Rafael paused as those words conjured one hell of an image in his mind—Celena kicking his ass in that pair of stiletto corset boots she often wore. And in his mind she was wearing nothing but a thong. . . . Yeah . . . that was something he definitely wouldn't mind.
A native of Trinidad, Celena had the most perfect mocha complexion he'd ever seen. It was so smooth and inviting that it begged a man to taste it.
And her lips . . .
Angelina Jolie had nothing on her. She moved slow and seductive like a cat and he'd spent more than his fair share of time wanting her to rub that lean, curvy body of hers up against his.
But unfortunately, she was a Squire and he was a Dark-Hunter. By the rules of their world, she was off limits to him, and though Rafael didn't give two shits about most rules, Celena lived for them.
It was a crime against nature in his opinion that a woman that fine couldn't be corrupted.
"What do I do?" Jeff asked.
"Well, not to insult a man who looks like a rocket scientist in comparison to you, but. . . run, Forrest, run."
"But I didn't do anything wrong. It's a new era where—-"
"Do you really want to argue that point while someone, who is only a few minutes away, is speeding over here to most likely kill you?"
Jeff paused for a single heartbeat before common sense finally seized him. "Where should I hide?"
If it wasn't for the fact that as a Dark-Hunter Rafael was impervious to illness, he'd swear a migraine was starting right behind his left eye. "Get to the basement and hide there. Don't make a peep and don't leave until I tell you it's safe."
Jeff nodded before he ran for the door. Two seconds later he was back. Rafael watched him with a frown as he searched around the room until he located the baseball bat he'd used yesterday at the batting cages. He picked it up and cradled it to his chest before he headed back toward the basement.