mode right now.
Her gaze lingered there for only a moment. But it was enough. Much, much more than enough. If what she’d seen was to be believed.
The moment her gaze moved back to his face, to the scene, air emptied from her lungs yet again. The aggression emanating from the men, the danger rising from him, hit her like a gut punch.
No one else seemed to sense the disturbance, kept gyrating and slithering over one another in oblivious abandon. Maybe she was the one whose senses were scrambled beyond repair?
No. She wasn’t imagining it. This would turn ugly. For him. And for who knew how many others in the packed place.
And like she made lightning decisions in the E.R., she made one now. She’d give aborting this a shot. She’d pretend she was with him, and that many others were joining them in moments. Maybe that would make those goons walk away.
Vidar’s heart shook off its slow steadiness once more, thudded.
She was moving toward him again. And after he’d given her a look that had given Loki’s child, Jörmungandr the world serpent itself, pause.
She must have misread it, must be oblivious to the danger.
And the advantage he’d gained by revealing his true stature was fading. The thugs were psyching themselves up that numbers would trump size and power. He had about a minute to take this away from her. From the rest of the mortals.
He moved before the Odinians could throng around him, force him to engage them here.
He strode toward her. That made her stop, the heat and greed in her eyes replaced with alarm. So she was aware of the danger. Then why had she kept approaching?
No time to contemplate this. And he expected her to step aside when he neared her. She didn’t. The brush-by he’d intended ended up being a bump and grind against her hot, pliant flesh.
For a split second, he almost forgot the thugs on his tail. He almost crushed that intoxicatingly scented body to him and took those lips that trembled apart on a hungry sound.
He shoved down the urge, resigned he wouldn’t fulfill it. Now or ever. He’d never see her again.
He’d tell her something, though.
The only thing he’d ever tell her.
He bumped into her. Kara would have fallen if she hadn’t had bodies at her back. She felt as if she’d run into a wall of hot steel. And what she smelled of him during that momentary contact was mouthwatering. Then he was bypassing her.
Before she could swallow the letdown, cry out something, ask if he needed help, he looked over his shoulder and his lips moved.
She shouldn’t have heard him over the cacophony. But she did. His hiss seemed to negate every other sound.
“Leave.”
She blinked as he receded toward the back exit of the nightclub with the grim tranquility of someone heading to a gunfight. And he’d told her to get while the getting was good.
The men were following him. Ten of them. The rabid gleam in their eyes was explicit with their intentions. They were going to tear him apart the moment they got him alone.
Her gaze shot around. Some dancers had noticed the ominous procession and were nudging one another and commenting. No one was bothering to investigate or intervene.
There might be nothing worth investigating. They might just rough him up a bit over a debt or something.
But even if that was true, ten to one? She wouldn’t leave anyone to face those odds alone. Hell, back in junior high, she hadn’t even left a tormenting bitch of a classmate alone with the schoolyard bully.
But someone who’d not only jump-started her dormant hormones, but paid her the kindness of worrying about her safety?
The last time someone had done that, they’d ended up dead.
Leave, huh? Good advice. She should take it.
And she would. If she were someone else.
She pushed her way through the crowd in her mystery man’s wake.
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