by Allie Gail
Stifling a laugh, Loc tilts his head closer to mine and whispers, “Let's not be rude, darling. We wouldn't want Silas to feel nonessential, would we?”
I shoot him a look that conveys just how stupid I find his excuse. Shaking my head, I concentrate instead on checking out the passing scenery. It isn't fully dark out yet, so I might as well take in the sights while I can. Strange as it may seem, I've never had the opportunity to visit Colorado before. Up until now, I've led a pretty sheltered life.
The landscape, obviously, varies greatly from the flat plains of Kansas. Here, we are surrounded by majestic mountains and lush evergreens dusted in white. An authentic ice paradise. It's as if we've been miniaturized and are winding our way through a snow globe. I gaze out the window in awe as the sun sets behind the mountain peaks, gradually disappearing from sight, leaving behind a vast expanse of fiery orange and dark violet.
Nestled in the heart of all this natural beauty is the historic district. A quaint little affair, tucked cozily between two mountain passes, it resembles a gold rush town frozen in time. Perfectly preserved buildings, some painted in vivid pastel colors, neatly line the streets. From what Loc has told me, Silverton got its start as a mining community. Today, cafés and eclectic little gift shops take the place of what must've once been trading posts, hotels and saloons.
I am completely smitten.
Silas drops us off in front of a modest but chic gray brick building. The vintage hanging sign reads Silver Mill Tavern. There aren't a lot of cars out front, but it's early yet. Hopefully this means we won't have to wait long for our food. I'm so hungry I don't even care what they serve here. Bologna sandwiches would appeal to me at this point.
Within moments we're seated at a table by the window, and Loc is ordering scotch on the rocks while I opt for a glass of iced tea.
“So. What's good here?” I scan the menu, finding the usual fare of steaks, chicken and an array of salads. They also offer some lavish pasta dishes. Or at least, the descriptions make them sound that way.
Linguine carbonara with pancetta, mushrooms and asparagus. Sounds...yeah, I'm gonna pass on that.
“They have excellent steaks. I'm partial to the filet myself.”
My eyes stray from the menu to ogle the view across from me. That devil is way too hot for his own good. Almost too gorgeous to be real. It's still hard to believe he isn't a figment of my imagination. The edges of his dark hair are curling against the collar of his shirt, such a small thing really, but there is something so strangely provocative about it. I already know how soft and silky those locks are. And how they feel brushing against the inside of my thighs.
And that mouth. Those full, perfectly formed lips...mmm. They were just made for kissing.
Forged in Hell, and yet they taste like Heaven.
Loc is perusing the restaurant with the distinctly bored expression I've witnessed many times before. As if the world and its dreary inhabitants aren't nearly stimulating enough for him.
Without looking my way, he murmurs softly, “See something you like?”
Is he talking about the menu, or...?
Playing it safe, I reply, “I don't know. It all looks good.”
“Does it?” He turns his head to stare at me, and I can't tear my gaze away from those hypnotic eyes. “All of it? Are you sure?”
I wet my lips. Oh, my... “Positive.”
Smirking, he lifts his glass and polishes off the rest of his scotch. “I think we both have one-track minds. How fortuitous that they seem to lead in the very same direction.”
“That is fortuitous.” I couldn't agree more.
“Careful, love. I'm not averse to public indecency.”
Before I can think of a snappy comeback, the waitress sidles up to our table. What did she say her name was? Kelly? No, wait – the name on her tag says Kali.
“Have you decided yet?” She's trying to act all casual, but the way her eyes keep flickering to Loc are a dead giveaway. Poor thing – she's captivated by him as well.
Barely glancing at her, he rattles off his order with concise precision. “I'll have the peppercorn-crusted filet mignon, medium rare, with broccoli gratin and the duchess baked potatoes.”
“You got it.” She taps this into her electronic order pad. “Ready for another drink yet?”
“Obviously.”
