“You can’t be in here,” I yell over the din of the bar, not hiding my irritation. How the hell did he track me here? And why would he travel the three hours to come find me? A little part of me is impressed, which is dangerous. He’s under my skin and I need him gone.
My hands brace against my side of the counter as I try to appear unaffected, but my nails dig into the wood.
“It’s my job. I’m your security detail, remember?” he shouts to be heard, but still manages a teasing tone.
“Brexley, you need to go. Now.” I try to look busy and unaffected, grabbing dirty glasses off the bar.
“I thought you called security by their last names?” he goads. He’s not taking me seriously.
I set the glasses in the wash rack under the bar, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, well, I call dudes I’ve screwed by their first name.” With a quick glance around, I see no one is paying attention to our rather loud, intimate conversation.
And that wasn’t true. I usually never saw or called my one-nighters again.
“We didn’t even use a condom,” I say in a hushed tone. He perks up, having heard me, despite the loud chatter and pulsating music.
“I’m clean if that’s what you’re worried about. As for the other thing . . . ”
Pregnancy, he means pregnancy and it’s a leading question. “I’m clean too. I'm also on the pill, and I took plan B just in case.”
He immediately relaxes. Wish I could be so cavalier.Men. . .
I lean in, and he does the same until we are mere inches apart. “This is a humans-only bar, in a humans-only part of town. I can’t serve fae,” I say.
I can’t serve mages either, but if he is a Were, he is a fae. Fae creatures are born into certain races like fairies, elves, and ogres. Each type of fae has their own brand of unique magic talents specific to their race. While mages are closer to humans, they possess an innate magic talent and can learn and grow their index of spells and abilities.
Brexley’s dangerous, icy gaze drops to my lips as I speak before they lift back up to meet my gaze. “Good thing I’m here to service you.”
The temperature of the bar raises at least sixty degrees, and sweat pops out on my brow and lower back.
Whoa, nelly! I don’t need this.
My hormones had calmed down from our earlier tryst. But a simple phrase and a hot gaze and every needy impulse in me stands up and starts singing operatic, like a bunch of horny altar boys.
More, more, more. We must have more.
Heat rushes directly to my center. I casually reposition myself to press my thighs together as if it will keep the sudden rush of wetness at bay. I thought I had scratched this itch. But I want him again. Bad.
Are my episodes getting worse? Or does this silver-haired Were possess some extra special hold on me?
Brexley swipes his tongue out, touching the corner of his mouth in that positively lewd way again and sweeps his gaze up and down my body as if he knows the effect he has on me.
Fuckity fuck nutting nut nuts.
Internal muscles clench, making me feel oh so achy and empty. My body can’t handle this. I’m too strung out. Like a heroin addict who can’t wait to get their next dose. And if it weren’t for the crowd I would have leapt over the counter and mounted him already.
I close my eyes and take a calming breath, reigning in my raging hormones. I calm a fraction enough for my irritation to rise again.
He doesn’t know me. If it weren’t for my bonkers hormones this wouldn’t even be a thing.
Probably. Maybe.
Taking control of the mood, I ask him seriously, “What happened after I left?”
His expression immediately loses all flirtatious nature, and I’m facing a dark, foreboding man. No, a beast. It ripples there, just under the surface. Now that I’ve seen it, I can’t unsee it.
“Don’t worry, little Red, I took care of it.” He says it in the patronizing tone I’ve heard all my life from people who work for Gigi. It’s like he slammed a hand down on a big red button inside me and my arousal takes a back seat to watch the show.
“First off,” I point one finger at him. “Don’t call me that. And second, don’t treat me like a child with some misguided notion you need to protect my delicate sensibilities.”
