It wasn’t long before the taxi pulled up in front of the club where my brother was hanging out with our cousins, Theo, and Theo’s own cousins. The oldest Donati brother, Zariah’s twin brother, Zane, met us outside. The bouncer didn’t say a single word to us as Zane stepped forward once we were out of the taxi and ushered us through a side entrance.
River took one of Monroe’s hands, and I took the other, the three of us linking fingers as we followed Zane through the club and back to the VIP where all the guys were having a considerably better time than we had been.
Theo turned from where he was talking to Jack and Kingston. His eyes narrowed as we approached. “So, you just left Tavia? Nice, ladies.”
I shrugged. “If we could have snuck her away with us, we would have. But we couldn’t. And trust me, it was a good thing we did. Because if I’d stayed, your sister would not have looked so pretty in all those wedding photos you’ll be taking tomorrow.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he growled.
“Oh, please. She’s your sister. Don’t tell me you aren’t aware of what a spoiled little bitch she is.” Understanding filled his face, and he pressed his lips into a hard line. “Girl needs to take five minutes and realize she’s not the center of the universe.”
Sighing, he pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll take care of it.”
“How?” I asked, curious.
“There’s a reason why I have an entire army of men watching out for Tavia.” Lifting the phone to his ear, he spoke into it. “Ivan. Take Sofia home, and tell Yury to bring the others over here.” When he was done, he slid the phone back into his pocket. “The bar is open, girls. Order whatever you want. Do whatever makes you happy. Just don’t leave this area. My men can’t protect you if you’re running all over the club.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “I don’t need your men to protect me.”
“Be good, Mila,” Jack said, lifting his beer to his lips, looking so much like Uncle Hawk with that cocky as hell tilt to his chin.
He was only a few weeks older than me, but he acted like there were years between us. He, like Kingston, was an only child, but because we were all so close in age and our family was tight, that didn’t seem to matter.
I gave him a once-over. In tight jeans and a vintage rock T-shirt, he looked older than eighteen. His blond hair was always in need of a trim, it seemed, and his green eyes saw everything whether you wanted him to or not. Kingston looked a lot like Jack, so much so that they could have passed for brothers instead of first cousins.
Theo’s family must have owned the club because neither of them was even trying to hide the fact that they were underage and drinking. Theo said we could order whatever we wanted, so I was going to take full advantage of that generosity.
“Monroe, you thirsty?” I asked just as Maverick came up behind River.
His arms went around her tiny waist, and he kissed her neck. She sighed contentedly and leaned back against him, but not before Jack and Kingston narrowed their eyes on Mav. He gave them a smirk and kissed her again, his gray eyes daring them to say anything.
We were all “cousins,” but other than Lexa, we weren’t related to anyone by blood, so there wasn’t anything wrong with Maverick and River being together. Not that Jack or Kingston or anyone else cared about that. They were just overly protective of all us girls. Besides Lexa and Nova, River was the only other girl in the Hannigan family, so they tended to get just as overprotective as the dads did.
“I don’t want anything,” Monroe said, glancing around for somewhere to sit before walking over to an empty chair away from everyone else.
“What the hell’s up with her?” Maverick asked as he watched our sister curl up in the chair and rest her head on the back of it. She looked small, fragile, and so damn sad, it hurt just to look at her.
“She’s just PMSing,” I told him, effectively shutting him up. “I’m thirsty. See you losers later.”
“Be good, Mila,” Maverick called after me, echoing Jack’s earlier warning.
I flipped them all off as I walked away.
The music at this club was better, the lighting almost intimate and allowing for anonymity. As I glanced around on my way to the bar, I could only make out the shadows of people’s faces, and I wondered how many celebrities were partaking in the VIP treatment.
There was a line at the bar, even with five bartenders taking care of everyone. Groaning, I stood back, trying to see where the best place to squeeze through would be so I could order a drink.
“Fuck it,” I muttered to myself and just dived in.
