Undenied (2 page)

He’d heard that sound countless times in the dream realm as he’d looked for his mate. While he’d never seen her, he had heard her voice, and it was always accompanied by that jingling.

Boris froze, and all reason left him when her voice reached out and touched his mind with the gentlest of whispers.
Worst
day
ever.

His instincts had been right.

His mate was a human. She was here, and she was pissed.

Lillian stopped at the next corner, trying to figure out what intersection she was at, and what she saw stole the breath from her lungs. Any lingering doubt about her decision to come to New Orleans was immediately squashed.

An oval wooden sign hung above an open doorway and swung in the breeze, as if waving her in. In faded gold letters it said
The
Den
and directly beneath that was the picture of a snarling tiger.

A smile crept over Lillian’s face, and her bracelets jingled as she brushed away windblown strands of hair. “I’m home.”

Just as she was about to step inside, a man stumbled blindly through the doorway and slammed into her, knocking her to the ground onto her butt with an undignified
oomphf.
Lillian, too surprised to say anything, watched as a nasty looking man scrambled to his feet.

“And don’t you ever show your goddamned face in my place again!” said an oddly familiar baritone voice.

“You’re gonna pay for that, you son of a bitch!” the man who’d been thrown out screamed.

The man glared at Lillian through narrow, beady eyes, but he leered as his gaze flicked to her legs. Lillian blushed and tugged her skirt back in place. She’d been so taken aback that she hadn’t realized her skirt was up over her waist. She shot him an irritated look as he snickered and took off running down the street.

Still sitting on the sidewalk, Lillian watched him run off and swore silently to herself.
Worst
day
ever.
She brushed the hair off her face as her gaze wandered up a pair of long, denim-clad legs. The imposing man stood with his hands on his narrow hips and looked at her through a fierce pair of hazel eyes. Shoulder-length jet-black hair framed the most strikingly handsome face that she’d ever laid eyes on, and from this angle, the man, whoever he was, was a giant. And he was gorgeous.

His dark brows furrowed, and his nostrils flared. “Why are you sitting on the sidewalk in front of my bar?” he growled through clenched teeth, and his gaze flicked to the bracelets as they jingled on her wrist.

“No, I’m not hurt. Thanks for asking,” Lillian huffed as she got to her feet and adjusted her peasant blouse. “That guy you just threw out of the bar? Well, you threw him
into
me. So—thanks for that. I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to get run over by someone.” She gave him two sarcastic thumbs up and whispered, “Awesome.”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he said tightly as he continued to stare, but his voice dropped to a low seductive tone. “Are you alright?”

Something in those hazel eyes looked oddly familiar, and she found herself staring boldly back. The man closed the distance between them as he captivated her with his penetrating gaze. Lillian held her breath as his massive frame invaded her personal space. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. She was only five foot five, and he had to be over six feet.

“Are you Boris?” she asked after finding her voice again.

“Yes.” His inky black eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

Okay. Definitely not a fat, old Russian dude. More like a sexy, Siberian soldier, she thought as she looked him up and down. She’d never seen a man this good-looking in person, and she was relatively certain that he knew his way around a woman’s body.

Lillian blinked and blushed at the pornographic images that filled her imagination. What on earth was she doing? Getting hot and bothered over the man who may possibly be her landlord was not a smart move.

The last thing a logical woman would do is rent a room from some guy she barely knew. Let alone a guy who had a shady background and threw people into the street like it was commonplace.

For all she knew, he could be a crazy psycho—a crazy
hot
psycho. The smart thing to do would be to walk away and sleep in her van until she could find something else to rent.

Staring into those hypnotic brown eyes, all rational thought was driven from her. Something deep in her gut told her that behind the gruff, albeit gorgeous, facade there was kindness, tenderness… and pain.

Once again, logic lost to gut instinct.

“I’m Lillian Cordero.” She straightened, stepped back, and stuck her hand out, but when he didn’t accept it, she clutched her leather satchel closer to her slim body. “I see that manners aren’t big here in the Big Easy. First I get screwed out of the room I was supposed to rent. Then I get knocked to the ground by you—or by the guy you threw out of your bar—and now you won’t even shake my hand. Dude. Not cool.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest and arched one eyebrow.

