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Our first victim sits down in the booth, and I barely pay attention while he pleads with Darion for funds. The scent of mint wafts off him in waves, while sweat drips down the side of his face. I glance at Seb and find his eyes locked on me. I draw my foot higher, up to the inside of his thigh. He hisses involuntarily, and suddenly, he has her attention.
She stares at him with a small line between her brow, like she can’t figure out what’s wrong with him. I want to lean across the table and whisper the words in her ear, watch those pretty eyes widen in shock. Will she be horrified? Will she be disgusted?
“Seb?”
He jolts and knocks my foot away, looking at Darion. “No!” Seb growls, vetoing the fund application.
Hmm, he’s paying attention, not good enough. I’ll need to work harder. I drop under the table, coming up between him and Darion, who makes room instantly. I squeeze close to him and lean into his neck. He growls, but it’s so soft only Missy and I can hear. My tongue flicks out, and I glance at her. She’s watching, no revulsion. There’s only fascination. Interest.
Oh, damn. She might be perfect after all. That’s just too damn bad.
I lunge, biting hard, drawing my teeth over Seb’s collarbone. I nuzzle the skin and lick a salty path up to his pack bond. With a groan, I bite deep and then suck hard enough to make the huge alpha groan. He threads his fingers through my hair and holds me in place. I reach down, caressing him through his jeans. The fucking hard length of him makes my mouth water. The t-shirt he’s wearing is in my way. I run my hands up under it, over his abs, flicking my nail over a nipple and smiling when he curses.
Mine. I look up straight into wide, green-gold eyes.
Missy can’t look away. Even when Darion reaches across the table, squeezing her hand in warning, she can’t look away. I bite my lower lip and then lick a path up Seb’s throat. He tastes like salt and heat.
Darion slams his glass down, and Missy and Seb jump. I lathe my tongue over his skin one more time, and with one more lingering squeeze; I lean back and meet Darion’s eyes.
“Not here,” he growls.
I shrug. “Fine. I’m going to go dance.”
He ignores me, turns away back to usher the next fool in. I glide to the dance floor, grabbing a brunette with curves that I can wrap my hands around. I lead her out to the dance floor, grinding myself into her. We move to the beat, and for a moment, I forget where I am, what I’m doing, just a moment, and then I’m watching as she throws her head back, tossing that fucking hair like a goddamn declaration of war. Not the girl in my arms, I’ve forgotten about her, but the raging ginger kitten that is glaring at me from Seb’s side.
I try to return my interest to the girl in front of me, but I can’t focus, so I turn away, slinking up to the bar and signaling with two fingers.
Eddie delivers the drink without stopping. It’s why I like him. None of this chatty shit, he just delivers what I need and moves on. I throw the shot back, appreciate the smooth burn.
He delivers another with a warning glance behind me. I watch the mirror and see the women approach. When they get close, I let out a deep growl, and they scurry away.
I drink slowly until I feel him behind me. I slam my glass down and turn, wrapping my arms around my neck and dragging myself up against him. He always comes when I’m upset, our forever fixer.
“Lukas, it’s going to be fine.” He murmurs into my ear.
“We should never have agreed to this, I can’t resist her,” I whisper. The desperation, the fear fuelling my anger, but Seb just leans down, claiming my lips, stealing my air. Drinking my rage down like it belongs to him, and I guess it does.
“Nothing will happen.” He murmurs and pulls me out onto the dance floor. He moves with me, grinding our hips together, his hands moving constantly over my back and ass, not to arouse but to calm. “It won’t be like before. We’re safe. We’re in control. This is an arrangement that has an end date.”
“Promise?” I whisper, hating, despising the pitiful plea.
He kisses me hard, tasting of beer and safety. “I promise.” He drags his thumb across my bottom lip and takes a step back. “Come on. Let’s get this show started.”
I heave a sigh, but it’s hard to stay angry when he kisses me like that.
As we approach the table, Missy keeps her eyes on the wood. She doesn’t look up when Seb sits down, nor when I slam into the seat across from her. I want her to look at me. I want her attention, her disgust, but when she looks up, I see something that floors me.
Arousal. Want. Need. Desperate longing.
She can’t hide it. Maybe she doesn’t know how, but it’s there, clear as day in her eyes. I don’t think Darion and Seb see it, but I do.
I lick my lips. Her eyes track the movement and then flick away, locking on the crowd. I close my eyes, recognising my own weakness in that moment.
“Well, well, well.” I murmur. I stand up on the seat, climb onto the table, careful not to knock any glasses over. “Guess that seals it, then.”
Missy looks up, alarmed. The lights in the pub bring out the gold in her eyes. Her freckles stand out on her pale skin. And I notice that her hair isn’t ginger, but an array of orange and brown threads that burn like fire under the light.
I put my fingers to my lips and whistle shrilly. The music cuts off, and people turn towards us. I wait until the entire pub is staring in our direction.
