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I whirl, gripping my butter knife.
Noelle Patrick smiles a smile so toxic her scarlet lipstick should give off smoke. The red of her sleek gown sets off dark hair arranged with sparkling crystal hairpins, and if not for that subtle poisonous smirk, and the shine of malice in her eye that everyone else mistakes as charm, you could believe she’s the perfect pack princess.
Noelle has a Ken doll on her arm. Her pack leader’s smile is so plastic, his hair so perfectly smooth, I’m already bracing for all kinds of bullshit about strippers, golf, and tax evasion.
“It’s so wonderful to see you.” Noelle’s gaze drops to my neck, and I can feel her calculating. “Is this your new pack?”
Half of me wants to tuck and roll under the tablecloth, but I’ll die before I show weakness to my childhood bully. “I’m their guest.”
“You’re the talk of the party.” Noelle’s alpha flashes me a political rally grin, offering his hand. “Senator Charles Patrick.”
The arrogance of announcing yourself by your title fits the guy so perfectly. Before I can take the handshake that looks as welcoming as a dead pigeon, Finn intercepts.
“Charlie.” He shakes like he’s trying to dislocate the senator’s shoulder.
“Mr. Finnegan. Ah. Nice to see you again.” Charles steals back his hand a little too quickly.
“Senator.” Atlas slides between me and our guests, and his broad back cuts off my view of them.
Did he just shield me?
I’m trembling, gripping the butter knife so tight its scallop-shell design embosses my palm. Scooting his chair closer, Orion gives my hand a sympathetic squeeze.
I almost drop the knife.
My brain can’t do the math to calculate why the guys would protect me.
Like a predator who needs to keep me in her sights, Noelle glides around the table with her mate, putting them on the same side as Jett.
Atlas stands behind my chair. It should make me uncomfortable, but with his body heat at my back, and the subtle promise he’s offering, I’ve never been able to face Noelle so calmly. It also helps that Orion hasn’t let go of my hand, and Finn watches her over three knives buried tip-first in the tablecloth.
Noelle clenches her mate’s arm, but her viper red smile never slips. “What have you been up to all this time, Lilah? Goodness, it’s been ages.”
She says ages, but I remember every day, every corner I turned, and every closet I ducked in to stay out of her way. After Noelle and her drones kicked the shit out of me, I made sure she never spotted me again, keeping my ass hidden until the future senator and his politico-pack gave her the bite that finally removed the bitch from my life. Rachel’s probably been giving her sad status updates that they’ve been laughing over for years.
“Same old,” I answer. “Thanks for saying hi.”
I hope she’ll take a hint and disappear, but Noelle grins like a cat who sees a long tail in the grass. “Message me when you decide to go into rotation. I know so many lovely packs who’d love to have you for a heat.”
I could snatch one of Finn’s knives, vault the table, and slice her throat, but when I let myself play out the fantasy, I’d rather stab her somewhere less vital, ten or a hundred times with the blunt end of my butter knife.
Someone rumbles. Maybe it’s me, but I can’t look away from Noelle. We lock in a stare, and her pointed chin wobbles when I won’t back down. She’s used to me running and hiding, the first one to give in.
I’m not that girl anymore.
I don’t bow. Not to her.
Orion breaks the moment, wrapping a protective arm around the back of my chair, his body heat leeching into my shoulder. “She’s ours.”
I bite back a whine.
Fuck, that sounds goooood.
“I don’t see a mark.” Charles traces the column of my neck with a gaze so squidgy, I want to turtle-retract my head into my ribcage.
“You want to see a mark?” Finn yanks a knife from the tabletop. “I can give you a mark of your very own, Charlie. Right in the throat.”
Atlas rumbles, and I expect him to shut this down, to make me apologize. So I jump like a kitten when he sets a hand on my shoulder, wordlessly offering his protection.