We both blink at him in surprise. That was kind of rude. Yes, his glass is empty, but there was no reason to get snippy about it.
Flustered, Kali turns her attention to me. “Um...and for you?”
“You know what, I'll just have the same,” I tell her. May as well keep things simple. Besides, what he ordered sounds scrumptious. “Except could you make mine medium, please?”
“Sure thing.” She gathers up the menus and scurries away, but I catch her sneaking another peek over her shoulder. A moment later I see her whispering to another server, who immediately looks our way. Her mouth drops open when she catches sight of Loc.
It's hard not to giggle at her reaction. I wonder if that's what I looked like the first time I saw him?
Plucking a roll out of the basket on the table, I nibble at it before asking Loc, “What's got you in a mood all of a sudden?”
He seems mystified. “What do you mean?”
“You were a little rude just now, don't you think?”
“Was I?”
“Yes. You were kind of an ass to that waitress.”
“And?” The way he's wrinkling his nose makes it clear that her feelings are of little consequence to him.
“And...I was just wondering why.”
He cocks his head, appraising me curiously. “Why does it matter to you whether I'm nice to some person you've never seen before and likely will never see again?”
“Um...I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you can't go around treating people like dirt. It's just not right.”
“Says who?”
“Says everyone who's ever been talked to like they're dirt!”
“You've lost me.”
“Could you at least try and keep up?” I swear, sometimes I think he's acting dense on purpose. Like it's a game to see how far he can push me. “Being polite – good. Being a total dick – bad. Comprende?”
A shadow of a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “Got it. Total dick, bad. I'll see what I can do.”
He'll see what he can do. Great. Wonderful. I can see Kali returning with his scotch now, and all I can do is pray he isn't about to make a scene.
“There you go,” she says, hesitantly setting the glass in front of him.
Looking up at her, Loc turns on the charm with a dazzling megawatt smile. “Such efficient service! Thank you so much, lovely. I do hope the evening is treating you well.”
The woman freezes, her hand hovering in midair. To her credit, she snaps out of it fairly quickly, though her eyes are large and flummoxed as she stammers, “Oh! That's so...yes. Yes, it is. You're welcome. I mean, thank you. Ah...ahem...is there anything else I can get for you?”
“I think we're fine for now, my dear. Just wonderful.” He gives her a lazy wink that is destined to transform her into putty in his hands.
Blushing, she tears her gaze away from him long enough to shoot me a bewildered look. I know how she feels. There isn't a woman alive who could resist his raw magnetism. A mere smile from him is like getting cold-cocked – you have no idea what just happened or how you could have prevented it.
But as she turns away, she is grinning from ear to ear, and there is a renewed pep in her step as she bounces off toward the kitchen.
“Now look at that,” I point out. “See how happy you made her? Just by being nice.”
Instead of agreeing, Loc stares at me incredulously. “I will never understand you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you focus on the most trivial things.”
Shrugging, I take a sip of my iced tea. “Guess you were right about us following the same track. Because I don't th
ink I'll ever understand you either.”
“I don't think I'm that hard to figure out.”
“You're kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding.”
“Not at all.” Reaching across the table, he takes one of my hands in his and strokes it with his thumb. “As long as I get what I want, I'm fairly easy to deal with.”
“As long as you get what you want, hm?”
“That's right.” His voice is low, sensual. Every word a seduction. Every breath an enticement.
“And what happens if, God forbid, you don't get something you want?”
“I couldn't really say. You see, that's never happened.”
“No?”
“No. Never.”
“And what is it you want from me, oh overindulged one?”
“I'm sure you already know the answer to that.” His laser blue eyes sparkle with a wolfish gleam. “But maybe what you're fishing for is details. Is that it, pet? Are you interested in knowing, precisely, some of the lewd thoughts that are running through my mind right now?”
Glancing around to make sure there's no one close enough to overhear, I give him a nod while slowly unfurling a smile.
