Jared's face clouds, the line of his jaw becomes more defined. "You can't." His tone brooks no opposition. There's no wheedling or calming. He's telling me like it is.
I blow out a shaky breath.
"Are you thinking about telling someone?" There's an edge of danger in his tone, something I haven't heard before. The guy is huge and I've already seen what he's capable of in his short tussle with the vampire. But in this moment, it becomes infinitely clear that he's deadly.
My heart pounds against my ribs.
"Are you?" His tone is sharper than a knife.
"No!" I'm both offended and angry. And still scared shitless.
Jared relaxes against the seatback-the one he pushed all the way into the backseat to get in-but a furrow still clouds his brow. "I don't like to smell fear on you, baby." His hands tighten on the wheel, like he's holding on to keep from reaching for me. "I'm sorry I scared you."
My mind swirls with a million unfinished thoughts. The only coherent one that floats to the surface is he can smell my fear?
"Sure," he says. I guess I asked it out loud. "And your arousal."
I flush and shoot a glance at him. His lips twitch and I want to punch him. What this man does to me! I don't slap or punch people. Ever.
"I usually park all the way up on 5th street and walk. You can't park on campus." I inform him, to change the subject.
But he turns, pulling right onto campus and stopping in front of the dance building. "You're late. Go on in. I'll park and meet you after your class."
I get out and lean my head in the door. "I have classes here all day. Seriously. Just come back at four."
He shakes his head. "I'll be there after ballet."
I roll my eyes. "Fine," I say before I remember his words last night.
His grin is borrowed straight from the devil, himself. "Now you're in for it."
I slam the door and stomp up the stairs, my face burning red, butt already tingling thinking about his promised spanking.
Jared
There's a special kind of torture for males who dare imagine they're worthy of a ballerina. It's the body-hugging garments they wear that pass for clothing. I'm standing outside the door of Angelina's ballet class peeking through the window and dying.
Literally. I'm dying. My cock is rock hard, especially because now I'm thinking about spanking her and I don't know if I'll make it through the day without letting off some steam.
A group of girls in leotards and tights gather outside the studio, plopping on the floor and spreading their legs wide to stretch in preparation for the next class. Some of them appear appropriately scandalized to see me here-what I'd expect from the virginal masses of uptight dancers. But some eye me with the bold looks I'm used to getting at the club, gazes traveling over my muscles and tattoos. It's that fascination with the bad boy that makes even good girls make poor decisions.
"Are you waiting for someone?" One of them pipes up.
"Yep."
"Who?"
"Angelina. The redhead." I nod to the window where the dancers are in poses similar to the one of the Romeo and Juliet ballet poster on the wall I'm leaning against.
"Oh yeah. She's great. I love Angelina," one of them gushes, getting even flirtier, even though I just named my female.
"She is," I murmur, watching my girl spin in four consecutive circles on shoes that let her stand right on her toes. Her legs are a mile long and pure muscle. Her body, a work of art. This is a different Angelina than the one I've seen at the club. She's serious and precise. Perfect in every move. And rather unhappy-looking. I sure as hell hope it's not because I'm here.
A door at the front of the studio opens and dancers spill out along with strains of fancy music. Classical or some shit.
"Angelina!" one of the girls near me squeals. "Over here."
Angelina takes one look at me and her lips tighten.
Dammit. I am definitely bringing her down.
She marches over and I half expect her to march right past, but instead she lands right up against my body, face upturned, as if for a kiss. An angry kiss. No-possessive. She's marking me in front of her friends.
Hot alpha female.
Let it never be said I wasted an opportunity. My lips are on hers before she can blink, and it's not a peck, either. I devour her mouth like a starving man, ignoring the twitters of laughter from the gaggle of dancers around us.
When I release Angelina, her lips are swollen, eyes glazed. I wrap my hand around her nape and lean down to murmur in her ear. "You staking your claim, baby?"
She lifts her chin in that adorably stubborn pose I've come to adore. "Maybe." And with that, she sashays off, leaving me to follow after her.
I don't hurry, sauntering behind her, getting my fill of the swing of her ass, the flex of her muscular thighs. She stops and bends over a drinking fountain, even though she's carrying a half-full water bottle. Giving me a show. I arrive behind her and make an approving noise in my throat.
Because I'm fairly certain that's what she wants.
I happen to know her next class isn't for forty minutes, which gives me time to get my hands on her. If I can just get her some place alone. Unfortunately, I'm still attracting stares from every human in the building.
I bump up behind Angelina and wrap one arm around her waist, pulling her back against my body so she can feel my solid erection. "Baby, take me somewhere private and I'll reward you properly for offering up that kiss."
I half expect her to shut me down, but her eyes dart around and then she grabs my hand, pulling me down an empty hallway. She tries a door and finds it locked, then tries another one. It opens.