“I—I heard you have a room for rent,” she blurted.

Lillian licked her lip nervously. She kept her eyes locked with his, meeting his challenging gaze, but he said nothing as he continued to stare back.

“I’m a palm reader, and I’m supposed to set up in Jackson Square tomorrow. I’d rather not sleep in my van on the street.” She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “Are you going to answer me, or are you going to find another drunken guy to throw at me?”

The hint of a smile played at his lips as his sharp gaze wandered over her face, but then, without another word, he turned, waving for her to follow. With logic nowhere in sight, Lillian followed and prayed that her gut wasn’t going to get her in deeper than she already was.

She stepped into the dark bar and immediately thought of pirates and days gone by. There were old pistols hanging on the wall, pictures of ships, and the same image of the tiger was hanging above the bar as the one she saw outside.

“Jack, keep an eye on the bar while I show my new tenant to her room.”

“You bet, Boris.” A young college-aged boy with a friendly smile waved his acknowledgement as they passed. “Ma’am.”

Lillian suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. The kid called her ma’am. Twenty-five was not ma’am age… was it?

The few patrons stared wide-eyed at Boris, and the place fell silent as they went toward the back. He seemed unfazed and cut through with long, confident strides.

“Better be careful, young lady. There’s tigers around here.” The old drunk hiccupped and almost fell off the stool as he whispered, “I seen ’em.”

Boris snagged him by the collar and hoisted the poor man back onto his bar stool.

“I think you’ve had your fill for today, Bill.” He patted the old guy on the back and made sure he was steady on his seat. “Jack, get him some water, and make sure that’s all he’s getting for the rest of the night.”

“Oh fine,” the grizzled old guy grumbled. “I may be a drunk, but I know I’ve seen tigers around here.”

“There are tigers on the signs of the bar, Bill.” Boris continued to the back hallway as he fished a set of keys from his pocket.

Lillian tried not to stare at his perfectly formed ass as she followed him in the small dark hallway, but it was next to impossible. The guy looked as though he didn’t have an ounce of body fat under that white T-shirt and jeans. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

It was his voice—she knew she’d heard it somewhere.

She was so busy taking in the sight of his well-muscled body that she didn’t realize he’d stopped moving, and she walked right into his back. It was as rock solid as it looked.

She would’ve fallen on her butt if he hadn’t spun around and caught her with catlike reflexes. His strong hands gripped her by the waist as he kept her from tumbling for the second time in ten minutes.

As he was pulling her toward him, Lillian let out an uncharacteristically loud yelp and grabbed onto his shoulders for balance. Her breath hitched in her throat as she found herself staring into his eyes once again, eyes that peered at her intently between long locks of ebony hair that had fallen across his forehead.

“You should really watch where you’re going.”

His full lips set in a tight line as he breathed in deeply—breathed
her
in. He held her tighter, and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her—not that she’d mind—but she didn’t make it a habit of making out with strangers. For him she’d make an exception.

“You’re going to get hurt if you’re not more careful. New Orleans can be a dangerous place.”

Her heart thudded as the deep baritone washed over her, and it was then that she knew where she’d heard his voice. The tiger from her dream—she was certain. But that made no sense. She’d never laid eyes on the man before today—but there was no mistaking it—Boris had the same voice as the tiger.

The tattoo on her back burned and tingled as she made the connection. Before she could respond or say another word, he abruptly released her and opened the back door.

Stunned, intrigued, and uncertain of what the hell was going on, she followed him and let out a loud gasp when she saw their new surroundings. Her bracelets jingled as she clasped one hand over her mouth and took in every lush inch of the hidden oasis.

Tucked away behind the bar was the most beautiful courtyard she’d ever laid eyes on. There were yellow and pink roses climbing around three double doorways, and at the center was a beautiful old fountain with the statue of a snarling tiger standing on its hind legs with paws raised. A gentle waterspout flowed from the tiger’s paws into the pool at his feet. The sound added an extra sense of peace to the serene space.