“You want to know what I was just thinking?”
Once again, I nod.
“I was thinking it's a bloody shame you aren't wearing a dress tonight.”
I look down at the cargo pants and cable knit sweater pulled from my paltry selection. I have to admit I dressed more for warmth than style. In case he hasn't noticed, the weather is cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.
“You said casual,” I remind him.
“Yes, I did. But you see, a skirt would make it easier for me to bend you over the table and enjoy a little before-dinner apéritif.” He turns my hand over, palm up, and trails his fingers along it slowly. “Maybe shock some life into these people. Wake them from the dreary slumber of mindless monotony.”
“Oh, it would wake them up all right,” I mumble, distracted by the light touch. It almost tickles, and the feeling is erotic.
“What do you think? Can you see these uptight sheep condescending to appreciate the beauty of such an act?”
“What, the 'beauty' of public indecency? Doubtful.” Would he actually do something like that? Surely not. Nah, he's just trying to get a reaction out of me. It seems to be his new favorite pastime.
“Doubtful, she says.”
“I think at the very least we'd be kicked out of here. If not arrested.”
“You think so?” His smirk suggests that he thinks otherwise.
“You don't?”
His fingers close around my wrist, and for some inexplicable reason I find myself trying to memorize his features as he drones on in his musical voice.
“What I think is this. The strings of every puppet in this room would automatically jerk in the same direction. Every one of them feigning disgust, gasping to one another in duplicitous indignation, all while making a grand comparison between their own pious respectability and our complete lack thereof. So yes, I must concur that you are indeed spot on in your assessment. But stop and look at the whole picture. What happens when these same puppets are behind closed doors, strings detached, the rest of the world locked away from sight? Will the charade continue? No. They will instead fall to their knees and surrender to the bestial desires so carefully concealed. They will yield to every pleasure dredged up from the depths of their sanctimonious hearts. Glutting their appetites until nothing is left but burning shame. And afterwards, will go on pretending to be paragons of virtue. Because humans, my dear, are the worst kind of hypocrites. If there's anything I've learned, it's that.”
Well. That was certainly enlightening. And not at all bitter.
“We aren't all hypocrites,” I contend. “I'm sure some are, of course, but I think in most cases it's just that we're flawed. And maybe we're afraid of having those flaws shoved under a spotlight for everyone to point at and ridicule. So we try and hide them. We do our best to fit in through conformity because we're afraid of being labeled different or weird.”
“Perhaps,” Loc murmurs, though clearly unconvinced.
“You're half human yourself. Just remember that every time you choose to bash the lot of us.”
“Who's bashing? I was just stating the obvious.” Releasing my wrist, he leans forward on both arms, lips curving in a conspiratorial smile. “So. Should we try it and see what happens?”
He's joking. Isn't he? God, I hope so. “I think I'm gonna have to give that one a big fat no.”
“We'd have to make it a flash bang, of course,” he continues, eyes ablaze with wicked humor. “The service here is usually very prompt. And we wouldn't want our food to get cold.”
“Something tells me we wouldn't be getting served at all after a stunt like that.”
“It all comes down to individual appetite. What you're most hungry for.” One of his brows arches ever so slightly. “What are you hungry for?”
Lowering my head, I nervously tuck a wayward lock of hair behind my ear. “Loc,” I whisper. “That's just...twisted.”
“And yet the very idea has you flushing and biting your lip. How very telling.”
Now I'm the one raising an eyebrow.
He crooks a finger and when I lean in to hear what he has to say, his lips are inches from mine. “Personally, I would love it. The entire world bearing witness to what you do to me. What I do to you. The way our bodies move so perfectly in sync. Hearing those little sounds you make in your throat. Vicariously feeling every thrust until I fill your tight, wet pussy with every drop of my cum. Don't you think that would be hot?”
