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"Excuse me," I said, catching the eye of the tallest woman. She had dark skin, dark hair, and a somewhat broad nose, and she reminded me a little of Harris, except that her eyes were a warm brown. "Can you tell me if there's a public phone here?" I had to raise my voice to be heard above the din.
"At the back," she shouted, pointing with her glass.
I waved her a thanks and headed that way. Everyone was so tightly packed it was difficult to get past anyone without actually touching them, and while the experience wasn't exactly unpleasant, it wasn't really exciting, either. Which was weird. I mean, I was a female werewolf without a mate, and this bar was full of males in the prime - and not so prime - of their lives. Once upon a time, I would have been dancing and flirting, and generally having a good time as I squished past them all. But my soul mate was dead and it felt like a chore. Like something I had to put up with, then escape.
No, that little voice inside whispered, it's not that. Ben lost his soul mate, and he still desires. He can still enjoy sex and the company of others.
I didn't even bother trying to recall who Ben was. My memories were obviously going to take their own sweet time returning.
I eventually found the phones at the rear of the room near the two bathrooms, but Evin wasn't there. Maybe he'd made his call and was somewhere else in this cauldron of humanity and wolves. I couldn't smell him, but that wasn't really surprising given the sheer number of male wolves in the room.
I found a spare chair in the corner and stepped up, looking out over the sea of dark heads in an attempt to find a red-gold one. There were several blonds and the occasional brown, but no redheads. Maybe he'd gone back to the villa.
I stepped down and pushed my way back through the crowd. But I was barely halfway across the room when I ran nose first into a rather solid-looking chest. It felt like I was hitting a brick wall.
"Ouch," I said, rubbing my nose as I stepped back and looked up. And up. Christ, he had to be at least six and a half feet tall.
His skin, like that of many of the wolves in the room, was dark, and his face was flat and broad of nose. His mouth was small and pinched looking, and his eyes . . .
Something within me shivered.
His eyes were brown, but there was little warmth in them, little humanity.
"Little lady, you just spilled my drink. "
"Sorry. " Then I glanced at his hands and realized he wasn't even holding a glass. My gaze shot up to his again. There was something snakelike about his smile. "Would you mind moving out of my way?"
There were several men behind him, watching the two of us and smiling in anticipation. I had a feeling that this - whatever this was - was a game they'd played often.
"I'm afraid I can't move until I get a kiss in replacement for my drink. " He reached for my waist, but I slapped his hand away.
Something flickered in his eyes. He didn't like being rejected. Well, tough.
"Move," I said. "Or I will make you move. "
He laughed and glanced over his shoulder. "Hear that? You think I should be scared?"
"Please," I said, with the barest hint of a growl running through my voice. "Just move. "
He grabbed me, moving so fast I didn't have time to stop him, and dragged me against his body. He smelled of old sweat and rotting grass. Not a pleasant combination.
"Kiss me," he said, as the men behind him began to egg him on, "and then you can go. Just one little kiss. "
"Over my dead body. "
"It would be my pleasure," he whispered, and swooped.
I shifted my face so that the kiss landed on my cheek rather than my lips then reached back, grabbing his fingers and yanking them backward as hard as I could. Bone snapped and he hissed in pain. But pleasure flicked through his eyes and his excitement surged around me, thick and hungry.
He got off on pain. Great.
So I gave him something else to get happy about, and kneed him in the nuts as hard as I could. And apparently I was stronger than I knew, because he went down like a ton of bricks. His friends - charmers that they were -
jumped out of the way rather than trying to help him.
"I did ask you nicely to move," I said, then looked up as the crowd parted and footsteps approached, to meet the gaze of an unhappy-looking Harris. The man obviously had a nose for trouble.
He looked from me to the man-mountain writhing on the floor, and I swear a slight smile touched his lips. But when his gaze met mine again, his expression was all dour and businesslike.