I was tiny—maybe not as small as Mom, but enough that I could get into smaller places than Dad or Maverick ever could. I dipped under some guy’s arm and squeezed between two other men who were right at the bar. But as the one right beside me turned, his drink in hand, our gazes locked, and I suddenly found all the air pushing its way out of my lungs.
Holy hell, those eyes. This close, I could see the way they swirled, shifting from one shade of brown to another in the blink of any eye.
At first, I thought it was just the lighting. No way could a person’s eyes do that. Not without contacts or…something. But no. I saw no outline of contacts on the whites of his eyes.
I stood there, dumb struck and more than a little turned on—by just his fucking eyes—no doubt looking like a complete idiot. With eyes like that, he must have had girls throwing themselves at him all the time. They were…beautiful.
“What’s your name?” Beautiful Eyes demanded, his voice deep and full of all the hunger I was feeling low in my gut.
My mouth instantly snapped shut, and I shook my head, trying to clear it. I finally focused on the rest of him. And there was a lot of the rest of him. He had to be at least a foot taller than me, his hair dark and cut short. Something about his face struck a familiar chord in me, but I couldn’t immediately place him.
His shoulders were so wide, he took up the space of two people at the bar, making the black T-shirt he was wearing stretch tight over his massive muscles. His waist was lean and narrow, causing his jeans to hang low on his hips, and I felt a small shot of disappointment that they weren’t tighter across his crotch so I could see the outline of his cock. His boots were black and scuffed, as if they were his favorite pair and he couldn’t bear to part with them.
Licking my lips, I lifted my gaze and collided with those mesmerizing brown eyes again. A soft breath escaped me, and I took a step closer to him.
Only for the guy beside him to chuckle and snap me out of my lust-filled daze for the second time in as many seconds.
Angry with myself for reacting to him like that, I turned and glared at the bartender who was standing right in front of me now. “I’m with Volkov,” I snapped at him, and the guy nodded, leaning forward to hear me better over the music. “I’ll take a shot of Spirytus if you have it.”
The bartender’s eyes widened as he skimmed his gaze over me. I was tiny, and Spirytus was 192 proof. It was my drink of choice, though, and I might have snuck in and filled a flask—or five—from Hannigans’ bar on occasion.
“We don’t carry Spirytus,” he said, but I smelled a lie.
“Balkan vodka, then,” I snipped. “Don’t tell me you don’t carry that, asshat. I said I’m here with Volkov, and I know for a fact that he keeps that shit everywhere.” It was a lie. I didn’t know what kind of liquor he kept anywhere, but it was a safe assumption to make.
“The lady wants Spirytus,” Beautiful Eyes said from beside me, leaning closer to me. “I just saw you pour those two jerk-offs down the bar a line of shots of it.”
“She weighs a buck ten, if that,” the bartender told him, his jaw tight. “I can’t give her that stuff. She’ll be in the hospital two shots in.”
“You ever drink this stuff before, baby?” Beautiful Eyes asked.
I turned my glare on him. “I’m not your baby. And yeah, I’ve drunk it plenty. My uncles own a bar.”
“You haven’t
told me your name yet, so until you do, you’re ‘baby.’ How many shots before you’re wasted?” he asked, his eyes continuing to swirl. I’d never thought brown was pretty before, but right then, I didn’t think I’d ever seen a more beautiful color. I just couldn’t decide which was my favorite shade.
“Three,” I told him honestly, unsure why I was admitting it. “Not that it matters. My brother won’t let me get into trouble.”
He leaned in and lowered his head. “What would it take to make you want to get into a little trouble…with me?”
Chapter 3
Lyric
New York City had some good clubs, I’d give it that, but it wasn’t LA. Still, it was where the best tattoo artist in the country was located. I’d been dreaming of working with the guy since I was sixteen and snuck out to get my first tat with my brother. As I’d watched the tattoo gun mark my skin, I’d suddenly known what I wanted to do with my life with a clarity that had forced all the air from my body for a second.
