Love Like Cyanide-chapter 6
Alpha idol paranormal romance
Chapter 6: Natalie
Haven is doing better than I expected. He seems to be recovering quickly, so whatever the issue was last night, it hopefully won't be repeated. Ryker and Sterling are the easiest bodies of the bunch, as always. They are the best at listening when I give them exercises and stretches to do.
I have to get my stepladder out to work on Everest and Kannon. Even with them seated on my treatment table, as low to the ground as it can go, the tops of their heads are higher than mine. They're both easily over seven feet tall. That's at least two feet taller than I am. They dwarf me even worse than Dante does.
I'd say it's embarrassing, but height is one thing that a person really can't control about their body. Having to reach above my head to work on them is the opposite of ergonomically friendly, so the stepladder is the best solution. Otherwise, they'd have to just sit on the floor.
That leaves me with the last two. The ones I'm dreading the most. Dante and Valentine.
As Everest leaves, Dante takes his place. The sight of him in his stage makeup and performance clothes hits me in an unexpected way, right in the gut. Is he a gorgeous man? Yes. And he always has been.
But this is different. This is visceral, and just looking at him takes the air right out of my lungs. Emerald eyes glitter with mischief, and I'm a mouse enraptured by the gaze of the serpent that devours the world. He taps a finger to the side of his lips and says something, but it’s just static to my brain.
“What?” I murmur.
“Ground control to Nat. Come back to us. You’re drooling, Doc.” Snarky, as always, but somehow it feels like it’s lacking in the vitriol I’m used to.
My cheeks are burning, but I straighten my stance and gesture to my table. “I am not. And I see that you have chosen death by elbow, today.”
He shrugs off his jacket and sits on the table with a sigh, tantalizingly toned and bare arms on display like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I do my damnedest to ignore the sinuous curve of his triceps, the rounded prominence of his deltoids, the way his veins stand out against the lean muscles, just beneath the skin.
“You’re such a demon with your elbows, though. Don’t beat me up too much.”
I shake my head to clear my thoughts, glad he’s seated in front of me so he can’t see the effect being near him has on me. “I’ll beat you up as much as is necessary. What needs working on, before you head out there? We’ve only got about fifteen minutes.”
He shrugs. “Nothing’s really terrible.” Under his breath he says, “Even though things should be achier, after last night.” I flick the back of his shoulder, and he flinches with a little laugh. “Sorry… Just this stupid left shoulder, like usual. You know it hasn’t been the same since I fucked it up last year, before they brought you on.”
“Got it.”
We go through some warm-up stretches, and I work out a knot buried just under the edge of his shoulder blade, having to dig in a bit with my knuckles. Dante lets out a sound that’s close to a whimper, heavily sighing with relief as the muscles around it go slack once the knot breaks down. I give his shoulder a few slow shakes, dragging my fingers down his arm and having to step back to accommodate the length of it and be able to work my way to his hand. I flex and bend his wrist, manipulating his fingers until I feel the crunching in his joints fade.
I pause and look down at our hands together, still taken aback by the fact that his one hand dwarfs both of mine combined.
“Natalie…” I look up at him from closer than I realized we were. My name on his lips sounds reverent. Soft, treasured, whispered like a prayer.
His other hand cups my cheek and he leans in for a kiss, gentle and tender. No man should be able to have lips this soft… Tears well up in my eyes, and my chest feels tight. I shouldn’t be feeling like this towards him after one night together, when he’s always been such a thorn in my side.
I step closer to him, resting my hands on his knees and leaning into the kiss. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. We’ll blame it on the heat hormones. That must be it.
“Whoa! Am I early? Sorry!”
Dante and I separate immediately at the sound of Valentine’s voice. The cloth door slides shut and the two of us are alone together for a moment.
“Fuck,” I murmur under my breath.
“That’s how we got into this mess in the first place,” Dante agrees quietly. He gets to his feet and stretches, putting his jacket back on. His professional mask slides back into place along with it.
I fan my face to cool the burning sensation that’s becoming a permanent staple, when he’s around.
“We need to have a chat later. About things.” He says, managing to seem cool and collected, even though I can practically hear his panicked heartbeat.
I give him a nod. “You’re seated next to me for the flight out of here. We can discuss it then.”
He bows his head lightly in response and leaves, ignoring Valentine’s attempts to get his attention as he walks out. I busy myself with wiping down the table, despite the fact that nobody’s skin touched it. Force of habit. Nervous habit. Busy hands mean I’m less likely to babble like an idiot.
As Valentine prowls into the treatment area, the way he walks is sinuous, predatory. He’s confident, and that energy flows off him in waves, even if you can’t get drunk off his pheromones. He’s not quite stocky, but he’s shorter than Dante and his muscles are twice as thick. You wouldn’t think he could dance with how ripped he is, but you’d be sorely mistaken.
“Hey, Val.” I greet him, doing my best to play it cool. If I don’t mention what he just saw, maybe he won’t, either. “What can I do for you, today? Anything specific that needs my attention?”
He appraises me from a few feet away, powerful arms crossed over a chest that’s barely contained in a black compression top with fishnet sleeves. “You’re just digging that hole deeper, with the way you talk, Doc.”
I sputter. “W-what do you mean?”
He comes closer to me, one slow step at a time until my ass bumps into the side of my table, and I grip the edge of it, ready to knock it over and run if I need to. I know I couldn’t take any of the members of Inferno in a fight without an equalizer, and I’m starting to question my life choices.
He braces his hands on either side of my hips on the table, the material creaking in protest at his intrusion. Leaning in close enough that I can see the shades of orange glittering in his brown eyes, he asks softly, “What if I said that all of me needs your attention, Natalie? Every. Last. Inch.”
My eyes go wide at the boldness of his statement. I swallow hard, but my voice manages to come out steady. “I’d say that’s entirely too much to fit into a fifteen-minute session.”
He chuckles, an open invitation shining in his dark eyes. “You’re right. It’ll definitely take all night.”
I’m conflicted. We won’t count the number of times I dreamed of a scenario just like this one. I’ve wanted Valentine’s hands on me, and in me, since the first time I worked on them. The raw strength coiled in his fingers, the speed and control when he’s playing guitar or composing on a piano…
But my professional brain is in the driver’s seat. “That’s not going to work when you’ve got a curtain call to make in ten minutes.” I kick myself for saying it, but it’s the right decision.
He tilts his head a bit and gives me a small smirk. “You mean to tell me that a kiss for good luck isn’t a new addition to the service package?”
I feel my cheeks heating under his gaze, but I keep my cool otherwise. I’m glad he doesn’t really have wolf ears, or he’d be able to hear my heart trying to burst through my ribs at the mere idea of kissing him.
“It’s not.”
“Shame,” he fires back.
“You wouldn’t want sloppy seconds after that dickhead, anyway.” Valentine’s responding laughter rubs against me in all the right places, just like I wish his flesh could.
He lifts my chin with the tips of two fingers, the light caress and his next words sending a chill down my spine. “I don’t mind if it’s him, but I’ll get here first next time, if that’s how you want it.”
His lips brush against mine, the ghost of a kiss leaving my skin tingling and aching for more. He traces the path his lips took with the pad of his thumb. Eyes filled with fire and yearning meet mine, and it’s a struggle not to look away first.
“Come cheer us on, okay?”
My brain isn’t braining. The words are not wording. Finally, I manage a nod and a small smile, and Valentine moving out of my personal space leaves an agonizing coldness that I don’t have time to analyze. Curtain’s in less than five, and I need to find Jane stage-side to secure my normal observation perch.
Chapter 7»