She’s so fucking dangerous.
Every man has noticed Sifa. I can almost feel their heartbeats increase when they steal a glance at her. Which they do way too much.
Fuck. I can’t watch this.
I also can’t leave. Because if I do, I’ll spend the whole night wondering who Sifa chose.
Who’s trying to please her with his scrawny little penis.
Whose hands are on the body that belongs to me.
Wishing they could satisfy her in the way only I can.
Because she’s my gods-damned mate.
Even if I don’t like her.
And I’ll never have her.
I hate the gods right now, their cruel senses of humor. They’re probably watching us. Laughing at the chaos they’ve created.
When my stew arrives, I dig into it like I haven’t eaten in days, grateful for the distraction. My gaze keeps finding Sifa, eyeing the men who don’t try to hide their interest in her. At least none of them join her.
I’m waiting for my second serving when a tall, wide man rises from his seat, staring at Sifa. He’s not ugly, and I desperately wish he was. Sifa notices and gives him a small smile. His lips tip up at the encouragement, and he strides forward.
My blood pressure rises with every step. I can feel my savage struggling to break free, and I’m fighting again to rein him in. This was my first lesson. The one beaten into me over and over again until I became flawless.
Always, always keep a short leash on that primal part of me.
But I’ve never been tested like this. The mating bond transcends everything. It is elemental and when it snaps into place, it is in control. Those old lessons, the power I learned to wield, to dominate, mean nothing.
By the time the bastard sits down, leaning forward to say a few words to her, my hands have clenched into fists. I focus on them, forcing my fingers to relax, then pushing that feeling up my arms and through my body.
She’s not mine. I know that. I can’t control who she chooses.
The savage, though, doesn’t care about those niceties. He knows who Sifa is. That she’s ours. And he’s not willing to share.
When the stranger reaches over to take her hand and lift it toward his lips, I lose control. My magic slips out, slithering across the room to build a wall of disdain between them as I rise and stalk toward their table. Sifa leans back, flustered by the new feeling I’ve forced on her.
If I were a wise male, I’d leave well enough alone. Let my magic do what my body should not.
But I’m not wise. At least not where Sifa is concerned. I know that already.
“She doesn’t want company,” I say as I grab a chair from a nearby table and swing it to sit next to Sifa, straddling it with my arms on the back. I catch the male’s gaze, letting my savage roar through mine. “You should leave now, while you can.”
“What the fuck, Fhord?” Sifa’s angry.
My savage doesn’t care. “He’s bothering you,” I tell her as my gaze finds hers. “He needs to go,” I add with a smile.
“No, you need to go. He’s great. I was finally starting to enjoy myself on this trip.”
“It’s good I got here in time, then.” I turn back to him. “She’s with me. And I’m a dangerous male. This is your last chance to leave with all your teeth.”
“The lady seems to want my company, not yours.”
He’s not prepared for the fist that flashes toward him, aimed at the teeth I warned him he’d lose. His head flings back, a spray of blood flying out to sprinkle a nearby table. When those men jump up, hands on their weapons, I do the same. My back is against the wall, sword in my hand, before the stranger reaches up to find his front teeth missing.
“What the actual fuck, Fhord?” Sifa stands too, ripping off a scarf to hand it to him, but I grab it before she can. She spins toward me, eyes filled with storms and shadows. “What are you doing?”