Tonight, I was celebrating because not only had I scored an interview with Dustin Branch, my idol—without the help of my aunt—but I’d gotten the call over dinner that the job was mine. Stephen, my college roommate and friend, suggested we grab drinks and find some fun at a club where his friend worked as a bouncer.
Turned out, the bouncer friend didn’t work there anymore, but one call and I’d made sure we were let in without having to wait in line and shown directly to the VIP. Having a brother-in-law who owned the hottest club in all of California had its perks, even all the way across the country.
Finding the hot little chick beside me at the bar while I was getting a drink, though?
I suddenly had a flash of the future as I looked down into her stunning gray eyes. I was going to introduce this chick to my mom. I was going to take her home and make sure Aunt Emmie found me the biggest diamond ring her tiny hand could hold, and as soon as she had my last name, I was going to make her a mother.
Realizing all of that wasn’t a punch to the gut. It didn’t blindside me.
No, just looking down at her, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying something that might scare the hell out of her and send her screaming in the opposite direction from the crazy guy standing in front of her, already planning her future.
Our future.
And she still hadn’t told me her name.
“I’m Lyric,” I told her when she didn’t answer my question about what it would take to get her to cause some trouble with me, and I offered her my hand.
She stared at it for a few seconds before finally placing her considerably smaller one in mine. As soon as her warmth touched my palm, I felt a zap of electricity shoot through my body, shocking my heart and going straight for my cock.
Fuck, this girl was potent. Just the touch of her hand on mine was enough to have my cock leaking against my thigh.
“Mila,” she said, her eyes narrowing on our hands as if she felt exactly what I’d just felt and couldn’t figure out what was going on.
“What’s your favorite color, Mila?” I asked, lowering my head so I could see her eyes better, wanting to memorize where the small lighter flecks of blue were in her irises.
Her gaze snapped to mine, and she inhaled once deeply before slowly letting it out. “Right now? Russet. No, wait. Amber. Yeah, amber.”
I was expecting purple or blue or even black—considering that was the color her nails were painted and her hair was dyed a glossy jet black that suited her skin tone. Surprised at her answer, I grinned. “What’s your second favorite color?”
Her brow pinched as she studied my eyes. “I can’t decide. Why do you want to know?”
Because my next tattoo was going to have her favorite colors incorporated into it. But I didn’t tell her that. Instead, I tore my gaze from her and looked at the bartender. “One shot of the Spirytus.” She said three would get her wasted and I wanted her clearheaded, but I wouldn’t deny her one shot.
The bartender muttered something but lined up the shot. I tossed down some cash, but Mila pushed it back to me. “I’m here with Volkov,” she told the guy for the third time, and a bolt of jealousy hit me, making me want to punch whoever the hell Volkov was.
“She’s here with me,” I snarled at the bartender, pushing the cash at him. “Whatever she drinks, I pay for it. Understand?”
“Yeah, dude, relax.” He took the money and then started to hand over the change, but I shook my head.
“Keep it.” Picking up the shot, I handed it to Mila, then picked up my tall glass of draft. “Here’s to causing trouble,” I told her as I tapped my pint glass against the shot glass.
A grin tilted up one side of her mouth. Fuck, she was beautiful. “Causing trouble is my full-time job,” she said with a sassy little wink before tossing back the shot.
She swallowed it without flinching, and I swear to all my aunt’s gods I almost came right then. I reached out, clutching the edge of the bar top, praying for control, yet at the same time, all too happy to give every ounce of it over to her.
Stephen coughed beside me, and when I looked at him, I saw he was watching her with a hunger that matched my own. Jealousy, something I couldn’t ever remember feeling before setting eyes on Mila, pushed down on me like a tsunami, and I was seconds away from punching my friend in the face.
As if sensing how close to death he was, Stephen turned his face neutral. “Think I’m gonna call it a night, man. You… Yeah, you have fun.” His lips tilted up in a ghost of a smile, and he saluted me as he backed away. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll go looking for an apartment for you or whatever.”
