Page 27 of Cruel Games

“All sorts,” replied Gideon. “There are rooms for garage, drum and bass, jungle, nu-jazz, and chill out. Although the chill-out room is used more for hookups.”

The guy with the silver hair turned around and swept his gaze up and down Gideon’s form. “Planning on going there soon?”

Gideon’s lips twisted into a smile. “That depends entirely on if you’re asking.”

Mr. Silver-Hair gave Gideon the widest grin. “Nice dress. Even nicer legs.”

Gideon preened. “How would you like them wrapped around your waist?”

My eyes bulged, and I tried not to choke on Gideon’s transformation from the poshest guy at the academy to the Sultan of Sass.

The silver-haired guy’s friend turned around. His gaze dropped to my cleavage, and he turned back. I guess he also wasn’t interested in girls.

By the time we reached the top of the line, Mr. Silver-Hair, who had introduced himself as Lachlan, paid for Gideon and me to enter. He also took us both to the nu-jazz room and bought us vodka cocktails served in bottles.

While they tried to include me in the conversation, I stepped away from them and stared into the dance floor, looking for a friendly face. Lachlan seemed to be interested in more than a quick shag, and the last thing I wanted to do was intrude on a potential relationship for Gideon.

A man with bleached blonde hair styled into spikes caught my eye and grinned. He wore a black t-shirt with a chainmail harness.

I licked my lips and gave him a saucy wink.

Someone from behind wrapped an arm around my waist. “I thought I might find you here.”

I turned around to find a shirtless Maxwell grinning down at me with mischief in his silvery eyes. My gaze roved over the tattoos covering his chest and arms. An ornate design stretched from his collarbone down to his pierced nipples.

In the blue, strobe light, I couldn’t tell if it was paisley, the swirls of an antique mirror, or both. My tongue darted out to lick my lips, and I swallowed to stop myself from salivating at the sight.

Tattoos adorned his arms. The design was so intricate, I could only make out a few details. An image of Salvador Dali, one of Queen Elizabeth’s face in front of the Union Jack. I think I spotted Oscar Wilde, but Maxwell twisted around, obscuring my view.

The face of a vampire took up his entire stomach, its features twisting over Maxwell’s six-pack abs. The vampire’s tongue pointed down from his bellybutton to the waistband of his pants.

I tried not to imagine what other tattoos dwelled beneath the leather. Tried not to picture a long, thick penis, covered in ink, but the effort was futile.

His full lips spread into a grin. “See something you like?”

“Your tats are great,” I said without thinking. “Although the rest of you is shit.”

“Are you alright?” Lachlan strolled up to me with Gideon at his side.

Maxwell’s eyes widened. “Is that—”

I elbowed Maxwell hard in the stomach, making him flinch. Then I placed both hands on Maxwell’s chest and gave him a hard shove.

“Absolutely fine,” I blurted. “You two enjoy yourself. I’m just going to have a nice, long chat with my newfound friend.”

Gideon’s brows drew together in a look of concern.

‘Go,’ I mouthed. “I’ll take care of things.”

With a sharp nod, he walked away with Lachlan in the direction of a room labeled CHILL OUT.

Maxwell rounded on me. “That was Adewale.”

“What are you talking about?” I folded my arms across my chest.

“Is he gay?”

“Funny thing to ask in a gay-friendly club,” I snapped.