Undenied Page 2

  His dark brows furrowed, and his nostrils flared. “Why are you sitting on the sidewalk in front of my bar?” he growled through clenched teeth, and his gaze flicked to the bracelets as they jingled on her wrist.

  “No, I’m not hurt. Thanks for asking,” Lillian huffed as she got to her feet and adjusted her peasant blouse. “That guy you just threw out of the bar? Well, you threw him into me. So—thanks for that. I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to get run over by someone.” She gave him two sarcastic thumbs up and whispered, “Awesome.”

  “I’m—I’m sorry,” he said tightly as he continued to stare, but his voice dropped to a low seductive tone. “Are you alright?”

  Something in those hazel eyes looked oddly familiar, and she found herself staring boldly back. The man closed the distance between them as he captivated her with his penetrating gaze. Lillian held her breath as his massive frame invaded her personal space. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. She was only five foot five, and he had to be over six feet.

  “Are you Boris?” she asked after finding her voice again.

  “Yes.” His inky black eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

  Okay. Definitely not a fat, old Russian dude. More like a sexy, Siberian soldier, she thought as she looked him up and down. She’d never seen a man this good-looking in person, and she was relatively certain that he knew his way around a woman’s body.

  Lillian blinked and blushed at the pornographic images that filled her imagination. What on earth was she doing? Getting hot and bothered over the man who may possibly be her landlord was not a smart move.

  The last thing a logical woman would do is rent a room from some guy she barely knew. Let alone a guy who had a shady background and threw people into the street like it was commonplace.

  For all she knew, he could be a crazy psycho—a crazy hot psycho. The smart thing to do would be to walk away and sleep in her van until she could find something else to rent.

  Staring into those hypnotic brown eyes, all rational thought was driven from her. Something deep in her gut told her that behind the gruff, albeit gorgeous, facade there was kindness, tenderness… and pain.

  Once again, logic lost to gut instinct.

  “I’m Lillian Cordero.” She straightened, stepped back, and stuck her hand out, but when he didn’t accept it, she clutched her leather satchel closer to her slim body. “I see that manners aren’t big here in the Big Easy. First I get screwed out of the room I was supposed to rent. Then I get knocked to the ground by you—or by the guy you threw out of your bar—and now you won’t even shake my hand. Dude. Not cool.”

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest and arched one eyebrow.

  “I—I heard you have a room for rent,” she blurted.

  Lillian licked her lip nervously. She kept her eyes locked with his, meeting his challenging gaze, but he said nothing as he continued to stare back.

  “I’m a palm reader, and I’m supposed to set up in Jackson Square tomorrow. I’d rather not sleep in my van on the street.” She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “Are you going to answer me, or are you going to find another drunken guy to throw at me?”

  The hint of a smile played at his lips as his sharp gaze wandered over her face, but then, without another word, he turned, waving for her to follow. With logic nowhere in sight, Lillian followed and prayed that her gut wasn’t going to get her in deeper than she already was.

  She stepped into the dark bar and immediately thought of pirates and days gone by. There were old pistols hanging on the wall, pictures of ships, and the same image of the tiger was hanging above the bar as the one she saw outside.

  “Jack, keep an eye on the bar while I show my new tenant to her room.”

  “You bet, Boris.” A young college-aged boy with a friendly smile waved his acknowledgement as they passed. “Ma’am.”

  Lillian suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. The kid called her ma’am. Twenty-five was not ma’am age… was it?

  The few patrons stared wide-eyed at Boris, and the place fell silent as they went toward the back. He seemed unfazed and cut through with long, confident strides.

  “Better be careful, young lady. There’s tigers around here.” The old drunk hiccupped and almost fell off the stool as he whispered, “I seen ’em.”

  Boris snagged him by the collar and hoisted the poor man back onto his bar stool.

  “I think you’ve had your fill for today, Bill.” He patted the old guy on the back and made sure he was steady on his seat. “Jack, get him some water, and make sure that’s all he’s getting for the rest of the night.”

  “Oh fine,” the grizzled old guy grumbled. “I may be a drunk, but I know I’ve seen tigers around here.”

  “There are tigers on the signs of the bar, Bill.” Boris continued to the back hallway as he fished a set of keys from his pocket.

  Lillian tried not to stare at his perfectly formed ass as she followed him in the small dark hallway, but it was next to impossible. The guy looked as though he didn’t have an ounce of body fat under that white T-shirt and jeans. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  It was his voice—she knew she’d heard it somewhere.

  She was so busy taking in the sight of his well-muscled body that she didn’t realize he’d stopped moving, and she walked right into his back. It was as rock solid as it looked.

  She would’ve fallen on her butt if he hadn’t spun around and caught her with catlike reflexes. His strong hands gripped her by the waist as he kept her from tumbling for the second time in ten minutes.

  As he was pulling her toward him, Lillian let out an uncharacteristically loud yelp and grabbed onto his shoulders for balance. Her breath hitched in her throat as she found herself staring into his eyes once again, eyes that peered at her intently between long locks of ebony hair that had fallen across his forehead.

  “You should really watch where you’re going.”

