Loch hovered close, of course. He found them a table off to one side and while Taylor exclaimed over the decorations and how the beer steins were straight out of the game, he glared at every man who came close enough to gawk at Taylor’s costume. She looked magnificent—far too magnificent for this crowd, he thought grumpily.
“Silenus?” Taylor squealed, and jumped up out of her chair to go hug a friend, a middle-aged, bearded man dressed like a bard. They chatted for several minutes, and Silenus kept casting Loch nervous glances. Good, Loch thought sourly, drinking his beer.
“Him?” Taylor said after a few minutes. “Oh, that’s my boss. He’s here to learn about the game.”
And Loch gritted his teeth. Damn that arse Sigmund for making Taylor have to lie to people about if they were together or not. Right now, he wanted to go King Kong on the entire room of leering men and drag Taylor away. But she was enjoying herself, the smile on her face bright enough to light up the the city, and he forced himself to sit and play bodyguard, just in case any of the men who were lining up to chat with her or get their picture taken next to her got too familiar.
Their table filled up with a few other people who Taylor chatted with eagerly, and all of them discussed game culture and bosses and classes and all the things Loch knew nothing about. He watched Taylor instead, appreciating her animated expression and the way her cleavage looked in the shadows of the banquet hall. If he ate, he didn’t realize it. He just drank his beer and let her be a social butterfly, all the while thinking filthy thoughts about her in that costume.
If he managed to make it through the entire night without ripping it off of her and taking her, he’d qualify for sainthood.
“So what do you play?” the knight seated next to him asked, glancing occasionally over at Taylor as she talked with her hands and her breasts swayed enticingly as she told a story to a married couple. Guild-mates, she’d said.
“I don’t know,” Loch admitted. “Some Valkyrie-looking woman. Warrior?” He looked over at his date helplessly. Was he even supposed to say? Brunhilde belonged to her “roommate” and he suspected no one knew that he was that roomie.
“Warlord,” Taylor corrected him, casting a brilliant smile in his direction. “He’s a beginner at the game. He—” Her gaze unfocused and she got an uncomfortable look on her face as she stared at someone—or something—behind Loch. “Shit.”
Loch turned to look.
Cutting through the sea of tables was a man in a magnificent red cloak, a plumed helmet tucked under one arm. His hair was long and black, and he wore a suit of shining silver armor etched with red. He cut an impressive figure, his costume clearly expensive and extremely detailed. He was also coming straight for their table.
“God, this is awkward,” Taylor murmured, cringing. To Loch’s surprise, she scooted her chair closer to his and put her hand on his thigh. “Help me get rid of him fast?”
“All right,” Loch agreed, a bit mystified.
“Ho,” called the newcomer as he approached their table. He bowed in a courtly manner to each person at the table and then moved toward Taylor, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “My lady, it’s been far too long since I’ve seen you. I’ve missed you.”
Taylor gave a nervous laugh. “Nice to see you, too, Julian.” She gestured at Loch. “This is my . . . friend, Loch. We’re here together.”
Why couldn’t she spit out the word boyfriend? He noticed that everyone at the table was watching them, eyes wide.
“A pity,” Julian murmured over Taylor’s hand. “You know where to find me if you wish to rekindle our . . .”
“Friendship?” Loch offered. He put a possessive arm around Taylor’s waist. He knew exactly what this man was getting at, and he didn’t like it.
“Friendship,” Julian agreed. He gave the table a quick bow and then swept on, but not before sending another smoldering look in Taylor’s direction.
She grabbed her beer stein and took a long gulp. A few droplets spilled onto her cleavage.
That was enough for Loch. Between the jealousy stewing in his stomach and the near-nudity of his far-too-popular date, along with her inability to refer to him as her boyfriend? And the fact that they hadn’t had sex again since the one fling? He was done with dinner. Loch got to his feet and offered Taylor his hand. “If you’ll all excuse us, we have somewhere we need to be.”
“We do,” Taylor agreed, getting to her feet. She smoothed her cloak forward, hiding some of her costume, and then put her hand in his—a small gesture that did a lot to soothe Loch’s jealousy.
They quickly said their good-byes, and then Loch led her out of the massive medieval dining hall. His blood was surging, his cock was aching, and he felt an overwhelming need to claim Taylor as his. He’d never been like this with anyone else, but with Taylor, it was different. Everything was different.
He scanned the halls of the conference center of the hotel, looking for a private spot to duck into. There was nothing but Excelsior posters, milling people, and computer monitors flashing snips of the game. He tugged her along by her hand, hurrying to the elevator. He’d take her back to their room, ravish her silly, and get all this out of his system.
And then Loch paused. There was a line for the elevator stretching back at least fifty feet. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“It’s a busy convention,” Taylor chimed in. “Want to take the stairs?”