Nocturnal Urges (Nocturnal Urges, Book One) by Elizabeth Donald Page B

Fiona,” he said dully, and Fiona muttered something in another language.
    Isabel finally managed to say something. “Water,” she croaked, and Ryan was there, pressing a cup to her cracked lips. She sipped a little, and suddenly her mouth was working again.
    “He’s not fired,” she croaked, trying to lift her head.
    Fiona hovered into view, a severe gray business suit masking her generous curves. “I am so sorry, Miss Nelson,” she said. “This has not happened…”
    “Since the sixties, I heard,” Isabel rasped. “He’s not fired. It’s not his fault.”
    Fiona shot a look at Ryan.
    “I moved,” Isabel said. “He didn’t mean for it to go that far. I moved, he slipped; it was an accident.”
    Fiona shook her head, her red hair glinting in the fluorescent lights above her. “I don’t allow accidents in my place, Miss Nelson.”
    Isabel thought for a moment. “If you fire him, I’ll sue,” she said, smiling a little. “Keep him and I won’t.”
    Ryan gaped at her. Fiona sputtered for a moment, seeming undecided whether to glare at Isabel or at Ryan. “Fine then,” she said. “He’s on probation. Get better, dear.” She swept out of the room as grandly as if she still had the long skirts of her Nocturnal Urges evening gowns.
    Ryan held the cup to her lips again, and she drank gratefully. “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured.
    “Yes, I did,” Isabel said, and reached up to his free hand. She felt that electricity again, but muted this time, a vibration beneath the skin rather than thrumming heat.
    Ryan shook his head. “I never lost control before, and you barely moved,” he murmured. “I can’t understand it.”
    Gently he brushed a lock of her hair away from her face.
    “Get the fuck away from her,” snapped a voice from the doorway. Ryan’s hand jerked away from her face, and when he moved away, she saw Duane in the doorway.
    Duane strode across the small room and shoved Ryan hard. Isabel struggled to get up. “Duane, stop it,” she tried to shout, but it came out weak and thin.
    Ryan backed away, his hands held up to protect but careful not to show any offensive moves, she realized.
    “Duane, I’m all right,” she said, and Duane stopped moving toward Ryan.
    “You’re not all right,” he said. “This fucking leech…”
    Ryan’s eyes flashed for a moment, but his hands remained still.
    “Stop it, Duane,” Isabel said, grateful that some steadiness had returned to her voice. “It was my fault.”
    “Bullshit,” Duane said. “These things aren’t supposed to bite unwilling women, they’re—”
    “I paid him,” Isabel said.
    Duane whirled around, staring at her. “You went back? Alone?”
    She nodded, ignoring a twinge of pain from her neck. “I wanted to try it again,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
    Duane gaped at her. “You can’t go alone,” he said.
    “Why not?” Isabel asked, feeling defensive. “You do, don’t you?”
    Duane flushed, and she saw she’d hit a nerve. “Not for a while,” he said.
    “I’m sorry,” Ryan said again, and moved toward the door. “I hope you get well quickly, Miss Nelson.”
    Somehow, hearing her name so formally stung Isabel. She wanted to say something to him, but somehow it was different with Duane in the room. Ryan disappeared through the door.
    “Are they going to let you go home?” Duane asked.
    Isabel nodded. “I think so, it was just a little accident,” she said.
    “There are no accidents with those things,” Duane growled.
    “Stop that,” Isabel said. “If you hate them so much, why did you take me there?”
    “Hey, I don’t hate them,” Duane said. “A leech can’t help its nature. Use them for what they’re good at, but you don’t forget what they are.”
    Isabel shook her head, struggling to sit up. Duane moved to help her. “They’re not leeches,” she said. “They’re people.”
    Duane shook his head, smiling in that condescending manner that made her