Marked - By Elisabeth Naughton Page 0,1

was all she could see. And that face? Greek god came to mind, with that olive skin, the shoulder-length hair the color of midnight and those black-as-sin eyes. But it was the way he was looking back at her that really threw her off guard. Like he recognized her but couldn’t place her. Like they’d met, but the idea didn’t thrill him. Like she was the last person on the planet he wanted to be staring at right now.

“Jesus,” one of the college kids behind her exclaimed. “Are you brain-dead or what?”

Oh, damn. Those stupid college kids.

She was just about to turn to defuse the situation, but the Greek god beat her to it, shooting them a withering look that could have turned flesh to stone. The kid’s smartass mouth snapped shut, and the comments died behind her. Neither of his friends piped up to berate her more.

And for the first time all night, a little of Casey’s headache dissipated. She wanted to turn and look at the stupefied expressions on the troublemakers’ faces, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the man in front of her. He must have noticed her staring, because he cast another bewildered look her way, then gave his head a swift shake and headed off to the other side of the club.

And it wasn’t until he was all the way across the room that she finally drew in a breath.

Holy cow. What was that?

Her lungs suddenly seemed one size too small. She sucked in air, rubbed a hand over her brow and tried to regulate her breathing as she continued to stare. He stopped at a booth near the back wall, and though Casey couldn’t see his face, it was clear he was talking to someone seated in front of him.

Someone who was female and blonde and petite and who had come in alone a half hour ago, then slinked into the shadows to watch the show.

At the time, Casey hadn’t paid the woman much mind. Occasionally women came into the club alone. But now she did. Now that her hero in black had zeroed in on the blonde beauty, Casey definitely wanted to know more about each of them.

“You gonna stare all night or get busy?”

The voice at her back shook Casey from the fog brewing in her head. Turning, she pulled her attention to the three college kids, studying her like she was a complete moron, their irritation with her obviously usurping the earlier intimidation from her mystery man. The tray wobbled in her hand, but she caught it before the half-empty glasses spilled again.

“So sorry,” Casey muttered, grabbing a rag from her tray and mopping up the mess on their table. What was wrong with her? “I apologize.”

“Geez,” the blond muttered, shaking beer from his fingers. “What are you, mentally challenged or something?”

Casey ignored the comment and finished cleaning the table. “I’ll get you three more beers—on the house, of course.”

“Damn right,” the one to her right snapped, as he turned to look back at the stripper dancing a few feet from him up on stage.

She ignored that too as she finished grabbing empties, then glanced toward the hulking shadow several tables over.

“Those guys giving you trouble?” Nick Blades asked as she drew close.

“No more trouble than normal.” Carefully, Casey picked up the wadded napkins on his table and dropped them on her tray. He was nearly as big as the Greek god, but that’s where the similarities ended. Nick’s blond hair was cut military short, he sported a series of strange tattoos and piercings, and it was hard not to stare at the jagged scar that ran down the left side of his face from temple to jaw. He always sat in her section, and though she’d told herself a thousand times he was harmless, a part of her just couldn’t convince herself of that. She’d been there. She’d seen what he could do. And though she was grateful, she didn’t want to see it again.

He watched her carefully, but she didn’t make eye contact. “You seemed a bit distracted there.”

Casey’s hand paused as she thought back to the hulking Greek god, and warmth spread up her cheeks as she went back to cleaning Nick’s table. It made perfect sense a guy like that would glance right past her and go after a looker like the woman in the corner. Men didn’t generally notice stick-skinny Amazon women when curvy, petite blondes were anywhere close.

“You want another one, Nick?”

At his silence,