  His full lips set in a tight line as he breathed in deeply—breathed her in. He held her tighter, and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her—not that she’d mind—but she didn’t make it a habit of making out with strangers. For him she’d make an exception.

  “You’re going to get hurt if you’re not more careful. New Orleans can be a dangerous place.”

  Her heart thudded as the deep baritone washed over her, and it was then that she knew where she’d heard his voice. The tiger from her dream—she was certain. But that made no sense. She’d never laid eyes on the man before today—but there was no mistaking it—Boris had the same voice as the tiger.

  The tattoo on her back burned and tingled as she made the connection. Before she could respond or say another word, he abruptly released her and opened the back door.

  Stunned, intrigued, and uncertain of what the hell was going on, she followed him and let out a loud gasp when she saw their new surroundings. Her bracelets jingled as she clasped one hand over her mouth and took in every lush inch of the hidden oasis.

  Tucked away behind the bar was the most beautiful courtyard she’d ever laid eyes on. There were yellow and pink roses climbing around three double doorways, and at the center was a beautiful old fountain with the statue of a snarling tiger standing on its hind legs with paws raised. A gentle waterspout flowed from the tiger’s paws into the pool at his feet. The sound added an extra sense of peace to the serene space.

  “This place is about as groovy as it gets,” she breathed the words in a reverent tone. She looked at the darkening sky and whistled. “Nobody would ever know this existed back here.”

  “This is the door to your room.” Boris stood at the doorway to the right and pushed the double doors open.

  When she set eyes on the massive studio apartment, her heart sank.

  There was no way on earth she could afford this place. The far wall had a bank of windows that were shuttered, but she knew they would let in a ton of beautiful light in the mornings
. There was a plasma television with a tricked-out sound system at the center and a gorgeous yellow floral living room set in the middle of the room.

  To the left was a white and blue kitchenette with a bistro table by the window—perfect for coffee and beignets for breakfast—and to the right was the bedroom with a king-size bed with a pile of soft, fluffy pillows that reminded her of a mountain of clouds. There was probably a bathroom somewhere, but she didn’t dare go and look. It would only make it harder to tell him she couldn’t afford it.

  “You seem displeased.” Boris watched as she wandered to the windows and ran her hand along the edge of the oversized sofa. “Is it not to your liking?”

  “No,” Lillian said quickly. She tugged on the satchel slung across her body and let out a loud sigh as she made her way to the door of the apartment. “It’s… perfect. Too perfect and sadly way out of my budget, I’m afraid. I’m sorry that I wasted your time. I should’ve asked how much it was before you brought me back here to see it.”

  “What were you going to pay for the other place?”

  Lillian laughed loudly and rolled her eyes. “A lot less than you would charge for a fully furnished gem like this.”

  He stalked toward her with a predatory look as the corners of his lips lifted. Boris invaded her personal space and inched closer until their bodies were a breath apart. “How much?” he whispered.

  Lillian swallowed the lump in her throat and struggled to find her voice as the tiger tattoo burned again with the sound of his voice. Her eyes wandered over the sharp angles of his face and settled on those breathtaking eyes.

  “Ab—about four hundred dollars a month,” she sputtered.

  “Sold.”

  Heat wafted off his body and surrounded her as he took her hand. With his gaze fixed firmly on hers, Boris’s long fingers curled around her hand as he placed the cool metal keys in her palm. His skin slid along her hand, sending a seductive wave of warmth through her body and a sudden rush of wetness between her legs.

  Holy crap.

  Lillian suppressed a groan of pleasure, and her face heated with embarrassment at her body’s blatant attraction. She prayed that her nipples weren’t poking through her thin peasant blouse because she’d never been more turned on in her life.

  What the hell was going on?

  She’d never been aroused by some guy touching her hand. Jesus Christ. If she practically had an orgasm from this, what would happen if he touched other parts? She blinked and shook her head, as if she could shake the slutty right out of herself.

  She was here to rent an apartment and work in the Square, not maul her new landlord—no matter how crazy-sexy-hot he might be. Lillian flicked her pale blue eyes up to meet his and fought for self-control.

  “You’re going to rent me this place for four hundred dollars a month?” Lillian blurted the words out, sounding as stunned as she felt.

  He leaned closer and held her hand tighter as he curled her fingers closed, pressing the keys into her grasp, and whispered, “Yes.”

  “Is it because of what happened with your sister?” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She’d almost forgotten about the crazy sister—almost. She had to admit she was itching to find out what that story was, and if her stupid computer hadn’t died, she could’ve Googled it. “I mean—I heard about something, and Gladys said you couldn’t rent this place because of it. Did she die here or something?”

  She cringed. Lillian knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it—she was nervous and turned on and in desperate need of her calming crystals.

  His eyes narrowed, but he held her challenging gaze as the muscles in his jaw flickered with tension. Without answering her question, he dropped her hands and strode toward the door.

  For a moment, she thought her big mouth had blown the whole deal.

  “That door all the way to the right is a private entrance from the street, and the other door leads to your bathroom. I live in the rest of the first floor, and the second story is mostly storage. I realize that you’ve had a difficult time since you’ve arrived here in New Orleans, so you can pay me for the first month once you’re settled in.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say,” Lillian said through a short laugh as she clutched the keys to her chest and gave him a wide smile.

