Chapter 5

What does one call an after effect of paralysis? When blood courses through like a ritual only to find there's nowhere to go? She felt about the same. Vanessa Flynn was screwed tight, a step inside the office, someone had bolted her there with a nail. She was facing him.  HIM. Oh she knew his name alright. How could she not? Her wolf had been on edge last given their proximity. Now, it howled. It wasn't recognition of any sort. Just that, in twenty three years of her life, nobody had held her rapt attention the way this gorgeous man did. 

His hair reflected sunlight, a complexion of hazy brown and twinges of black. His crumpled suit was the vestige of a long day. Or night. He hadn't changed. What pissed her off then and there was the vulgar air of confidence he exuded. Never mind the appropriate dress up. She thought he was a walking epitaph to disclaim the 'vain' in vanity. For he didn't care how presentable he looked. But then why should he? 

Noah Abel willed his thoughts, those running amok, to settle down. His curiosity had ten hours to mutate, and maybe that's how much time they needed to turn into amusement and  persuasion. The pixie-like, fair and pale complexion, whom he had to look down upon just to make eye contact, somehow held him in a fist for a moment last night when she was pure anger. And now, her presence made her anger seem righteous, and he didn't like it one bit. Striking olive green eyes paired with her dress reaching her knees, made her appear modest as opposed to last night's wreck. 

He knew she was blushing because Mikhail had caught on the rush of blood under her veins just as he had. They were intimidating her,  he knew. But it was always good to confirm his suspicions in relation to other people and how predictable they were. He was a cocky bastard that way. His and Mikhail's thought process ran parallel. They both had made an educated guess, last night's performative bravery began and ended there. She was like a cornered mouse. He didn't think her meek, no. Vulnerable? Absolutely. 

The strength of his jaw, that uppity aristocratic nose and noble cheek bones lead to a broad forehead. The only imperfection she gathered in her shameless examination was a cut eyebrow. She frowned at that. He was looking at her now. With interest that her wolf opened its paws to, extending its claws, like a hook hoping to catch a bait. His lips were a tad wider than his mouth had asked for, but her days could easily spread along their longitude, they looked that inviting. Everything did, except his eyes.

Jaded black and cold. Not cold like the snow storm in winter, whose origin coldness can be traced. This was stone cold, like the moon's surface. She could imagine it- rupturing people oxygen less. He was doing it to her. In response, an involuntary shiver raked her body. Mikhail mistook the reason to be the weather. 

"Why don't you sit down Vanessa?" Mikhail offered her a chair. Soon enough, the three of them were seated looking at each other willing someone to break the impertinent silence. If this was a tactic to turn her insides to the mush, it was working, Vanessa thought. So she broke it first.

"You asked for me. And I am here. Why am I here Mikhail?" 

Noah tapped the silver dial of his Rolex. The pixie was direct. He can appreciate that. She didn't realize she was tilting her chin up, as if daring his second in command to acknowledge last night. He preyed on the opportunity. 

"Miss Flynn. Allow me. Yesterday was a mistake on both our parts. The incident is undergoing investigation as we speak. I am sure we agree we could have reacted better. Now, matters more pressing need to be discussed."

See? Her wolf went strolling at the danger of being right. Vanessa was treading in uncharted waters and she would drown. But what else could she do? She swallowed all her questions. She could let go for the sake of her sanity. 

But him addressing her as Ms. Flynn didn't bring about the respect. He hadn't meant to be respectful. Just politely distant. She hoped she could extend him the same courtesy. 

His words pounced on her confusion.

"Mikhail tells me you need a job, for you have a debt to pay. Bartending at weekends won't cut it. I find myself in need of an… attendant, so to speak. Someone who isn't part of a pack. Our affinity to gossip, it turns out, brings us more fame these days. It's good that your mind linking is limited to your family alone. It's good pay."

It was. She had nearly forgotten the man beside her, still like a statue watching this interaction. He laid down a sheet of paper with just a number on it. A great deal more than her four side jobs and she'd have the security, because call it boon or bane, Noah Abel needed something she had. She need not think a moment more. 

"Yes." Quiet, timid, olive greens wide and staring back at him. Noah was not prone to flattery, but he liked how she addressed him and not Mikhail. His blood singed. He liked the easy acquisition. Now, only one obstacle remained. 

What he did dislike, was the incipient onset of wanting to see someone like Vanessa Flynn, impervious to the effect she had on him, blossom like the apples in his orchid only for his eyes and appetite, to pluck apart and devour.