Page 7 of Allegiant

The ones without holes in the walls or carpet missing from the floor.

“Hey, Bets.”

“Hello,” she says, her crooked smile not quite reaching her eyes when she gazes at the man behind me. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight. Did you have a show?”

“Just a practice. Then went out dancing. Axe throwing. All the things.”

She eyes the man still behind me and then utters, “He is an excellent axe thrower.”

It’s a way to warn him off, to tell him that I can defend myself. It’s sweet. There’s absolutely no way I could actually fend this guy off if he really wanted to hurt me. Especially with that dagger at his waist, the one he pulled from the target with ease before we left, but I don’t say that. I just lean over the counter a little, my ass pressed tightly against his crotch, feeling the hard bulge there. “Give me a room? Just need an hour.”

The man behind me growls. “Could be longer than that.”

I grin over my shoulder at him. “You think so? I don’t know about that. Most men think they have stamina until they meet me.”

His eyes narrow. “Maybe you have low expectations.”

“Maybe I do. But I’ve never had anyone prove otherwise.”

His tongue swipes over his lip. “Challenge accepted.”

When Bets hands me the key, he swipes it from my palm, leading me outside with an assurance that I didn’t know was possible. Or maybe I did. Maybe I knew all along, and that’s why I lured him over here.

To see what he is capable of.

A man of mystery. Someone I hope will surprise me.

I’m so tired of being disappointed.

The door opens, a bang of metal on sheetrock, and then the light flickers on, showing off the worn furnishings and the dingy wallpaper. It has charm if you squint slightly. Okay, a lot.

I turn to face the man whose name I still don’t know.

He cocks his head and his hand goes to the dagger at his side. He pulls it from its sheath and holds it in his palm. My heart ticks up, thudding in my ears, but he just sets the dagger down on the rickety table with a small clatter.

He stares at it, and I do too. My pulse thuds a beat in my ear.

“Why do you carry that around?” I ask, my finger reaching out to touch it before retracting slightly.

“Safety. Obligation… Tradition.”

It’s my turn to cock my head, my shoulders shrugging out of his jacket, and I drape it across the chair beside me. “Sounds complicated.”

“You have no idea,” he says, his words low and unsure. It’s just for a moment before he stands up a little straighter, his hands fisted by his sides, his stance widening. Almost like he thinks I’ll run.

I’m tempted. That sounds fun. But not as fun as getting him inside me as fast as possible.

So, instead, I step toward the bed. I don’t break eye contact with him as I slowly strip. My shirt goes first. Then my pants. My ankle socks. I stop when all that’s covering me is the pink lace thong I chose to wear.

Maybe this was always how I planned to end the night. I must’ve instinctively known this would happen.

I didn’t think I’d be sharing the bed with a man as gorgeous as the one before me.

His pupils dilate as they run over me. They linger on the sheet music tattooed into my skin before dipping lower. His breath rasps as he finds my bulge, the underwear struggling to contain it.

The tension in the air thickens. Lust and something else. Apprehension. Need. And maybe a little bit of understanding.

Of what this is and who we are. Or who we want to be.