Velvet Haven

wrong with her?
    “What do you mean?” she asked, glancing furtively between the man and Bran. “Inside me?”
    “Do not . . . invoke him.”
    Invoke him? What a thing to say. Demons and evil spirits were invoked, but this guy . . . he had the face of an angel. A dark angel , she thought, suddenly bemused. His beauty was not effeminate, but masculine and virile. Fallen . . . the word suddenly tripped through her mind and she snapped her head to the left only to come face-to-face with Bran. His fingers trailed down her cheek, his gaze holding hers steadily as he pressed in closer to whisper against her ear.
    “Do not allow him inside you.”
    “I . . . I wasn’t planning on it,” she gulped. “I’m not that kind of girl.” Liar.
    She met Bran’s gaze, saw it glimmer in the candlelight. “There are more ways than sex to allow a man in.”
    Oh, God. She would let him in any way he wanted.
    She should have been scared of the intense vibes he was putting out. But the truth was she was immensely, recklessly, attracted to Bran.
    Standing up, she nearly knocked over the little table holding their drinks. “I’ll be right back,” she said, struggling to get away from Bran and the crazy thoughts she was having.
    She didn’t even know this guy, for crying out loud! How could she be entertaining the idea of sleeping with him? He could rape her. Kill her. Or worse, he could do the same sort of things that Lauren’s killer had done to her.
    “You will not go alone. I will escort you.”
    “No, really, I’m good—”
    “I am taking you to wherever it is you want to go. You will not wander the club alone.”
    His fingers wrapped around her elbow and tugged her gently forward. Then his palm slid down her arm till it reached her wrist. It was like an electric shock, that touch. Her wrist felt as though it were on fire, and she was certain her entire body jolted.
    “Mairi?” Bran’s voice sounded so distant, like it was part of a dream, even as his face appeared to be coming closer to her.
    She glanced over her shoulder at the man named Suriel. He watched her, his eyes dark and mesmerizing. Unreadable.
    Suddenly, she felt very weak, as if Suriel’s gaze had somehow stolen all her strength from her. She wavered and reached for Bran’s arm for support.
    Shaking her head, which was now foggy and muddled, a horrible feeling of consuming emptiness engulfed her. Suddenly, she was feeling desperate— terrified —a helplessness was pulling her down. She looked down at her exposed wrist, at the white scars that ran horizontally across her skin. She had felt like this once before. This frightening emptiness. Loss. And still Suriel watched her, his gaze penetrating.
    “Do not fear me.”
    Mairi heard the voice whisper through her mind, the same voice that had occasionally spoken to her in dreams as a young child. Instead of soothing her, the voice frightened her, made her want to run.
    “I would never harm you, Mairi. You know that. You know me.”
    She shook her head, as much to clear her thoughts as to deny the truth of the words. Yes. She had heard that voice before.
    “I know your secret. I was there; remember?”
    Mairi staggered back, still clutching on to Bran’s thick forearm. “I need the bathroom,” she said in a rush, stumbling away, needing to get away from everyone and everything.
    “Have you drunk too much?” he asked, concern flashing in his eyes. His gaze, she noticed, slipped to her drink, then back to Sayer, who was dancing with Rowan. Fear spiked in her heart. Was it possible she had been drugged? If so, she needed to get away from him before she couldn’t move. Before she could no longer protect herself. And yet she knew that she had not been drugged.
    “I just need . . .” She paused, shook her head, trying to clear it of the heavy fog that seemed to be encroaching. She gazed once more at Suriel, who was sipping his drink and looking out over the dance floor. She was no longer the fixture of his attention, yet something warned her that she was still the focus of his interest.
    “I just need a minute,” she mumbled, stumbling away toward the bathroom. She felt Bran’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look back. She headed for the washroom, threw open the door, and entered the first unoccupied stall. Sitting down on the toilet, she closed her eyes and put her head to her knees. The room was spinning and she felt sleepy, languid. As if she were going to black out. Behind her closed lids