“This place is about as groovy as it gets,” she breathed the words in a reverent tone. She looked at the darkening sky and whistled. “Nobody would ever know this existed back here.”

“This is the door to your room.” Boris stood at the doorway to the right and pushed the double doors open.

When she set eyes on the massive studio apartment, her heart sank.

There was no way on earth she could afford this place. The far wall had a bank of windows that were shuttered, but she knew they would let in a ton of beautiful light in the mornings. There was a plasma television with a tricked-out sound system at the center and a gorgeous yellow floral living room set in the middle of the room.

To the left was a white and blue kitchenette with a bistro table by the window—perfect for coffee and beignets for breakfast—and to the right was the bedroom with a king-size bed with a pile of soft, fluffy pillows that reminded her of a mountain of clouds. There was probably a bathroom somewhere, but she didn’t dare go and look. It would only make it harder to tell him she couldn’t afford it.

“You seem displeased.” Boris watched as she wandered to the windows and ran her hand along the edge of the oversized sofa. “Is it not to your liking?”

“No,” Lillian said quickly. She tugged on the satchel slung across her body and let out a loud sigh as she made her way to the door of the apartment. “It’s… perfect. Too perfect and sadly way out of my budget, I’m afraid. I’m sorry that I wasted your time. I should’ve asked how much it was before you brought me back here to see it.”

“What were you going to pay for the other place?”

Lillian laughed loudly and rolled her eyes. “A lot less than you would charge for a fully furnished gem like this.”

He stalked toward her with a predatory look as the corners of his lips lifted. Boris invaded her personal space and inched closer until their bodies were a breath apart. “How much?” he whispered.

Lillian swallowed the lump in her throat and struggled to find her voice as the tiger tattoo burned again with the sound of his voice. Her eyes wandered over the sharp angles of his face and settled on those breathtaking eyes.

“Ab—about four hundred dollars a month,” she sputtered.

“Sold.”

Heat wafted off his body and surrounded her as he took her hand. With his gaze fixed firmly on hers, Boris’s long fingers curled around her hand as he placed the cool metal keys in her palm. His skin slid along her hand, sending a seductive wave of warmth through her body and a sudden rush of wetness between her legs.

Holy crap
.

Lillian suppressed a groan of pleasure, and her face heated with embarrassment at her body’s blatant attraction. She prayed that her nipples weren’t poking through her thin peasant blouse because she’d never been more turned on in her life.

What the hell was going on?

She’d never been aroused by some guy touching her hand. Jesus Christ. If she practically had an orgasm from this, what would happen if he touched other parts? She blinked and shook her head, as if she could shake the slutty right out of herself.

She was here to rent an apartment and work in the Square, not maul her new landlord—no matter how crazy-sexy-hot he might be. Lillian flicked her pale blue eyes up to meet his and fought for self-control.

“You’re going to rent me this place for four hundred dollars a month?” Lillian blurted the words out, sounding as stunned as she felt.

He leaned closer and held her hand tighter as he curled her fingers closed, pressing the keys into her grasp, and whispered, “Yes.”

“Is it because of what happened with your sister?” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She’d almost forgotten about the crazy sister—almost. She had to admit she was itching to find out what that story was, and if her stupid computer hadn’t died, she could’ve Googled it. “I mean—I heard about something, and Gladys said you couldn’t rent this place because of it. Did she die here or something?”

She cringed. Lillian knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it—she was nervous and turned on and in desperate need of her calming crystals.

His eyes narrowed, but he held her challenging gaze as the muscles in his jaw flickered with tension. Without answering her question, he dropped her hands and strode toward the door.

For a moment, she thought her big mouth had blown the whole deal.

“That door all the way to the right is a private entrance from the street, and the other door leads to your bathroom. I live in the rest of the first floor, and the second story is mostly storage. I realize that you’ve had a difficult time since you’ve arrived here in New Orleans, so you can pay me for the first month once you’re settled in.”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Lillian said through a short laugh as she clutched the keys to her chest and gave him a wide smile.