Hot? No. A five-alarm fire would be hot. Public indecency with Locryn Price would be volcanoes erupting and stars exploding into supernovas.
It is also a place that I am not willing to go.
“Do all cambions have such dirty mouths?” I tease softly.
“I think you like my dirty mouth. I know you loved what I was doing with it earlier.”
He isn't wrong about that. I thought my orgasm would go on forever.
“I'm rather partial to the things you do with your mouth,” he adds, tracing my lips with the tip of his index finger. “You took me quite by surprise in the limo. I figured you'd be a spirited little filly in bed, but I never expected you to go down on me with such enthusiasm.”
“What can I say? I was feeling inspired.” It's stupid, I know, but I can't help feeling pleased that I was able to catch him off guard for a change.
“Your inspiration is ready to get you home and play with you some more.”
“Really? More Quiplash, or would you prefer another game of poker?”
“Naughty girl. Keep it up and I may not wait that long. I may just have my way with you in the car. We'll take bets on how long Silas can keep his eyes on the road. What do you think of that?”
Something smacks my elbow, and I absently look around to see a rotund little boy of three or four go streaking past. Tufts of unruly hair stick out in all directions, and his shirt has come untucked from pants that are way too long for his stubby legs.
“Hey.” Cupping my chin, Loc gently turns my face back to him, demanding my attention. “I'm over here.”
I lose myself in his eyes, and wonder crazily how I ever could've believed that I stood a chance against this strange and beguiling creature. To think, in the beginning I truly believed I had the situation under control.
Right now I'm so far from control, I doubt I could find my way back to it with a map, a GPS and a trail of breadcrumbs.
“What...do you think...of that?” he repeats in a low drawl.
I decide my best recourse is to play dumb. “What do I think of what?”
Annoyance flickers across his face, but fortunately Kali arrives at that moment with our food. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or grateful for the interruption. She has her own problems, though – mainly trying to dodge the rambunctious tyke who is now galloping circles around her on an imaginary horse
. He stomps across one of her feet, and the harried woman comes dangerously close to capsizing both plates on our table.
All three of us cringe as the wannabe cowboy stops to screech at the top of his lungs. “EE-E-E-EEE!” I think he's trying to impersonate a whinny, but if you ask me it sounds more like someone just ran over a hyena.
“Cute kid.” Loc makes a face, and I can't help snorting a laugh.
“Yeah. Precious. Wish I had six just like him.” Kali rolls her eyes as she sets the plates in front of us. “Would you care for anything else? Some steak sauce, maybe?”
Loc gives me a questioning look, and I shake my head. “No, thanks,” he tells her. “I think we're good to go here.”
“Okay then. Just let me know if you need anything.” Leaving us with a friendly smile, Kali turns and limps away, favoring her left foot while muttering something about a certain butt that could do with a good tanning.
“I hope she's talking about the kid,” I joke, cutting into my filet mignon. It looks delectable. The savory aroma wafts up, causing my stomach to growl in response.
“Maybe she meant you. I have to admit, the thought has crossed my mind more than once.”
“That's just because you're a pervert.” Miraculously, the steak tastes even better than it smells. And the potatoes? To die for. The place is beginning to fill up, and no wonder. With food like this, it must be popular with the locals.
“EE-E-E-EEE!”
Seriously? I listen, expecting an adult voice to cut in and hush the shrieking child, but all I hear instead is the sound of a glass breaking somewhere at the far end of the restaurant. I'd be willing to wager the mini cowboy had a hand in that.
“How's your food?” Loc wants to know.
“It's wonderful!” Even the broccoli is heavenly. Broccoli! Who knew you could turn a bland green vegetable into something so mouthwatering? These people are culinary geniuses. “I have to admit, you've got great taste.”
“That I do.” He looks up at me with a suggestive smile.
“I was talking about the restaurant. Do you come here a lot?”
“Only a few times, actually. I haven't been in Silverton that long.”
“No? Where'd you live before?”