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Derek cocked his head to the side as a rock ballad began playing. “Then why aren’t you mingling with the pack?”
“I’m going to get a plate,” she said, rising from her seat.
He nodded. “Don’t be too long now.”
And he slapped her on the rear, subtly enough that nobody else could notice.
Iris blushed in response, moving toward Mason. To Iris’s disappointment, most of the pineapple had already been taken from the plate, but she was still able to find a generous helping of ham remaining.
“Since when do you tend bar?” she asked Ava, who was preparing a whiskey sour for Casey, seated beside Mason at the bar. Ava’s stiff movements were the only indication of her near-fatal injury just hours before, thanks to the advanced healing of shifters and Iris’s own magical intervention.
“I’ve always been a bartender.”
Iris shook her head, wondering how much of her friend’s life she still had left to piece together.
“What can I getcha?” Ava asked.
Iris held up her hand.
“None for me tonight,” she replied. “I want to be well-rested for tomorrow.”
“I guess that’s fair.”
As she wandered around mingling, she heard far more information than she wanted to know about the mission, including all the gory details the children had left out.
She was asked about how everything had gone in the bunker and felt torn. Partly, she was relieved that her stories weren’t very interesting, but she longed for the excitement of the battlefield.
Iris might have been destined to heal and was grateful that her skills were so useful. But there was a part of her that still wanted to run and cleave. Her inner wolf wanted to be there with the others, fighting.
By the time she had returned to the table with a half-eaten plate, she was determined. She wasn’t going to stay behind next time, watching Ava and the smaller members of the pack.
She wanted to stand by Derek’s side and personally make Cyrus pay for everything he’d done.
Not wanting to wait another minute, she half-extended her hand toward Derek. He took it, and she led him away from the table.
Iris wanted him so badly. The odds of them losing were low, but she couldn’t help fearing that the worst might happen.
If this was their last chance to be together, the last chance for her to feel Derek’s warmth, she wasn’t going to waste it.
EIGHTEEN
DEREK
The rest of the pack kept the party going. Despite the late hour, they wanted to celebrate their victory. Iris and Derek decided to call it a night, locking the door behind them for some much-needed alone time.
"I just want to make sure you didn't get hurt," Iris said, gripping the hem of Derek's shirt and pulling it over his head.
"I'm fine," Derek answered.
He took her hands in his and kissed her gently.
As the chilly night air blew in through the open window, Iris and Derek shared a passionate kiss, their lips moving together like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly. Their tongues danced and explored each other's mouths.
They didn't care about the noise they heard from downstairs as they sat on the couch in their suite. All they cared about was each other at that moment. Derek slid his hands up her sides, feeling the soft texture of her shirt under his fingertips as he traced patterns on her bare skin. She giggled softly against his lips before pulling back to speak.
"You know … We could always continue this in the bedroom," she whispered seductively with a grin.
Derek smirked back at her and nodded, grabbing her by the waist as he picked her up bridal-style. He kicked off his shoes as he made his way toward their bedroom, not bothering to turn on any light on the way there. Once inside, he gently placed her on the bed and crawled on top of her, pressing his warm body against hers.
