His Dark Bond by Anne Marsh

what she’d sound like when she came, “that I have research. A laboratory to run. You keep me here, and you destroy months’ worth of my work.” She huffed out a breath, her hands reaching up automatically to fix her hopeless chignon. “I’d be likelier to smuggle nuclear warheads into the heart of the White House. And last time the Russian legislature tried to do that, they failed.”
    Yeah, he remembered that particular bloodbath. Not as if his kind hadn’t had a hand in it. One of those damn Goblin favors, but having the politicians in your pocket was a useful thing.
    He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “Yeah. Like I said, not something I’m interested in. You want to use it for pillow talk, you go right ahead—after you choose one of my brothers.”
    She spat like a cat hitting water. “Look. I’ve dealt with your type before. My dean is a dick, pure and simple. He has no interest in answering academic questions—only thing he wants to hear from me is how he can line his pockets with as many research dollars as he can grab. I show him once and for all the commercial potential of my research, I’ve got him. Conversely, if he can’t see his way to making a buck, I’m dead in the water. No support. No lab. Nada. And your pulling me out of my lab right now isn’t helping me sell my case. Private backers—they’re going to hold me to the same standard.”
    “You want money, we can give you money.” Everyone—everything—had a price tag. He knew that better than most.
    She ignored him as if he was offering her a dead fish. “You know how long I’ve spent working on my research? I’ve tested the waters. Given papers. Sat on panels. I’m on to something, and I know it.”
    Right. He settled back, because he didn’t think she was going to stop anytime soon. No, she was just getting warmed up, and it seemed a shame to spoil her rant.
    “I’m not some consultant you can ‘borrow,’ Zer.” Hearing her say his name sent a little curl of satisfaction zinging through him, even if her next words were an unpleasant surprise. “I don’t want your checks. And I certainly didn’t want your interference. You think I don’t know precisely what would happen?” Those magnificent eyes narrowed. “You’ll take control. I’ll lose control. Money always ensures that equation.”
    Damn right he was taking control. And it had absolutely nothing to do with money.
    “Opening the funding tap?” she continued explaining in those low, modulated, sexy tones, her hands efficiently weaving and plaiting, restoring order. “That’s the same futile kettle of fish. You fucked this up. You brought me here.” Her hands dropped from the now-perfect-again hair, crossing over her chest. Yeah, if looks could kill, he’d have been well planted, because those eyes were measuring him for a coffin.
    “You fix it,” she demanded.
    “I could, baby—” He stretched slowly. “But I don’t want to.” He smiled, slow and hard. He decided he didn’t care if he scared the fuck out of her or not. “Make me.”
    Yeah, he was done negotiating. His professor needed to accept some cold, hard facts, no matter how unpalatable she found them. He came down over her, covering her on the bed to keep her in place. Of course, she bucked against him, as if she were big enough to throw him off. No chance of that. Threading his fingers through hers, he slowly drew her hands up over her head.
    “You listen to me now.” The perfect chignon was unraveling again, he noted with satisfaction. “You’re not in charge here. I am. And I think you like being kidnapped. Do you like to play sexy little games with your lovers, baby?”
    “No.” She glared up at him, shaking her head, so he captured both her wrists in one hand and threaded his free hand through that hair of hers. Checkmate, he thought with savage satisfaction. Just to prove his point, he lowered his mouth to hers, nipping at that naughty bottom lip of hers with a