Later. When we are alone.'
There was a promise of something in his voice, something hot and wild and erotically wicked, and she pictured him without his shirt, pictured her fingertips tracing down the muscles and ridges of his back. She shivered. His scent chose that moment to surround, envelop, and submerge her, awakening her to a deeper level of need.
She had to change the subject before she did something foolish, like ignore the outside world and her responsibilities and drag him home. 'Are there humans in Atlantis?' she asked.
'Some. Years ago the gods brought humans to our land to remind us of our humanity. Not long after their appearance, the vampires ate most of them.'
'Gross.' She spied a peek at him through the shield of her lashes, then quickly refocused on the stairs before she tripped. 'Have you, well, have you ever dated a human woman before? Not that you're dating one now,' she rushed on. 'I just meant-' She compressed her lips together.
He jumped right to the heart of the matter. 'By dated do you mean bedded?'
'If the question doesn't offend you, then yes.'
'Are you sure you wish to hear the answer?'
Yes. No. She sighed. She really wanted to know. 'Yes.'
'There's only one human I would willingly bed, Grace, and I have plans to do so.' One of his fingers heatedly caressed her palm.
Oh. Ribbons of pleasure wound around her, and her lips lifted in a soft smile she couldn't stop.
By the time they topped the forty-third floor, Grace's thigh muscles burned with fatigue. She'd always dreamt of being a perfect size six, but the torture required for such a task was getting to be too much. Exercise… how she was coming to loathe the word. It was a thing more foul than low-fat ranch dressing.
Darius held open the door, and she swept past him, finally releasing his hand. She stepped inside Argonauts, the carpet beneath her feet a plush burgundy wool. Her gaze scanned the offices. On the wall hung Picasso, Monet and Renoir. Guards manned several corners, and security cameras roamed in every direction. A small rocky waterfall filled the center of the waiting area, and an expensive, exotic perfume floated on the air, drifting like clouds over the sun on a perfect spring day. Both were peaceful, and both mocked her.
That bastard! There was no doubt in her mind how Jason Graves afforded these things. A surge of rage boiled deep inside her. When Alex had first begun working for Argonauts, he'd barely made enough money to pay the rent on a little efficiency in Brooklyn. The past few months he'd brought home substantially more and had moved to his decadent new apartment in the Upper East Side.
Argonauts, too, had moved from their small offices in Brooklyn to here.
Yesterday, or even an hour ago, she had thought this success was because of recent mythological discoveries. Now she knew the truth. Jason Graves afforded these luxuries through the rape of Atlantis.
She stalked to the reception desk. Three women manned phones and computers. The first, the one Grace approached, had short black hair and heavily but perfectly made up features. She wasn't pretty in the traditional sense, but attractive all the same. She frowned with impatience at Grace, then dropped her jaw in awe when she saw Darius. That damn sex appeal of his!
'One moment please,' the woman said into her mouthpiece, speaking to a caller. To Darius, she said, 'May I help you?' Her voice was cultured, ritzy.
Grace fisted her hands to keep from unleashing her claws.
'We will see Jason Graves now,' he said.
So much for doing all the talking, she thought with a mental sigh.
'What's your name, sir?'
'Darius en Kragin.'
The woman's fingers flew over her keyboard, her long, oval nails tapping away. Without glancing up, she asked, 'Which company are you with?'
'I come on my own behalf.'
She finished her typing, read over the computer screen, then leveled him with a stare. 'Mr. Graves isn't in today. He's out on business.'
Grace rubbed a hand down her face. She was tired of delays and was completely out of patience. 'When do you expect him back?' she asked more sharply than she'd intended.
'End of the week. Possibly beginning of next. If you'll leave your name and number, I'll make sure he receives the information when he returns.'
Unwilling to wait that long, Grace said, 'What about his assistant? Is he in?'
'That would be Mitch Pierce,' the woman said. She propped her elbows on the desk, linked her delicate, tapered fingers, and perched her chin in the cradle her hands provided. 'And yes, he is.'
Mitch… another Argonaut who had helped her in the jungle. She contained a scowl. 'We'd like to see him. Today.'
Arched brows and a superior smile met her words. 'Do you have an appointment?'
Grace opened her mouth to say no, but stopped herself. Admitting she didn't have an appointment was the fastest way to get shown to the door. However, she'd be caught in a lie if she said yes. Not knowing what else to do, she traced her bottom lip with her fingertip and pretended to mull the question in her mind. I probably look like an idiot .
Thankfully the receptionist grew tired of waiting and said, exasperated, 'I'll see if he can fit you in. What's your name?'
'Grace Carlyle.'
One hand rapped at her computer while the other punched a series of numbers in the telephone pad. After requesting Mr. Pierce's schedule, she hung up and glanced at Grace. 'He'll see you within the hour. You may wait through the double doors on your left.'
'Thank you,' Grace said. Trying unsuccessfully to suppress her triumph, she ushered Darius into the waiting room. They were alone in the room. A round, glass table occupied the center and was piled high with books and magazines; along the farthest wall sat a couch and several chairs. All elegant, and all expensive.
During their wait they endured several peek-in visits from security guards. She flipped through a few magazines. (According to the current Cosmo love quiz, she and Darius were not compatible.) In one of the magazines, there was a feature article about Jason Graves, his recent discoveries, and his recent accumulation of wealth. The article told how he had purchased an apartment building on the Upper East Side and allowed all of his employees to stay there-which was where Alex lived. That she'd known. Jason himself stayed in the penthouse. That she hadn't.
Darius spent the short time splayed out in his seat, his hands locked behind his neck. He kept his eyes closed. She suspected he was gathering his strength and mentally preparing himself for the coming confrontation.
Finally a woman, slightly older and less hostile than the receptionist, entered and said, 'Mr. Pierce will see you now. If you'll follow me… '
Grace jumped to her feet, Darius right beside her. They shared a glance before exiting. Side by side, they strode down a hall and around a corner. The woman stopped and swept her hand out in front of her. 'Last door on the right,' she said.
Gliding past her, Grace eyed every door she encountered. She didn't see Alex's name. Where was his office? 'I'm so ready to nail the Argonauts to the wall,' she muttered to Darius.
A genuine smile played at the corner of his lips. 'I had not realized before what a bloodthirsty wench you are. Try to contain your bloodlust long enough that we might question this Mitch.'
'Bloodlust?' she gasped, then realized he thought she literally meant to nail Mitch to the wall. 'I meant-oh, never mind.' Whether she meant it or not, the idea had merit. 'I'll try to contain myself.'
At the end of the hallway loomed a single door. The nameplate in the center announced Mitch's name in bold, black letters. 'That's the one,' Grace said, smoothing her shirt and jeans. She didn't know what she'd say or do when she saw him.
Darius didn't bother knocking. He simply shoved open the door and strolled inside.
She followed right on his heels. Mitch sat at a large mahogany desk. There was no clutter, no papers scattered around him. He was as average looking as Grace recalled, with broad shoulders and lean limbs, pleasantly
