by T. A. Grey
The song ended and she cheered along with the rest of the crowd. The man grinned down at her and stuck his hand out. “Tony. What’s your name, baby?”
Her skin crawled just a bit. She wasn’t used to anyone calling her names like that, but it wasn’t his fault. “Vanessa.” He held her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, which embarrassingly, made her giggle. He grinned even wider. She had to practically shout over the loud music as she said, “I’m gonna get a drink.”
“Let me buy it for you, baby.”
She shook her head. She didn’t know him and she’d heard enough stories about the kind of shit men could do to a woman’s drink, so she headed to the bar with a little wave and ordered another hurricane. She paid for it, started sipping on it through the tall straw and danced to the music. She spotted Tony coming down the stairs after her; he lifted his head in greeting.
The effects of the alcohol were doing its job. Her body felt looser, warmer, and lithe. Her eyes felt hooded, like they didn’t quite know if they wanted to stay open or not and that was fine with her. She felt sexy as she rolled her hips under the spinning lights up above; she felt anonymous. Tony smiled down at her and spun around her, his hand settling on her hips. She wasn’t completely comfortable with his hands there. At first, she stiffened, but his hands didn’t glide forward, up, down or anywhere else so she relaxed and leaned back into him, sipping away at her hurricane.
“You’re gorgeous,” Tony said in her ear.
She smiled like an idiot. No one ever called her gorgeous, or pretty, or cute or babe, for that matter.
Her head seemed to spin in time with dancing lights painting the dark room in circles of pink and white. She let herself relax into Tony, and when his hands spanned across her stomach she bit her lip in disappointment that sparks didn’t fly. Damn, it wouldn’t be him. She finished her drink, turned around, and smiled sadly.
“Sorry, but I have to go.”
“What? Come on baby, things were just getting good.”
She shook her head, deposited her empty glass on the bar, then waved goodbye to Tony and started wading back upstairs.
“Fucking bitch!”
She stiffened, but kept going. Now that nickname she was totally used to. Joseph called her bitch. Or fucking bitch most of the time. He never even used her name.
It must be the alcohol, but as she made it back in with the heavy pile of bodies, she’d nearly forgotten all about the human’s barb. This time, her eyes were alight with something. She felt loose and sexy enough to do it. She danced her way through couples and groups of girls looking for a man who’d spark that something special deep inside, that something she’d felt dreaming about Brayden and then really felt when she kissed him. That one kiss made her wet and eager to try more, taste more. Tonight, she’d get it one way or the other—hopefully.
A tall figure came down the stairs from the upper floor. Now that was a man; tall, broad shouldered, but not with the bulky weight like the bouncer outside. She liked muscles, but not serious-looking muscles; it just wasn’t for her. This man wore a white T-shirt which must have been what initially drew her attention to him. The white shirt seemed to glow in the dark room where most everyone wore darker clothes. He waded through the dancers and she bit her lip as she made her plan of attack. Did she ask if he was here with someone first? Did she just ask him to dance, then do some heavy grinding?
His face still clung in the shadows; the sweeping lights never seemed to illuminate him. A few women darted glances, then full on smiles up at him as he passed. Then it dawned on her. He was coming right toward her. Shit. She struggled to get her sloth-slow brain to come up with an idea on how to nab him; he had to be the one. He was the only one who’d caught her eye this whole night. And after two hurricanes, she easily felt like making out with someone. She giggled a little, but that died a moment later.
The white shirted man came into view, pushing a dancing kid out of the way and ignoring his protest. He stepped in front of her and, in an instant, she recognized the piercing gray eyes, the long ridge of his nose, the hard line of his slightly stubble jaw.
“Oh, hell,” she whispered, glad she had put down her empty hurricane glass ’cause she would have dropped it just then. Brayden came into full view, his tall body hard. Angry tension radiated off him in waves. Others seemed to recognize it too, because they subconsciously moved away, parting around them in a circle.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Her heart pounded hard and way too fast. He cussed. Brayden didn’t cuss. Except he had twice now with her, and each time it made her a whole lot scared and a whole lot more excited.
“Dancing.” She knew her answer came out as a whisper, but his vampiric hearing picked it up easily because he stepped closer, his teeth actually clenched and bared.
“You’re coming home with me.” He moved to grab her arm but she stepped back, bumping into some dancers. She mumbled an apology and shot him a dirty look.
“No, I’m not. I just got here.”
His lips closed and his eyes seemed to get angrier, his entire body harder. God, why did that excite her?
“You’ve been gone for over an hour.”
A new song came over the loud speakers and the rhythm spoke to her on some primal level. Her body started swaying, dipping a little. She had to keep her moves, or what she had of them, under wraps because she had a feeling he wouldn’t like seeing her having fun.
“Feels like longer than that.” No wonder people came to dark, wicked places like this, dancing with strangers, drinking and relaxing in a way that otherwise seemed impossible.
He stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. Her whole chest suddenly felt heavy and hard to breathe as he yanked her forward. She knew what he was trying to do. He was going to drag her out of the club and take her to his boring, perfectly clean house. She wasn’t going to let him do it. Because of him, Joseph knew she was with him, or at least in Chicago. Because of him, what little she’d worked toward was ruined. Because of him, she’d set forth her little goals and began carrying them out. That one she could actually applaud him for, because otherwise she wouldn’t be here right now feeling loose and out of control.
She let him tug her wrist and went falling forward into his chest. He tried to tug her with him, but she maneuvered just right so her palms landed against the warm soft cotton of his T-shirt. God, he looked fucking good. Like hot damn good in that tee. It was a normal white crew neck with a pocket on the front. Looked like a five dollar shirt from a discount store or a Walmart, but on him, she wanted to rip it apart from the collar down and lick her way down his chest.
“Now is not the time to fuck around with the mood I’m in. Do you hear me? We’re getting the hell out of here.”
Three curse words now and her knees went weak. Her fingers dug into his chest and all kinds of hot sensations blew up inside her. She went wet, her breasts heavy. He was so hard, had strength and muscles in places she didn’t, that she really wanted to learn about...with her fingers and tongue.
“Dance with me,” she whispered, her voice ragged with untapped need.
His body turned even harder beneath her fingertips. His eyes bore into hers, a whole lot angry, and a little something else. God, she wanted that something else to be what was making her want to wrap every inch of her body around him right now until they were fused together.
“No, Vanessa. Now I’m warning you, I’m about ten seconds from picking your little ass up and carrying you out of here.”
A fourth curse word from his oh-so-controlled mouth. That definitely made her heart skip a beat. “Why do you care?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed and his jaw bulged. “You’re under my protection and you snuck out of my house and didn’t tell me where you were going. Something could have happened.”
Her hands had a mind of their own and flattened, rubbing up his chest to curl around his shoulders. God, that felt good. He had hard shoulders with a dip in front
where the muscle flared at the back. She bit her lip as she grew wetter between her legs.
“How did you find me?”
He flicked his hard gaze to her hands then shoved them away, but she wouldn’t be denied. Not with the warmth flowing through her body like warm honey. So she grabbed his waist and wanted to moan at the hard muscle there, but she pressed on until she had her arms wrapped around him, her breasts pressed flat to the heat of his hard stomach.
And he didn’t push her away, but he did send her a warning look. “I have GPS in the car. I can track it with my phone.”
“Sounds fancy,” she murmured, her eyes memorizing the hard plane of his chest. She could just see the outline where his pectoral met his abdomen. She wet her lip as her mouth tingled to press against that spot. His body was hard everywhere, so unlike her mate’s.
His lip twitched in an angry way. “How drunk are you? Do you think you can walk out of here without my help?”
The song picked up its sultry, throbbing tempo and she started dancing around his big strong body, rubbing her breasts against him, sliding her thighs around his. She dipped low at a particular point in the song and grazed her cheek along the button of his jeans, and boy did he look sexy as hell in jeans. The man should be forbidden from ever wearing a suit or those preppy golf clothes again, because it was sin to hide that gorgeous body from view. She dipped just a little more and her nose slid down along his zipper before she rolled her chest forward and stood.
“Dance with me.” She stared into his eyes, begging him to give in, to give her this moment.
But now he looked like he was about to explode in anger.
“I warned you,” was all he said and then he bent and lifted her into his arms so easily. He sent threatening glares at everyone until they cleared a path for him. The man acted like he owned the place.
“Oh, God,” she whispered and buried her head in his neck to hide the raging fire blazing her burning cheeks. “This is so embarrassing.”
Well, in a small way it was nice, because she got to wrap her arms around his neck which felt very hard and strong under her fingertips.
“God, you’re strong.”
“Shut up, Vanessa.”
She did, but not because he told her to. She curled closer in his arms because, wow, did he feel warm and powerful. Every cord of muscle pressed against her felt hard and firm. She heard a door open then cool air swept her hair back. It also carried his scent closer. She breathed in deeply, then buried her nose in his neck. His arms tightened around her, which her body must have taken as an invitation, because she sucked in that delicious masculine scent then pressed her lips there.
His neck flexed under her lips. “Stop that, woman.”
She laughed a little. No wonder people drank. She had no worries, her whole body felt amazing and she had a sexy-ass man carrying her like she weighed nothing. It’d be romantic if he wasn’t walking as fast as he could and every word out of his mouth spewed with anger. That and his body pulsed with anger like he wanted to hit something or shout up a storm. Oh, well.
She darted her tongue out and licked at his neck. Her body and breasts throbbed. He even tasted good, warm and masculine. Her fingers itched to touch him, so she did. She trailed her fingertips across the back of his neck then up into his hair. His soft hair tickled her fingers and she loved the way the slightly curling locks wrapped around her fingers.
Suddenly, he swung her out of his arms and propped her up against something. Dazedly, she looked behind her to find his SUV there. “What about my car?” she said, proud her words didn’t slur; at least, not to her ears.
He shook his head, unlocked the door, then grabbed her waist. Every cell in her body flared to life, her eyes widened and she grabbed his biceps.
“Brayden...” He looked down at her. That anger still glowered there. “Will you kiss me?” she whispered.
