Page 34 of Watch Me Burn
“I’ve heard about your wildlife sanctuary.” Cade pivots, guiding us away from the awkward tension my compliment created. “Damien tells me you’ve revolutionized rehabilitation techniques for injured animals.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Luna says, though she stands a little straighter. “But we’ve had some success with methods that minimize human imprinting duringtreatment. The goal is always to return them to the wild as true wild animals, not creatures dependent on humans. I don’t always succeed at that, though.”
Her face lights up as she speaks, and I’m transfixed. This is the same passion I see in her eyes when I’m with her in the dark, when she arches against me, when she begs for release. But this… this is different, too. Pure. Untainted by the deception I’ve woven between us.
“Cade, would you mind getting Luna a drink? I need to speak to the mayor about something.” I spot the politician across the room, then turn back to Luna. “I’ll introduce you to him later, but I need to speak about some business now, and I don’t want to bore you.”
“Of course.” Cade nods, understanding the subtext. This is my way of giving him a chance to spend time with Luna without me hovering like a possessive bastard. He holds out his arm to her. “Shall we?”
“Lead the way.”
I catch his eye and hold it for a beat longer than necessary.
You better fucking watch your step, Cade.
His mouth quirks upward, that rare, but familiar smirk that tells me he’s received the warning loud and clear.
My chest tightens with conflicting emotions as he leads her toward the bar. Part of me hates to see her walk away with another man, even Cade.
Though I trust Luna, and nothing he says will change my mind about her, I still need his opinion. No one reads people better than he does, and his investigative instincts are unparalleled.
Chapter ten
Luna
Cade leads me toward the bar as Damien disappears into the crowd, swallowed by the mass of tuxedos and evening gowns. My stomach tightens, watching him walk away. Part of me wants to stay glued to his side in this sea of unfamiliar faces and designer dresses, but I push the impulse aside and focus on Cade.
The man beside me is not what I expected when Damien told me about his COO on the helicopter ride. He could have walked straight out of a military recruitment poster. Tall, broad-shouldered, and as intense as, if not more so than, Damien, with steel-gray eyes that seem to catalog every detail about me in the span of a heartbeat. His handshake was firm but not crushing, his smile genuine but measured.
Damien told me he was ten years older, but if it weren’t for his head full of cropped salt and pepper hair and the crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes, I’d never have thought he was in his mid-to-late fifties. Like Damien, he’s handsome and has aged well. The kind of man who gets better with time instead of just older.
He guides me through the throng of guests with confident, controlled movements. People part for him, though I notice several women giving him appreciative glances. He seems oblivious to the attention, his focus on navigating us through the crowd.
“So, what’s your poison?” He asks as we reach the bar, gesturing to the impressive array of top-shelf liquor. “I’d suggest something strong to deal with this crowd.”
I consider the options, then decide to go with my instincts. “Whiskey. Neat.”
His eyebrows rise, and for the first time, his smile reaches his eyes. “Make that two,” he tells the bartender.
The amber liquid burns as it slides down my throat, warming me from the inside out. Cade watches me drain half the glass without flinching, and I catch the subtle dip of his chin, like I’ve passed some kind of test I didn’t know I was taking.
“You’re not what I expected.” He swirls his own drink.
“What did you expect?”
“Someone more…” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Delicate. Damien described you as fierce, but most people hear ‘veterinarian’ and picture someone gentle.”
“I am gentle. With animals.” I take another sip. “Humans are a different story.”
His laugh is low, rumbling from deep in his chest. “I can see why Damien likes you.”
The way he says it makes me pause. I study his face. At the same time, his gaze travels across my features—forehead, cheekbones, and jaw. Not hostile, but not warm either.
I take a sip of my drink. “How long have you worked for him?”
He leans against the bar, casual but alert. “Twenty-five years, give or take. We met when I was fresh out of the Army.”
“What kind of work do you do for him? I mean, I know about the security systems, but Damien mentioned you run all his businesses.”