I didn’t return the smile. Just watched him go until the crowd swallowed him up.
“I don’t like the color of your eyes when you’re pissed,” Mila commented, placing her glass on the bar top. “All the other colors are pretty, some even beautiful, but this murky brown isn’t my favorite at all.”
Forgetting all about Stephen, I focused on her. The tension leaving my body, I found myself fighting a grin. “My eyes? Is that why you said amber was your favorite color?”
Her even, white teeth sank into her bottom lip for just a flash of a moment before she released it and shrugged. “Guilty. Ah, they’re back to being russet. Damn. I’m leaning more toward that than the amber now…” She lifted her hand and traced her thumb under my left eye in a butterfly-soft caress that gave me serious jelly-leg.
What the actual hell? I’d never been weak-kneed in my life, yet one barely there touch of her soft-as-a-rose-petal skin and I was having to hold on for dear life to keep myself upright.
And I fucking liked it.
“Damn it. They’re back to being amber. I love that color.” She sighed dramatically, and we both grinned. “What does it mean when your eyes are amber?” she demanded in the next moment, stepping closer and looking up at me through her lashes.
Catching her hand, I placed her palm flat against the center of my chest, letting her feel how hard my heart was pounding, and lowered my head until my lips skimmed her ear. “What do you think it means, my Mila?”
I felt her heart rate jack up before she shivered, heard her sharp inhale that made her amazing rack press up against the low neckline of her top. I caught her gaze, saw the simmering hunger banked in the depths of her gray eyes, and knew I wasn’t ever going to be the same again.
All these years, I’d been skeptical of my brother’s claim that he’d always known Violet was the one for him. Even when we were all little kids, he’d gone on and on about her being his other half from the moment he set eyes on her.
It wasn’t that I didn’t believe he and Violet had a special connection. It wasn’t even that I doubted they loved each other and had since they understood what that word meant.
No, it was that someone could know so instantaneously another person belonged to them.
But right then, I understood.
And I wasn’t going to fuck it up like Luca had with Violet.
Having seen
what my brother had gone through when he’d lost his other half, I refused to put myself through the same misery.
“Tell me everything there is to know about Mila,” I commanded, holding her hand hostage against my heart. “I need every detail.”
“Did you know the russet and amber swirl together at times?” she murmured, seeming not to have heard what I’d said as she continued to stare up at my eyes. Her tongue drifted between her lips, the tip brushing over her bottom one. Transfixed, I followed the movement, wanting to taste her so fucking badly my chest heaved as I sucked in each breath. “They are right now, and I can’t seem to make myself look away.”
“Then don’t,” I rasped.
She blinked a few times and then shook her head as if to clear it. Sucking in a fortifying breath, she tried to step back, but I still held on to her hand. And I wasn’t letting go.
“Did you just move here?” she asked, taking my beer out of my hand and swallowing a large gulp. A few drops clung to her pillowy bottom lip, and I ached to lick them away. “Your friend said you needed to find an apartment.”
“Just landed my dream job,” I told her. Unable to stop myself, I used my thumb to rub away the droplets of beer, then sucked it into my mouth.
Goddamn, but that tasted good.
“So, you’re not from around here?” I shook my head, still sucking on the pad of my thumb, wanting to get every trace of her taste I could.
“Me either. We’re only here for my cousin’s wedding. Which is tomorrow. Then my aunt has to get back to Cali in case my other cousin, Lexa, goes into labor early. She’s not due for a few more weeks, but as big as she is with that baby boy, she’s liable to pop any day now.”
My heart stopped as the realization of what she was saying hit me like a ton of bricks had just been dumped on my head. “You don’t live here?”
“No. I live in Northern California. This is just a quick visit.” She took another thirsty sip of my beer.
Savoring Mila (Angels Halo MC Next Gen & Rockers' Legacy Book 3) Page 2