Vowed in Shadows Read Online Free Page A

between them on the chair seat and reared back, nearly overturning them. He stood, still clasping her close. With the weight of his body, he pinned her to the wall while he awkwardly adjusted his one-handed grip.
    Since the hook, he hadn’t held anyone he didn’t want to hurt.
    And this wasn’t exactly a grappling hold he could practice on his fellow fighters. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said aloud, but the demonic growl in his voice made that hard even for him to believe.
    Nim’s irises flared to a more violent purple in response, and she jackknifed against the wall, angling and weakening his hold. Obviously she wasn’t interested in what he had to say.
    Come to think of it, neither was he.
    â€œDance for me, Nim.” This time, he let the demonic double-lows ripple through his voice. He let her go and dropped into the chair. “Make me want it.”
    She landed in a crouch, one hand braced on the ground between her feet. But she didn’t run.
    She could no more escape than he could. No matter how much he hated the wicked thrill flowing through him, the pulsing, stiff flesh behind his fly pointing the way.
    His long, slow descent into hell had brought him here. But the dark twist inside him promised that now he might actually enjoy it.

CHAPTER 2
    Nim couldn’t stop her feverish shivers. What was happening to her? She’d stepped off the stage, knowing exactly what she was after—and the number of dollar signs that entailed—and he’d taken her plans away from her, one-handed.
    And now he held it out again. Not the wallet, which he’d tucked safely into his pocket. But the memories . . . those he’d yanked out of her with a single, fleeting touch against her scarred thigh.
    She’d shove the past down his throat.
    What else could she do? Nothing. She had nothing else. So she danced, no holds barred.
    The already tiny room shrank to the circle of his thighs. His heat thawed the chill that had invaded her, as if the perpetually struggling AC had decided to turn August into Arctic. Her tightened nipples sent a pang all the way through her body, and when she ran her hands over her breasts—same as she always did when the moment came to rock the crowd—her knees almost buckled and she moaned for real, a breathy sound too soft and weak for the stage.
    Oh, this was not good at all.
    It was too good. His blue eyes raked her with a sensation more intimate than any touch. God, who was he that he could do this to her? No man should be able to touch her. She’d made sure of that. Now everything she knew was breaking down, all the certainties she’d lived with. Ugly, they might have been, but they were hers, simple and constant.
    And all the while, he watched her as if waiting for her to finish breaking.
    Fuck that. He thought he could confuse her, mess with her head and from there control her body? Well, she’d seen— felt —that he wasn’t so calm and cool as he pretended. And if there was one thing she still knew, it was manipulating the body.
    She slithered over him, as close as Mobi twined around her during a dance. His eyes widened in momentary shock. She might have laughed, but her breath was gone as her thighs scraped over his jeans and her nipples dragged on the soft cotton of his T-shirt. She reveled in his heat and rubbed the length of him.
    When the chair wobbled, he put his arm around her. His hand landed on her ass, and she felt his chest heave under her as he gasped. He released her at once, so she rocked the chair again. The hook where his hand should have been thudded into the wall as he steadied them.
    â€œNim,” he warned.
    She sank her fingers into the blond waves of his hair. Somehow, in the nasty little room with its one lightbulb, his hair managed to shine like sunlit gold. No man had ever offered her gold.
    â€œYou wanted this,” she reminded him. “‘Dance,’ you