha’s face flamed. It was hard to tell what he’d picked out, but there was definitely more than one negligee in his hands, as well as what looked like a strappy corset in black satin with buckles and snaps. Wondering where the hell she was supposed to wear the thing, she fell mute with embarrassment and uncertainty. The longer she stared at his selections, the worse it got. His knowing grin didn’t help. Sorcha shook her head and walked out of the store, leaving him to pay.

Why was he buying her this stuff? Did he think he was going to see her in it? Was he expecting Sorcha to sleep with him? Based on his easy manner with women and their reaction to him, she imagined Kiernan only had to express an interest and women tore off their clothes. She hadn’t missed the covetous looks he got from the female shoppers. But other than casual touching, he hadn’t made any kind of move on her. Or was that just part of his game? She wished she had more experience with males like Kiernan.

Sorcha wasn’t going to pretend she wasn’t attracted. He was hot. More than just hot, he was beautiful. Kind. Protective. Smart. She could go on. And on. But she’d never been comfortable with casual sex. It was an empath thing. Touch could be dicey. In the unguarded intimacy of sex, emotions leaked through. With Sorcha’s talent for going deep into a mind, she sometimes caught snippets of thoughts she didn’t want to hear. During sex? It could be a recipe for disaster. And had been.

At forty-seven, she’d had a handful of carefully chosen lovers. All gentle, friendly Shadow males. Not alphas. And for all his easy charm and friendly manner, Kiernan was an alpha male all the way. So far, he’d been good about listening to her, letting her have her say and respecting her opinions. But he wasn’t letting her lead. And Sorcha knew if she didn’t keep pushing to be treated like an equal, Kiernan would roll right over her, that killer smile leading the way.

If she was completely honest with herself, Sorcha thought as she watched Kiernan charm the saleswoman at the lingerie shop, he was way out of her league. Not only was she not into casual sex—and he’d openly said he didn’t have any other kind—but he outmatched her so much in terms of experience, it wasn’t funny. If she was going to get back in the saddle after a decade alone, she should start with someone a little more basic than Kiernan.

Not to mention, aside from making a few comments that said he appreciated the way she looked and buying her sexy underwear, he hadn’t made an overt move. It was very possible he wasn’t even interested. And their current situation did not need sex thrown into the mix. In fact, getting sexually involved was a terrible idea. At the moment, they had a good thing going. She and Kiernan were friendly. They respected each other. So far, they were working well together. Messing that up with sex would be monumentally stupid.

Except for one thing—Sorcha still couldn’t read Kiernan. Surface emotions, sure. But even humans could read surface emotions. Sorcha’s problem had always been with deeper thoughts leaking through. More than most empaths, she had to be extra careful with touching. Proximity alone could let thoughts in. Physical contact amplified the problem. When the surge had increased her strength, it had gotten worse. Her new shield was doing its job as long as she didn’t touch anyone, but that morning, their waitress had brushed against her hand and Sorcha had seen into the woman in a flash. Husband cheating on her, she drank too much, a teenage son who’d run away. Dark, ugly pools of resentment and guilt welling up inside. Sorcha had handled touching Madoc, but she’d had to focus on reinforcing her shield when they’d shaken hands. Nothing had leaked through during the tattooing because the waves of agony had swamped her empathy.

Yet when Kiernan touched her, all she felt was that curious, spreading warmth. And strength. The heat he gave off felt as if it was reinforcing her shield, filling in tiny gaps, making it impenetrable. A crazy thought. But there was no denying that even when she tried to get into his head, she got nothing. If she went to bed with him, she could let go of her anxieties and just enjoy herself. Or rather, she could worry about the stuff normal women worried about, like if she was doing it right, or if he was enjoying himself. She wouldn’t have to worry that she’d get flashes of him imagining a centerfold, or picturing her with another woman—both of which had happened to her before. What would it be like to just enjoy herself during sex? To let her guard down?

He had to be good in bed. Not only had he admitted to liking women, he was attentive and affectionate. Both qualities meant he’d probably be a good lover. A lot of men who looked like him were terrible in bed. She had her own limited experience, added to that of her friends, to tell her that most guys used to so much female attention sat back and expected the woman to take care of them.

As Kiernan used a light touch on her waist to guide her through the parking garage, Sorcha knew he wasn’t one of those men. Getting in the car, she decided she’d leave her options open. See what happened. She wasn’t going to initiate anything, but if Kiernan did, she’d decide then what she wanted to do.

