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Damn.
****
The Stake House in North Shelters was complete with a warning over the door which read, “Vamps Beware.” Inside, Nace did not like the way Celene’s dark green eyes lit up when she spied the questing beast corralled off to the side of the bar.
She whipped her head around, her silky blonde, chin-length hair flowing with the movement like a sheet of water, the row of diamonds on her right ear glinting in the overhead lights. “Is the sign for real? Can we ride it?”
“You’re not dressed for the occasion.” Nace eyed his date, the female he was courting. Her skirt was too short, her top too snug, and her belly too bare. Personally, he loved the look. He just didn’t want other males to enjoy it. Jaguars were possessive bastards.
Celene dipped her head to take in her clothes. “I think the skirt’s short enough I can straddle the wilding with little trouble.”
“No.” She wasn’t straddling anything but him.
“Pardon? Did you say, ‘No?’”
“I did. All your goods would be on display. I will not allow that. I’d have to fight off every unattached male in the place. Possibly a few females, too.” Besides, Celene was human and fragile. The questing beast could kill her with one blow from its horns or hoofs.
“Not only did you use the ‘no’ word, but you used the ‘allow’ word. Two of my least favorites left your gorgeous lips in less than a second. You do realize you’re not my father.”
“Definitely. My thoughts toward you would be quite inappropriate if we were related.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m riding the beasty thing before we leave tonight.” She held up her hand before he opened his mouth. “Don’t.”
“Dinner first. Then we’ll argue. As the male courting you, I can be most persuasive.”
“As the female court-ee, I can be most stubborn. I’m hungry. I’ll need energy to ride the critter.” She grasped the crook of Nace’s elbow, following him to a table.
As they walked into the dining room, a burly shifter exited the kitchen, waving everyone to their feet while he shouted in a booming voice, “Jag in the house.” When he pointed at an old-fashioned jukebox, one of Nace’s younger Firebrands rushed to it, put in a coin, and punched some buttons. Chuck Berry’s voice filled the room.
Celene listened. “‘Jaguar and Thunderbird?’”
Nace sighed. “Yeah. Seems to be a tradition unless I sneak in and hide in the shadows. Stupid ass young Firebrands of mine. They think the song’s funny.” Nace nodded, bumping fists with various males and females on the way to a table.
“They know the tune is about two cars. Right?”
“They still think it’s funny.”
Celene grinned at him as he pulled her into the protection of his arm, liking the way she fit. He was a big guy, and she was a tall female. With heels, she snuggled in just under his chin. Perfect. What he didn’t like were the eyes glued to the shapely legs revealed beneath her too-short skirt. She didn’t realize it yet, but he never shared.
He pulled out a chair, assisted her into it, and pushed it closer to the table.
“Are you going to play the gentleman for the entire courtship?” she asked.
His second-in-command walked by, thumbs-upping him. As if he needed the validation.
After he sat, Nace opened a menu. “I’m going to try, but you inspire very ungentlemanly thoughts. I recommend the small filet mignon for you, rare.”
“I recommend you hand me my own menu so I can choose.”
When the waitress shuffled to their table, pen and pad in hand, asking what they wanted to drink, he closed the menu. “She’ll have a merlot.”
“She’ll have a beer with a whiskey chaser,” she said to the woman. “He’ll have an order of shut-the-hell-up and a chaser of let-me-decide-what-the-fuck-I-want.”
The waitress played it cool. Her eyes swung toward Nace, seeking an answer. “Give her what she wants. I’ll have the same.” Resting his elbows on the table, he tented his fingers. “This courtship will go much smoother if you let me lead, Celene.”
“How old are you?” She returned the menus to the rack.
“Four hundred. Give or take a few.”
