"Carys Chase," Nathan announced firmly.
"Excuse me?" She frowned now, swallowed visibly. "No, I'm Jor - "
"I know who you are. I'm here for Carys Chase. I would speak with the female. Now."
Alarm bled into Jordana Gates's striking features. "Is . . . is anything wrong? Why would you think she's - "
Using the power of his mind, Nathan threw open the locked iron barrier. "I know she's here."
Jordana took a step backward as he entered uninvited. She shot an anxious look over her shoulder, raising her voice to a level that would, no doubt, be heard all the way to the back of the expansive residence. "She's not here, and I don't appreciate the Order barging into my home unannounced."
Nathan felt the corner of his mouth quirk, not so much in humor as in mild annoyance that this Darkhaven-raised socialite would imagine she could interfere with his purpose. He advanced another pace, but this time, instead of retreating, the Breedmate blocked his path.
"No," she said, planting her spiked heels firmly in front of him. "No. You can't just stomp through my private residence as if you own the place."
He cocked his head, perplexed and somewhat annoyed at her lack of fear and her continued resistance. "Carys Chase!" he roared, his voice rumbling high into the domed ceiling of the vestibule.
Jordana stepped in closer. "I said you're not welcome here. I want you to leave at once. I mean it."
His annoyance morphed into disbelief as she got right up in his face, totally uncowed by him. "I will not let you take one more step into my home, warrior."
Nathan couldn't bite back his chuckle. "Female, unless you've got an army of bodyguards camped out in your salon, just how do you intend to prevent me?"
He started to take a firm step forward, and so did she. But instead of pushing him or screaming for help, Jordana Gates did something even more surprising.
She kissed him.
Without any warning at all, her lips were on his, her fingers gripping his shoulders, her br**sts mashed against his chest.
For a very long moment, Nathan stood frozen, utterly stupefied. The warmth of her mouth, the softness of her body, the way her lips were melting against his . . . all of it combined into a tempest of sensation he was ill-equipped to deal with, even under the best circumstances. Hand-to-hand combat and stealth executions, no problem. But this was a situation well beyond his skill set and training.
He wasn't a virgin - not even close. But the impersonal encounters he preferred to seek out never involved touching or embracing or kissing.
In that moment, Jordana Gates couldn't have shocked him more if she'd pulled his 9-mm out of its holster on his hip and shot him point blank in the chest.
So much so, he wasn't even aware they were no longer alone in the room, until he heard the low sound of a male clearing his throat somewhere nearby.
Abruptly, Nathan disengaged from Jordana's hold on him and put a healthy distance between them. Her oceanic blue eyes were wide, pupils enlarged, deepening the Caribbean azure of her gaze before the kiss to a stormy turquoise now. She brought her hand up to her mouth and backed off quickly, moving to the safety of her friend's side in the living room adjacent to the vestibule.
Beautiful, cultured Carys Chase stood there beside swarthy, dangerous Rune, her fingers linked through his. "Are you all right, Jordana?" she whispered. Then, to Nathan, with no gentleness in her voice at all: "Why did you come here? Why the hell did you just assault Jordana? Tell me what's going on!"
The other Breedmate shook her pale blond head, mute. Even Nathan had trouble summoning his voice for a second. He leveled a cold look on Rune. "That's what I've come here to find out: What the hell is going on?"
Rune held his stare, his dark eyes unflinching. "Just visiting friends on a rare night off from the job. I assume there's no law against that."
"Make no mistake, you and I will talk later about what you think you're doing with this female," Nathan replied. He slanted a hard look at Carys, adding "We'll talk too." To which her chin went up a notch, impertinent, unrepentant. "Right now, I'm here to talk about the friend you met last night at the club," he said to Rune.
The Breed fighter got a strange look on his face, but it lasted only a fraction of a second before he shuttered it with a mask of indifference. "Don't have any idea what you mean."
"That's not what Cassian just told me a few minutes ago when I was there," Nathan countered. "He said you had a visit from a rebel piece of shit called Bowman."
Now Rune chuckled, and from what Nathan could tell, his denial was genuine. "You've been misinformed, my man. I'm not gonna try to guess what game Cass is playing with you, but I don't hang with rebels. And I don't know anyone by that name."
"Really? Cassian told me Bowman was at La Notte last night with Mira." Rune's expression seemed to turn a bit stonier now. "Cassian says you spoke with them for a while in your dressing room."
"That's a lie," Carys interjected, her caramel-brown hair swinging as she gave a vehement shake of her head. "Rune didn't have anyone in his dressing room last night . . . except for me."
Nathan's curse drifted from between his flatly pressed lips. His dismay over that news flash was only slightly less than what it would be for Carys's parents or her twin brother. "Obviously, someone's lying to me right now," Nathan said. "And I'll warn you all just once that I do not have time for bullshit."
Rune stared at him, assessing. Almost suspicious. "Sounds like the Order's got some trouble on their hands."