Distracted by thoughts of sex with Kiernan, Sorcha didn’t notice where they were going until they pulled into a parking space on the street. She followed Kiernan across the street into the lobby of an attractive condo building. The desk in the lobby was empty, saving them the trouble of inventing a reason for access to the residential floors. Sorcha wasn’t clear on why they were there, but she knew they wouldn’t be welcome.

One quick elevator ride later, Sorcha stood in the hallway keeping watch with a nervous eye, her back to Kiernan. Breaking and entering wasn’t on her list of normal activities. Kiernan had assured her it was no big deal, and even said he’d picked this lock before. Not the most reassuring bit of information she’d received. In truth, his friend Conner fit her image of a Warder soldier more than Kiernan did. While many Shadows thought of the Warders as little more than animals, as violent and single-minded as the demons they hunted, Sorcha had spent enough time in the field to know that wasn’t true. She hadn’t interacted directly with a Warder before, but she’d seen one or two from a distance. Close enough to see they were highly organized and skilled soldiers.

Conner and his Boy Scout reputation fit her image of a Warder soldier. Kiernan, with his questionable acquaintances and well-worn set of lock picks, not so much. A hum of triumph and the lock clicked open. Smoothly, Kiernan threw it wide and gestured for her to enter. With only a moment of hesitation, Sorcha walked into the stranger’s condo.

“We shouldn’t have to wait long,” Kiernan said. “Make yourself comfortable.” Following his own suggestion, Kiernan sat on the couch stretching his legs in front of him, head tipped back, his eyes closed.

Sorcha scowled at him. They’d just broken into the place and he looked like he was ready to unwind after a long day, while she was hoping the owner wasn’t going to call the police. Shaking her head, Sorcha sat across from him and tried to ignore her tension. Minutes stretched, making it harder and harder to stay calm. Finally, the metallic scrape of a key in the lock cut into the silence, sending her heartbeat racing. The handle turned and Sorcha braced.

Chapter Seven

The door swung open, pushed by a trim, black leather briefcase. Behind it, a slight figure angled in through the opening, balancing several grocery bags and a stack of shifting mail. If the kitchen had been a few steps farther from the door, the woman might have had a mess at her feet. Instead, she slid the bags, mail, and her keys onto the granite countertop, turning to place her briefcase beside them. Her gaze slid over Sorcha and Kiernan sitting in her living room. A beat later, when her distracted brain caught up, she started and swore.

“Fucking son of a bitch,” she said, the harsh works incongruous coming from the refined, stylish figure. The female was small, petite in a compact way that suggested strength and grace despite her size. Pale blond hair tightly restrained in a smooth bun and understated pearl and diamond earrings with a matching necklace half hidden beneath her silk blouse. In a charcoal wool suit—cut so perfectly Sorcha suspected it had been custom made—she looked like a very expensive attorney. Not a Warder. At least, she didn’t remind Sorcha at all of Conner or Kiernan. Kiernan had said she was their handler, his tone indicating he didn’t like her much. The elegant handler seemed to return his feeling. Waves of aggravation rolled off her small frame. It seemed Kiernan hadn’t charmed every female on earth.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Waiting for you,” Kiernan answered in a tone that suggested he thought it a stupid question. Needling her. Sorcha wondered if that was wise, considering they’d broken into the Warder’s home. He’d told Sorcha to read her emotions, but otherwise play dumb. So far, Sorcha was getting an overwhelming sense of annoyance and dislike, but she could have read that right off the Warder’s face.

“Next time, try my office.” The Warder began unloading the grocery bags, her back to Kiernan. Trying to act like she didn’t think he was a threat or trying to get her nerves under control? Sorcha decided both.

“I got back too late,” Kiernan lied. “I knew you’d be here this time of day, and I didn’t want to wait.”

“Learn patience,” she said, turning back to face Kiernan. The surprise and irritation were gone from her face, replaced by a smooth, unruffled mask of calm. “I have alternate security. If you try this again, you’ll get an ugly surprise.”

“Noted.” Kiernan didn’t seem bothered by the threat.

“Who’s she?” The Warder gestured to Sorcha without taking her eyes off Kiernan. Sorcha tried to look vacuous and unconcerned.

“A friend I met in a bar on my way home. She wanted to see Charlotte for a few days. I said I’d show her around.”

“I bet.” The Warder rolled her eyes and dismissed Sorcha from her attention.