The Betrothed
Fallen Angel

Excerpt

An unbelievable amount of money landed onstage. Shade did not touch it. He allowed the bouncers to retrieve it, then handed both men substantial tips. After the initial yet erotic shock of learning her physical therapist lover worked part time as a stripper, Brie learned the money was not why Shade worked there. He earned a good wage working at City General and didn't need the extra cash. Shade performed for the sheer joy of the dance and the sensuality of the movement.

Brie, mesmerized by his grace, allowed the crowd a moment to bask in his glory. He smiled at the patrons who sought his attention. There was no ego involved in his acceptance of their desire. She realized Shade knew he was attractive. She also knew, as she grew to understand him over the last few months, he did not take his good looks seriously because he understood the transitory nature of the physical body. Nothing lasted forever therefore he accepted the form given to him as a part of who he was as a human being, but did not allow it to define him. Always gracious though he crouched down and shook some of the more adamant women's hands. This was the only time he allowed the patrons to touch him. Another fact that impressed Brie was she learned Shade donated all cash earned at Paradise to Father Donovan Kenny at St. Jude's Parish. The tiny priest was Shade's friend and mentor, a man for whom he carried deep respect.

"You're so beautiful," Brie whispered. Her heart opened to him and she inhaled. She could swear she detected his scent and the erotic thought pulled her from her position toward the stage.

Shade's head turned, lifted. His gaze landed in her direction, seemed to find her in the over-stimulated crowd. Brie startled. It was as if he knew she arrived. Her heart pounded in syncopated rhythm to the background music. It was so crowded toward the stage area she needed an escort and she searched for Moana, the giant Samoan bouncer who was head of security for the club. Within seconds, Moana found her and wrapped a beefy hand around her arm. He pushed through the throng of women as they clapped to the beat of another song to introduce the next dancer and within seconds, they approached a side entrance door.

"Thanks," Brie smiled. He grimaced in return, which she realized was his idea of a grin.

Once through the door, she paused for a moment to allow her eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness of the interior. It didn't take her long to find him. Shade seemed in deep conversation with one of the female dancers, a petite Asian woman dressed in a short red sequined sheath dress and matching red platform stilettos. She stroked Shade's arm. He stopped her, removed her hand in gentle rejection.

A rush of possessiveness slammed Brie in the chest. She strutted forward, hands in her jean pockets. The idea of ripping the woman's hair extensions out of her head occurred to her, but she realized she would have a hard time explaining her actions to fellow police employees when she was booked on battery charges.

"You were awesome tonight, baby, they loved you," crooned Vanessa as she reached to run her hand along Shade's washboard stomach. Brie clenched her jaw in irritation. She cracked her neck in an effort to relax. Her gaze raked the diminutive stripper over burning coals.

Vanessa must have received a clue something was wrong when Shade stepped away from her because she paused, then turned around to follow Shade's gaze. Brie noted the stripper's eyes grew wide at her approach. In a show of what Brie recognized as street bravado, Vanessa crossed her arms in front of her chest, bobbed her head on her slender neck from side to side. Brie thought the dancer looked like a sparrow doused in the dyed red sugar people put on their Christmas cookies.

"Wassup, Brie?" Vanessa's cocky tone rolled from a mouth filled with gold plated teeth.

"Not him, Vanessa." Brie replied. Her voice carried a dangerous finality to it.

Vanessa uncrossed her arms, turned to look at Shade. When no assistance arrived from that quarter, she threw up her hands. "Whatevah, I gotta bounce."

Brie watched the stripper run away as fast as her little feet could carry her. She turned to Shade. His eyes flashed to yellow gold and a thrill of desire blasted through her. Their ability to change on a dime still filled her with amazement, but she had long ago accepted it was a unique trait of her lover.

Stepping forward with jaguar grace, Shade grabbed her by the lapels of her leather jacket. He pulled her into him, plunged his mouth over hers, his need of her evident.

He was the deluge to her thirst. It was as if she had wandered in a desert and found an oasis. She collapsed towards him, returned his fervor with desperate desire. Her knees weakened. Shade lifted Brie into his arms, carried her to his dressing room.

He locked the door behind him and placed her on a sheepskin rug. He straddled her hips and removed her jacket, tossed it on a sofa across from his dressing table. Shade moved his hands in a smooth caress over her arms, trailed his fingers down to her belt buckle.

Brie shook her head. "Now," she demanded. She was in no mood for foreplay, wanted him inside her before she burst into flames. Tonight was about need, about demand, about pure primitive mating.