He shook his head once and his eyes narrowed on her. Then he plucked her up and shoved her in the passenger seat. He didn’t wait for her to do it herself, but buckled her in, then slammed the door shut. She sighed and it felt like an hour later before he settled into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and took off.
“What about the car?” she asked again. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him; she just felt so hungry. She also couldn’t keep her lower body still. She just squirmed around, her legs scissoring against each other, which only made her feel edgier.
“I’ll get it tomorrow. God, what the fuck were you thinking, Vanessa? Were you really going to drive home drunk?”
Her eyebrows rose. She hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. At the very least, she’d have called a car, or hell, even him.
He snorted, shaking his head. “Fucking stupid and young,” he muttered, but now low enough that her drunken mind didn’t hear his words as clearly as if he’d yelled them.
She saw red in an instant. Spinning in her seat, she glared at him. “I’m not stupid, and I might be young, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He glanced at her for only a second or two, but she felt his anger surround her. “You didn’t plan. You didn’t tell me what was going on, and you easily put yourself in danger. Fuck, every woman knows you don’t go to a club alone, especially dressed like that.”
“Like what?” She couldn’t wait to hear this. Her mind was gearing up for a fight. She wanted one with him and bad, after what he’d done today.
He didn’t answer after a minute.
That made her yell. “Like what!”
“Like you’re looking for a damn fuck!” He yelled right back. His last word echoed once in the car before it faded, leaving her stunned and frozen.
“You think I’m a slut or something?” she asked in a soft, controlled voice. God, she couldn’t even believe this.
His hands curled hard around the wheel like he was trying to strangle it. “I didn’t say that.”
“Not in so many words.” Wow, she’d gone from hot to cold in a minute flat. The sexy, floaty feeling vanished, leaving her consumed with anger and bitterness. “What do you have against me being so young?”
“Just drop it, Vanessa. We’ll be home soon.”
“No, I’m serious. After what you did today, I think I at least deserve a fucking answer.”
He scratched at his head then ran an agitated hand down his face. “I’m warning you now, drop it.”
She laughed as if it what he said was the funniest thing ever. “Warning me? What could you possibly do to me that could be any worse than what he did?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze. The fight left her in an instant. She turned away and burrowed toward the door. Her face burned and she ground her jaw. Nothing like airing one’s dirty laundry to the man that made your blood pump.
“Vanessa,” he called in a soft voice.
Tears blurred her eyes, clinging to her mascara, but she ground her jaw until she got it under control.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Her head spun to him. “What?” She couldn’t hide the disbelief in her voice if she wanted to.
He looked at her, then back at the road, then settled on her eyes again. The anger had vanished from his eyes, leaving them warm and almost gentle. She didn’t really know if Brayden had it in him to be gentle. Her mind flashed to the night he saved her, carefully wrapping her in his jacket and carrying her all the way back to the pack. Okay, so maybe he did have it in him.
“I don’t think you’re a slut, Vanessa.”
She almost laughed. Wasn’t she the opposite of a slut anyway? Okay, well, maybe the opposite would mean she was a virgin, but considering her only sexual partner had been Joseph, and what a disgusting experience that had been, even she knew that didn’t count her as a slut. Hell, technically she’d done it ‘right’. She’d only ever had sex with her husband. Her lips pulled down and she tucked her arms around herself.
“It’s fine. Just forget it,” she said softly.
“Dammit...” he m
uttered.
A loud bang shot her straight up in her seat. She hadn’t seen it, but recognized that sound. He’d slammed his hand into the steering wheel. This got him that riled? Normally, she wasn’t one to give up, but even she had started to doubt her ability to taunt the great Justicar Brayden.
When they reached home, she didn’t say a word to him nor he to her. She trodded upstairs, closed the bedroom door behind her, and collapsed on the bed face first. She didn’t think about any of it. Just closed her eyes and fell asleep, which came rather easily—another point in alcohol’s favor.
Chapter 8
Brayden slid his feet to the floor and buried his face in his hands. Damn, if he hadn’t royally screwed up.
First, he’d had to make that phone call. He had to try that tact. He didn’t regret doing it at, and hell, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he thought his influence with the Justicars might intimidate Joseph into agreeing to the divorce. Shit, that man had sounded confident that he’d get Vanessa back, that she might just come back to him on her own. If only he knew...
No, that wasn’t what made his stomach feel like a queasy pile of shit or why he really needed to feed again, though he just did yesterday. Stress. Stress did that to him. His friend, Dmetri, had once joked with him that had he been human, he’d probably weight twice as much, because when the stress kicked in, he craved blood like nothing else.
Nah, what made him feel like shit was Vanessa. Too beautiful and way, way too young. Sure, she didn’t remind him of the teenaged girl she’d been when he first met her. She’d matured, that’s for sure. Her eyes didn’t shine as brightly as they used to. She had a shiftiness to her eyes when they were in public as if just waiting for her nightmare to appear. He had to help her; it felt like an uncontrollable force in his body to see her safe and happy. And he wanted to kill Joseph Harrington...with his bare fucking fists until the man squealed like the pig he was.