  “By the way, I’m sure you’ll hear many wild stories about my sister, but if you want to know the truth, then come by the bar later for a drink, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Thank you, Boris.”

  Lillian had seen pain flicker briefly in his features as he mentioned his sister, but he quickly squelched it. She would most definitely be taking him up on that offer. He was more intriguing by the second, and she decided that she couldn’t wait. Her eyes widened, and she ran to him excitedly, taking his large hand in hers.

  “Hey, let me read your palm. No charge, of course,” she added quickly.

  Boris stood stone-still and said nothing but gave a curt nod of agreement. She flipped his palm over and noticed how comfortable the warmth and weight of his hand felt against her own. She shuddered as that luscious pleasure wave washed through her, but she resisted the urge to moan like a horny harlot.

  She closed her eyes, placed her index finger at the beginning of his lifeline, and waited as the images came. She saw Boris as a young boy with huge light brown eyes and shaggy hair with a little girl who looked like she could’ve been his twin. Then as he grew and became a teenager, his eyes changed. They glowed bright yellow, like the eyes of the tiger from her dreams, and seconds later, she saw Boris shift into a massive Bengal.

  Her breathing quickened as she moved her finger along the deep line in his palm, and her heart thundered as she saw people around him shifting—changing into all kinds of animals. Lions. Birds of prey. Wolves.

  She saw Boris’s sister with glowing amber eyes. A fire blazed in the bayou. Screams. Howls. Bone-shattering roars. Heat flashed, and Lillian’s body burned as the images changed to the not too distant future.

  A tiger stalked toward her with an ear-splitting roar.

  Lillian dropped his hand abruptly and struggled to catch her breath. She took a step back and flicked her gaze briefly to Boris, who stared at her through concerned eyes.

  “You sure do like tigers,” she huffed as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her jacket. She forced herself to look him in the eye even though she was experiencing a heady combination of fear, confusion, and lust. “I guess that’s something we have in common.”

  “I think that you and I will find we have much more in common than that.” He bowed, causing his thick dark hair to fall over his face, and peered at her again with those intense hazel eyes. “Good evening, Lillian. I’ll see you soon.”

  A smile curved his lips, and he held her gaze as the door closed. As he disappeared from her sight, she stilled when he whispered along the edges of her mind. Welcome home.

  The tiger tattoo on her back tingled, and the breath rushed from her lungs as she registered what she’d heard and what she’d seen.

  She was certain now that Boris was connected to the dreams she’d been having, but she wasn’t entirely sure how. Was he actually visiting in her dreams? The images she saw were always literal, but she’d never seen a person turn into an animal. She, better than anyone, knew that the world was full of strange and unusual gifts.

  “No way.” Lillian put her hands on her hips as she stood at the center of the apartment for several minutes. She shook her head and rubbed her lower back with one hand as the tattoo prickled. “I’m just overtired,” she mumbled. “Everyone said that New Orleans was the place for weirdos.”

  Looking at the large plush bed, she let out a giggle, ran over, and flopped herself on the mound of pillows face-first. Enveloped by the impossibly soft bed, she flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling, convincing herself that the voice she heard was merely her subconscious.

  Lillian sat up and scrambled off the bed t
o the front door of her new apartment. She flipped the lock, and as she stepped through the doorway, out onto the sidewalk, she took one last look at her new place before shutting the door.

  “Hell,” she said. “For four hundred bucks a month… I can handle a little bit of weird.”

  Chapter 3

  Standing in the shadows, he watched as Lillian stretched her arms over her head and wandered through the courtyard. She stopped at the fountain and arched her back, working out the kinks in her muscles. Her small breasts pointed up as if in invitation, and it was one he wanted to accept.

  She looked at the starry sky and let out a contented sigh. “That’s got to be the most gorgeous sight that I’ve ever seen.”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth,” Boris said.

  Startled, she spun around and let out a nervous laugh. “Boris, I didn’t see you there.”

  “So I see.”

  He tossed the dish towel onto a stack of crates outside the door and moved toward her. Her eyes widened, and her energy signature, which was surprisingly thick for a human, hummed with the unmistakable pulse of lust.

  “Have you settled into your apartment? Is there anything else that I can get for you?” He took another step. “Anything that you want?”

  As he moved toward her, he noted the way the light of the full moon picked up the pale blonde highlights in her tousled hair and gave her an angelic glow. Her large eyes held his as he closed the distance between them, and he sensed her heartbeat quickening as he invaded her space.

  “No,” she whispered. Her tongue darted out nervously, moistening her lower lip. “I’ve been on the road for a while, so I’m a little horny—I mean lonely,” she blurted. Her face turned beet red, and she smacked both hands over her eyes. “Holy shit. I can’t believe I just said that.”

  Boris suppressed a grin at her slip of the tongue. He took her hands in his and dragged them to his chest, pulling her small frame up against his far larger one.

  “I’m a bit of both, myself,” he murmured, but she kept her eyes squeezed shut and refused to look at him.