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Chapter Twelve
Grinning at one another for a moment, the pair soon took to the dance floor. On the way there, Espie caught the scent of a shifter, but she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to sniff out exactly what kind it was. A look up at Luther’s face told her that he had scented the being too, but the twist of his lips when he caught her watching him told her he had no intentions of following up.
She led him to the center of the dance floor. Then, before he could do anything silly that might kill the mood, like bust out into some nineties dance moves that men were so prone to do when they were uncomfortable dancing, she pulled him right up behind her. Chest to back, they fit together like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces, with Espie complementing the dips and grooves of Luther’s toned body with the curves of her own.
She arched her back out, one arm weaving around his neck as he let her head tip back against his shoulder. Her other hand encouraged his arms to snake around her, which he did with a lengthy sigh whispered against her neck. Her inner bear rejoiced at such heady contact, their bodies entwined as they rocked together in time with the music.
Espie wasn’t much of a dancer – she wasn’t really any of this, honestly – but somehow doing all these dance moves -- moves at which she usually rolled her eyes -- with Luther made her feel safe. She didn’t feel silly arching her back for him, or grinding her hips against his firm, muscular form. Every touch, she savored. Every brush of his lips against her neck, Espie would feel and remember for quite some time.
A few songs later, she practically shook with need, wanting nothing more than to climb right up Luther’s torso and kiss him. But she refrained. Instead, when he asked if she wanted to get out of there, Espie nodded and told him she had an early shift tomorrow—it was probably best to call it a night.
“But we’ll do this again soon,” she insisted, standing up on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. His skin flushed slightly as he nodded.
“It’s a date, grizzly.”
As they weaved their way through the crowd, Luther excused himself to hit the bathroom before they left. Espie waited outside, hastily texting to update Maida on the progress of the date, with fingers flying across her phone screen.
“Well, hello, pretty thing.”
Espie looked up slowly, irritably, when a male voice pervaded her personal space—followed swiftly by a large hand on her shoulder. She stepped out of reach, scowling. The man in question was very much a local: a townie, as all the college kids would say. He fit better at the sports bar than at the trendy nightclub with his unevenly buttoned off-white shirt, a stained wife-beater tee beneath, and a pair of somewhat muddy jeans.
“You here all by yerself, darlin’?” he drawled, moving in yet again as she tried to keep the space between them.
“Nope.”
“Oh, don’t lie, now.”
“Back off, man,” she snapped. He stunk of human—drunk human—and she knew she could probably physically overpower him if necessary. As it stood, she wasn’t in the mood to make an unnecessary scene. It didn’t look great on the clan alpha if rumors flew around that his baby sister was getting in bar brawls on Friday nights.
Plus, it was hardly a fair fight.
“C’mon, baby. All I want is t’buy you a drink…”
Espie shoved her phone in her purse, ready and totally capable of laying into the guy about boundaries and respecting women—when a white knight rode in to save her. Again.
Luther blitzed into the conversation out of nowhere, slamming the annoying idiot up against a wall and pinning him by the throat.
“Is there a problem here?” he snarled, and Espie noticed the darkening of his eyes—his inner bear shining through. The drunk coughed and sputtered as he tried to lift Luther’s forearm off his neck with little success. Luther pressed harder in response, despite the way the drunk’s face was turning purple. “Because you’re bothering my friend here, and I can’t allow that.”
“Luther—”
He didn’t look at her. “This’ll only take a sec, Espie.”
Teeth gritted, she surged forward and managed to get herself between the two men, then gave Luther a half-decent push back. Not enough to send him flying, but enough to let him know she meant business.
“He’s harmless,” she snapped. Behind her, the drunk staggered off, coughing and mumbling incoherently. Meanwhile, the crowd that had gathered to watch, stayed. She lowered her voice, biting back her annoyance. “I could have handled him.”
“You’re my…” Luther ran a hand through his hair, always a distracting feature. Espie blinked hard to stay focused. He’d almost said what she had been waiting for since the beginning of the evening. Instead, he shook his head and glared at the stumbling drunk. “No one’s allowed to touch you like that. He was bothering you, so I put a stop to it. That’s…That’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Because you’re mine.
The independent spirit within her practically caught fire at the words left unsaid. Glaring, Espie slipped on her little leather jacket and fished her keys out of her purse, storming off toward her brother’s truck. Halfway across the parking lot, she heard him call after her. Still fuming, she rounded on the spot and pinned him with a look so fierce that it was as if she’d snarled at him.
Her inner grizzly preached patience and understanding.
Espie just wanted to let him have it. The brief, flickering moments of intimacy they had experienced in the booth and on the dance floor paled when compared to the disaster the rest of the night had sadly become.
Luther stopped his advance towards Espie a few feet from her, cheeks heated, and pressed his mouth shut when her look intensified.
“If you can’t even say the words,” she said firmly, “then you don’t get to piss a circle around me in public and mark your territory. I’m a grown woman, Luther. I’m the sister of my clan’s alpha, and I could even fill his shoes if I needed to. You do not need to fight every battle for me.” She huffed, her voice softening—but only somewhat. “I understand the urge. I want to keep you close and…and…I don’t know. But you can’t keep pulling the rug out from under me because you think I need saving. Because I don’t. You’ll know it if and when I do.”
They stared at one another for a few moments, the silence hanging heavy between them, and she knew, deep down, that her rage-induced speech wasn’t entirely because he had beat up a drunken guy for her. Luther threatened her independence. She had wanted a fated mate for so long, but now it seemed she risked losing such a big part of her if something changed.
When he stayed silent, sliding his hands into his pockets instead of responding, Espie turned on her heel and stalked the rest of the way to Miguel’s truck. Once inside, she threw her purse on the passenger seat, revved the engine before putting it into gear, and got the hell out of there.
And in the rearview mirror, she caught him watching her go, shoulders slumped and looking defeated.
