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“Yes. And for the last time,counselor,” I hiss, “if you’ve got a magic cheat code for breaking fucking blood markers, I am all ears.”
She frowns, glancing past me. I turn, my jaw clenching as I watch Tempest dance, her eyes closed and her hips swaying.
“If you mistreat her?—”
“Taylor—”
“If you mistreat her,” she repeats, “you won’t have to worry about Alistair or Gabriel coming after you. BecauseIwill first. That girl is like a little sister to me, Dante. That supersedes any professional relationship you and I have.”
“Yeah, well to me she’s a fuckingpest. I won’t be laying a finger on her.”
Taylor’s eyes narrow. “See that you don’t. Also, why are you even here, anyway?”
I roll my eyes. “Miss Hurricane and I need to?—”
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
I turn, immediately locking eyes with a particularly sassy-looking Tempest. Her cheeks are flushed, too, and not just from dancing. I glance past her to where the girls are dancing, spotting the bottle of vodka on ice with numerous glasses around it.
Interesting, considering I know for a fact that Tempest doesn’t drink much at all.
“You and I need to talk.”
“No,” she shrugs, smirking. “I don’t think we do.”
The sassy little attitude drops as I surge right into her, looming over her as she presses her back against the glass wall behind her.
“Dante…” Taylor warns behind me. But I ignore her as I lean down, putting my lips right by Tempest’s ear.
“You and I need to talk,” I growl quietly. “Alone, right now. You can come willingly, or I can hoist you over my fucking shoulder right here in front of all of your little friends and make it happen myself.”
When I pull back, the pink is flooding her cheeks even more.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
My lips curl. “I would ask yourself exactly how well you know me before you choose to start calling my bluffs, little hurricane.”
Her lips purse. “It’sTempest,” she mutters. “Stop calling me hurricane or cyclone or whatever, it’s bullshit.” She fidgets in front of me another five seconds, but then clears her throat. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
“This way.”
I grab her hand, ignoring Taylor’s wrathful glare as I pull Tempest after me. Another bouncer nods as I approach, opening the door to anon-glass VIP room. The second we’re inside, I whirl and slam Tempest against the door behind her. She gasps.
“Fuck you, you?—”
“Stop,” I snarl, silencing her with a dark look and a firm grip on her upper arms, pinning her to the door.
I refuse to acknowledge the sultry mood of the room. The low lighting and deep sofas behind me. The way the club music thuds like a pulse in the air.
Or the glint in Tempest’s eyes.
The way her tongue slips out to deftly wet her lips.
Get your shit together.
“Do you have a death wish?”
She frowns. “What?”
