Velvet Haven

stood and swung his chair around, Rowan looked disappointed. She sent Mairi an it’s- no-biggie shrug. But Mairi saw the hurt and the disappointment in her eyes.
    Sayer, who had been watching Keir blend into the crowd, turned his attention back to Rowan. “Wanna dance?”
    Rowan practically leaped up from the table. “I’d love to.”
    Great, now she had to be alone with Mr. Built and Sexy. Ordinarily she could hold her own with guys, but this one—he wasn’t ordinary. He did something to her body that no one else had ever done. It was as if Bran knew how to order her body to ignore her commands. Even as she tried to remind herself he was a stranger, her thighs got hot and her underwear dampened.
    She had had a few boyfriends, and she’d always liked sex, but ever since she’d laid eyes on him, all she could think about was getting naked and feeling him hot and hard between her thighs. It was so disturbing. These thoughts, these feelings, they weren’t normal for her. Especially with a guy she had just met.
    He seemed to be aware that she was nervous, sitting all alone next to him, and mercifully he broke the silence.
    “There’s a show starting in a few minutes. Would you like to see it?”
    Mairi thought of the show she’d witnessed in the mirrors when she first arrived. “Depends what it is.”
    “Magic. Do you like magic, Mairi?”
    “Not really. It’s just illusions.”
    He chuckled, a deep baritone rumble from his chest. The sound aroused her, but she hid it. “What’s wrong with illusions?” he asked, and Mairi felt his fingers touch an errant strand of hair that had fallen against her cheek.
    “You can’t trust them,” she snapped, thinking of Aaron, and how he was nothing at all what he appeared to be. Ever since, Mairi had been skittish around men, fearing that the kind of games Aaron had played with Rowan could happen to her.
    “Do you trust me, Mairi?”
    The question was asked so softly that Mairi felt her stomach lurch. He was looking at her, she could tell, but she refused to meet his gaze. “No.”
    He leaned in, angled his head so he lips were pressed close to her. “Why not?”
    His breath tickled her ear and she suppressed a shiver. “Because I know your kind.”
    He chuckled, deep and seductive. “I don’t think so.”
    “Yeah, I do.”
    “Some things aren’t what they seem, Mairi. Even me.”
    “Which makes me trust you even less.”
    “I know your kind, too.” She gave him an arch look, and he had the nerve to grin. His gaze lowered to her lips, where her tongue was swiping away a drop of beer. “Should I tell you what I know of you?”
    She shouldn’t play this game. In all honesty it would probably wind up hurting her self-esteem, but she was helpless to refuse him when he looked at her with that deep, storm cloud gaze of his.
    “Well?” he whispered, allowing his fingers to caress her arm. “Do you want to know what I know? What I feel coming off your skin?”
    A long, breathy pause weighed heavily between them before it was broken.
    “For the lady.” A waitress dressed in fishnets and shiny PVC sauntered up to the table with a martini glass. “From the guy at the corner table.”
    Finally breaking Bran’s gaze, Mairi tried to collect herself. “What is it?” Mairi asked, looking at the brown liquid.
    “An angel’s kiss.”
    Mairi glanced toward the corner. In the dark, illuminated only by a candle on the table, sat a guy who was the definition of gorgeous. He was beautiful, with shoulder- length brown hair. His eyes appeared dark, and when he smiled, Mairi felt compelled to smile back.
    Raising his glass, the man saluted her.
    “Don’t drink it.”
    “Hey,” Mairi cried as Bran reached for the glass and dumped the contents into a plant that was beside him.
    “Suriel is bad news.”
    “And you’re not?” she shot back.
    “Compared to him, I’m the least of your worries. Trust me.”
    Strangely, she did. Even as she glanced once more at the man named Suriel. A little frisson swept up her back. She felt as if she had seen the man before, but could not place him. There was something there in his eyes, a shared familiarity.
    “Do not invite him in, Mairi,” Bran warned.
    “In where?” she asked, suddenly growing languid.
    “Inside you.”
    The words were soft, deep, like a velvet caress. Swallowing hard, Mairi tried to fight the way her body seemed to grow hot and achy. Damn Bran. Every word was an invitation to sex. What the hell was