Nathan stood there as the couple excused themselves and strolled away hand in hand.
Jordana Gates was there right now, upstairs in the estate. Helping Carys collect her belongings, a task that would likely keep Jordana under the same roof as Nathan for the next couple of hours at least.
Christ.
He pivoted abruptly and stalked down the corridor in the opposite direction of Chase and Tavia, toward the passage that would lead him to the weapons room.
It was about as far away from the living quarters of the mansion as he could get. A few hours of physical training was just what he needed. Hell, the way his blood was churning through his veins now, he might not come up for air until the night’s patrol was ready to head out.
With any luck, by the time he surfaced, Carys and her new roommate would be long gone.
5
JORDANA BLEW OUT A SIGH AS SHE CAME TO A STOP IN A LONG, empty corridor—one of many confusing arteries in the Chases’ sprawling estate.
Had Carys said to turn left-left-right-left once she was in the Order’s command center wing of the mansion, or left-right-left-left?
Shit.
A simple quest to fetch more packing tape for her friend had now delivered Jordana deep into the warriors’ domain. It wasn’t like she’d wanted to be there. Not when the odds of encountering Nathan in that part of the mansion seemed a bit too likely for her peace of mind.
But Carys had been insistent. She’d made it seem like no big thing at all: “Just run down to the central supply room and grab another roll of tape for me, will you? Take you not even ten minutes round trip, and I’ll have this box of shoes ready to go by the time you get back.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jordana was still wandering the corridors, becoming more turned around with each step she took.
She was sure she’d followed Carys’s directions correctly …
Whether she did or not, she was definitely in the wrong place now. Ahead of her at the far end of the passageway was a set of steel double doors with a security access panel mounted to the right of them on the wall. Above the doors, the dark, unblinking eye of a surveillance camera stared down at her.
“Dammit, Carys,” she whispered. “Next time you have a fool’s errand to run, you’re doing it yourself.”
Jordana edged backward a few steps, hoping she didn’t look as uncomfortable or idiotic as she felt to whoever might be monitoring the corridor. Then again, it was probably too late to worry about that. She just needed to get out of there, before she wandered any farther afield.
Spinning on her heel, she hurried back the way she came. She was jogging at a good clip by the time she reached the end of the hallway and rounded the corner—
Only to run full tilt into a wall of unmovable, warm flesh and bone.
Nathan.
Oh, God.
He caught her by her upper arms, muttering a curse that didn’t sound happy to see her either. “I might’ve guessed,” he growled, more to himself than her. “Never did have much faith in luck.”
Jordana struggled to find her voice for a second. “Excuse me?”
Caught in his grasp with only inches between them, she stood there immobile, her hands splayed on his broad chest. Though he was wearing a T-shirt, her palms burned with the heat rolling off the firm planes and bulges of his body beneath the soft black cotton that covered him.
His eyes bored into her, and she realized she never knew what color they were until now. Deep, greenish blue, they looked like the sky just before the arrival of a brutal storm.
That same dark, arresting stare had held her across the room of the museum last night.
Demanding.
Possessive.
Even now, she found it hard to tear herself away from Nathan’s unnerving gaze. “I, um … I was looking for packing tape for Carys,” she blurted. “She gave me directions for the supply room, but I must be lost.”
He grunted, one black brow lifting almost imperceptibly.
Jordana rushed on, hating how he unsettled her. “Usually when I’m here at the mansion, I keep to the residential areas.”
“As you should,” he said. “You don’t belong down here.”
The words were rough gravel, a deep rumble that vibrated through her spread fingers, which were still pressed against his chest.
The low thunder of his voice traveled into her limbs. Into the suddenly quivering center of her body.
Jordana yanked her hands away from him, cradling her crossed fists to her breast. “I’m just … I’m going to go now, then.”
God help her, but he kept on staring at her, watching her dangle on the strings of her own unease around him. His harsh, handsome face was so unreadable, she wondered if he was actually looking at her or through her.
The way he studied her, Jordana felt … exposed. She felt stripped and vulnerable under his penetrating eyes. Completely at his mercy.
His dark eyes drifted to her mouth and she was instantly reminded of the kiss they shared. Well, not shared exactly, considering she was the one who’d done all the kissing.
Nathan had stood there much the way he was now, rock solid, unshakable.
Maddeningly cool and in control.
Jordana wondered how he did it—how he could seem so unaffected yet hold her in a gaze that made her instincts come alive with an anticipation bordering on the profane. Ever fiber in her body was tuned to him, even though her head was telling her to run away. Telling her to avoid this dangerous man and the dark temptations that lurked in his stormy eyes.
What did her senses know about Nathan that her mind had not yet grasped?
Maybe if she kissed him again, she could figure out what it was about this Breed male that had her so flustered and confused.