Here he was, yet not here at all. Lingering in the doorway, keeping his distance, as if that would keep the wolf at bay. Poor baby, she thought, and smiled, both here in the ballroom and there in RV. The space between them was an illusion. She had him, literally, in the palm of her hands.
Damage she could do to him, yes, here in this memory, damage deep enough to manifest on his real body and not this pretty projection. And he to her, if that spine was as straight as it looked. And so tall! She'd nearly forgot, in the mere minutes between. She took another sip of her drink, this one appreciative. It was one thing, seeing him laid out on her floor. Quite another to see him in the flesh.
Such as it was.
She bit her lip as the glass lowered, wondering if it would come to violence so soon. That was entirely up to him, she supposed. For now, she was content to do this the slow way. That mallet, thought, contained not threats but promises. That mallet wouldn’t hesitate. Even if he did. Funny how the prospect sent a thrill through her. This place would bring out so many unwanted things in him. This place would undo him. Really, all she had to do was sit back and watch.
Evangeline sent him a smile that matched the decor, welcoming and wolfish. “I could ask you the same question, pup.” Her bright tone cracked just a little on the last word, just enough. “You’re the one who came to me. Or did you forget?”
No, he didn’t forget. He never forgot. She could see that in the glint in his eyes, in the way he tried so desperately not to look at the glass waiting for him on the bar, beckoning. Not wanting it to remain so ignored, she turned and tipped her head down in its direction, one finger idly grazing the rim of her hat. “Can’t blame the siren for her song, can you? And you’re hearing so many. You’re not the only one.”
Her eyes slanted back at him, wicked. “Or the first.”