We head to the bar. I order and grab the drinks, but not before grabbing the bartender’s wrist.
“Clean?” I ask.
“Clean.”
They better be. I know drugs all too well, and the last thing we need is laced decadence. I nod, releasing him as Ramsey gives me an approving glance from across the room.
“Everything okay?” Reese asks.
“Yes. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
Her face tilts down, but I see the shadow of a smile on her lips. She takes the drink, inhales, and sips, eyes widening. “Mygoodness—what is this?” Her face sours as her southern drawl slips out.
“Easy there,” I warn. “Absinthe. The good stuff. Strong enough to make you see stars, but not strong enough for you to turn all van Gogh and cut an ear off.”
She takes another sip. “Tastes like licorice and hellfire had a love child.” Her eyes flash with something dangerous. “I think I want more.”
“One’s enough. Training tomorrow, remember?”
“I can handle it,” she shoots back, swaying closer. “Isn’t that what tonight’s all about?”
Yes, it is, darling.
Before I can answer, she grabs another drink from the bartender and tilts the cup back in one smooth motion. “That’s enough.”
“You’re not allowed to be bossy in the gymandout of it.” She pauses, and I recognize that look—it’s the same calculated recklessness she gets in training before attempting something bold. Her shoulders drop, tension melting. “Why don’t I give the commands tonight?”
My cock hardens at the words. She moves closer, tongue darting across her lower lip, and desire hits me like a physical blow. She lets her fingers dance in the silver chain along my neck.
Her hand drops lower, pausing at a pearl button on my shirt, unfastening it with a tortuous slowness.
Fuck.
“You’re so buttoned-up, Mr. Hastings. We’re meant to be letting loose.”
“Fucking hell, Reese.” My pulse thunders beneath my starched collar, her fingers electrifying my chest. Absinthe’s sweet sharpness lingers on her breath.
Rising to her tiptoes, swaying, she whispers hot against my ear, “Let’s see if you move as well here as you do with your sword.” Her words slur at their edges.
The bass drops. Tonight, Reese finally lets go. Inhibitions dissolving with each beat.
She throws her head back in wild abandon, joy erupting from her throat like it’s her first taste of freedom. That smile could topple dynasties. She spins through the kaleidoscope of bodies, stumbling yet catching herself with a giggle.
Otherworldly. Untouchable.
I can’t look away.
A masked couple tries pulling me into their orbit. I growl them off, irritated. Normally, I’d be hunting my next meaningless distraction. But this isn’t another night, another willing body.
This is Reese Sinclair crashing into my world, her cheeks flushed with one drink too many.
She grips my hand with startling force. “Don’t leave me,” she hiccups.
Her red dress teases me with each sway. When she traces her clavicle, I forget to breathe. I spin her into my arms to steady her wobble, and the heat of her back against my chest nearly shatters me.
She reaches for another drink, fingers unsteady.
“Easy, Reese,” I warn as she sways dangerously, my hand instinctively finding the small of her back.
