Now that went well.
Phil frowned at the space Vanda had just vacated. Her scent lingered, something sweet and flowery like jasmine. He suspected it came from the gel she used to spike up her hair, but he might never get close enough to know. She was as fierce as a wildcat, hissing and showing her claws if anyone got too close. That alone made her intriguing. Combine it with stormy gray eyes, sweet lips, porcelain skin, and luscious curves, and the result was a woman who could destroy a man without ever laying a finger or a fang on him.
Entice, then push away. She'd done that for five long years while he'd worked as part of the security team at Roman's townhouse. Harmless flirtation, she'd called it, whenever his boss, Connor, had fussed at her. It had never been flirtation. Nor harmless. It was torture.
He'd always acted with honorable restraint. Honorable, he thought with a snort. That just meant he'd lusted for her in private.
When she'd left Roman's townhouse three years ago, he'd tried to forget about her and move on with his life. Unfortunately, seeing her tonight had unleashed years of pent-up, unrequited lust. All the memories flooded back. Memories of her teasing looks, flirtatious words, and light touches on his arms and chest. God help him, he still wanted her. He wanted her something fierce.
This time it would be different. He wasn't her guard anymore. Let her try that "harmless flirtation" with him now. A few scratches from her sharp claws wouldn't scare him away. He closed his eyes, imagining her soft, naked body beneath his, and her raw, explosive emotions erupting in a frenzy of passion. Yeah, that was the best way to cure her anger problem. He'd turn the raging tiger into a cuddly little kitty. She would be so wild and so sweet-
A door clicked shut, and Phil's eyes snapped open. Shit. He carefully refrained from looking down at the bulge in his trousers. "Father Andrew. Good to see you again."
"Mr. Jones." The priest extended a hand.
He shook it. "Call me Phil."
"Phil, then. Thank you for agreeing to sponsor Vanda."
"Glad to help." How could he have refused her? She'd looked so fierce and defiant when no one would sponsor her. Was he the only one who could see how desperately she had covered up the pain of rejection?
"I tried to help her before," Father Andrew said, "but obviously I failed to get through that thick armor of hers. I hope you'll have better luck than I did."
"I'll do my best." He had an instant vision of Vanda's armor falling off to reveal soft naked skin underneath, but he quickly squelched that image. He couldn't afford the bulge in his pants to get any larger.
"I believe her anger is hiding a great deal of emotional pain," the priest continued. "The poor girl is in dire need of our kindness and compassion."
Now he felt like a dog. Which was fairly close to the truth.
"I'd like to know more about you, if you don't mind." Father Andrew regarded him curiously. "How long have you worked for MacKay Security and Investigation?"
"Eight years. I joined my sophomore year at NYU. I was stationed at Roman's townhouse."
"What was your degree in?"
"Psychology. Animal psychology."
"Ah. You were seeking insight into your own kind?"
Phil glanced at priest sharply. "You know about me?"
"That you're a wolfman? Yes."
Phil winced. "'Werewolf' is the correct term. Or 'Lycan. "
"Excuse me. I find your kind fascinating, of course."
"Of course," Phil said wryly. Which was precisely why his kind wished to remain secret. The curious ones like Father Andrew would pester him with questions. The angry ones would want to kill him. The scientists would study and dissect him, and the government would seek to use him as a weapon. The cost of being fascinating was far too high.
Father Andrew removed a pair of reading glasses from his coat pocket and put them on. "I believe your special dual nature puts you in a unique position to help Vanda learn to control her violent emotions."
"Because I'm an animal?" Phil was beginning to find this conversation annoying.
"Exactly. I believe we all have…baser qualities that we struggle with. And since your struggle must be more tangible, you've probably developed a more practical approach of gaining control—"
"You mean I've learned to tame the beast."
The priest watched him over the rim of his glasses. "Have you?"
Phil returned the man's stare without moving a muscle. He did have control over the animal within, not that it was anyone's damned business. Then he realized what this wily priest was up to. "You're testing me, aren't you? To make sure I can control my own anger before I take on Vanda."
Father Andrew had the grace to look embarrassed. "Forgive me, my son. But I did need to make sure. I fear Vanda will test your control to its limit. She will fight us every step of the way."
"I can handle her." Phil felt a growing curiosity about this priest. "Why do you care what happens to her? Or any of the Vamps? Why do you minister to the Undead?"
The priest's blush crept up to the fringe of silver hair above his brow. "I value all creatures who have been wrought by the Creator."
"But surely they've done things that make you cringe."
"Jesus broke bread with the tax collector and the prostitute. I'm fortunate to be able to follow His example."
Phil's mouth twitched. "In other words, with the Vamps, you've found the ultimate sinners. You must be thrilled."
"Everyone needs to know they're the children of God. That goes for shape shifters, too, I might add." He pulled a small day-timer from his coat pocket. "Now, I'd like to schedule a counseling session for you and Vanda. I may need your assistance to make sure she attends."
"No problem." It would definitely be a problem. Phil knew, from his psychology classes, that you couldn't force therapy on someone. A person couldn't change unless they really wanted to, and Vanda did not want it.
"All right." Father Andrew unhooked a small pen from the inside spine of the day-timer. "Let's see. I have a prayer meeting tomorrow night. Consultations on Thursday. Friday night is Jack and Lara's engagement party here."
"Let's do it then."
The priest glanced up. "During the party?"
"Why not? We could slip away to a conference room for fifteen minutes or so. It's the best way to get Vanda's cooperation. She'll know almost everyone in attendance, so I doubt she'll create a scene in front of them. Her sense of pride is bigger than her anger."
"She could simply refuse to attend the party."
Phil shrugged. "Then we won't tell her what we're planning to do."
"Young man, that is not how I normally do business."
"Vanda is not your normal customer."
Father Andrew winced. "That's true. But counseling should be based on trust. How will she ever trust us if we resort to trickery?"
"If we ask nicely, she'll refuse. Think of this as an intervention."
Father Andrew frowned as he considered. Then, with a sigh, he wrote in his day-timer. "All right, we'll try it your way. But I can't say I feel good about this maneuver. What if it triggers an extreme outburst of anger?"
"Then we'll help her learn how to manage it. That's the whole point, right?"
Father Andrew nodded slowly. "You're not afraid of her rage, then. That could be a good thing." He slid the day-timer back into his coat pocket. "That may be where Gregori and I went wrong the first time. I taught her relaxation exercises, and Gregori tried to keep everything very calm."
Phil shook his head. "You have to confront the beast in order to tame it. Believe me, I know."
"I see your point." Father Andrew extended a hand. "Thank you, Phil."
He shook the priest's hand. "You're welcome."
Father Andrew headed back to the meeting hall, then paused at the door. "There's one more thing. I…hesitate to even bring it up. You're probably already aware of the rules concerning sponsorship, and given the fact that you're two entirely different species…"