Taking his time, he stood back up. She’d tossed him about ten feet. Jamie made a show of brushing dirt off his jeans and shirt. Mostly to give himself time to think, then he replied, “You’re afraid to rip off my head. Part of you already knows that I’ve told you the truth.” He headed toward her, not trying to keep his footsteps quiet any longer as his feet crunched over the gravel. “And if you kill me, you know that you’ll be killing yourself.”
It sounded like she hissed at him. He almost smiled but then—then he blinked and Iona was in front of him. She’d closed the distance herself, effortlessly. A distance of ten feet, in less than a second’s time. “Let’s get one thing straight.” She pushed up on her toes. Stabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m not afraid of anything. Or anyone.”
Right. She probably wasn’t.
And, damn, she was sexy. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips had been the softest that he’d ever felt. He could still taste her on his tongue. The sweetness had been a surprise. From her, he’d expected spice.
“Why…why are you looking at me like that?” Iona asked as her gaze searched his.
He could tell her the truth. “Because I want to kiss you.”
Her poking finger jerked back as if she’d been burned. “You mean that you want to take more of my blood. So you can get stronger and so you can—”
He caught her shoulders and pulled her close. Her body brushed against his. Soft. He loved the way she felt. “I mean I want your lips beneath mine. I want to taste you. I want to savor you.”
She swallowed. “Your brogue is…thicker.”
“Yeah, it gets that way when I’m turned on.”
Her lips parted.
“I want your mouth,” he said again, no longer willing to fight the desire he felt for her. Why bother? They were locked together, even if she didn’t realize it.
He was more than ready to start enjoying the perks of the deal.
For an instant, Jamie was sure he saw the flicker of an answering desire in her golden gaze. But then her chin rose as she said, “And I want blood.”
The implied not yours was clear as she pulled away from him. As he watched her, Iona turned on her heel and headed toward the faint sound of music that drifted in the air.
Yes, she was heading toward big, bad bar number two in the town of Shade. So predictable.
In fact, her move was so incredibly predictable that he’d already told Sean they’d be coming that way. When Jamie had gone hunting for Iona earlier that night, he and Sean had separated. One bar for each man.
Jamie had gotten lucky. He’d found Iona at the Shore Tavern.
But when he’d talked to Sean on the phone, he’d told the other wolf that he’d be coming to meet him. I knew she’d want to try tasting someone else.
He knew, but he didn’t like it. In fact, it made him feel…jealous?
Impossible.
It should have been impossible. Yet Jamie found himself hurrying to keep pace with her. And, moments later, when Iona pushed open the door to the bar, when the bouncer gave her a welcoming smile, and all eyes seemed to greedily stroke her body, Jamie’s beast gave a growl.
Back the hell off.
The music was pumping. Loud and—
“The music has changed.” Iona tilted her head as she listened to the pounding beat. “I think…I like it better now.”
He kept forgetting she’d missed so much in the last fifteen years.
Her hips began to sway. The men began to close in.
Hell. He put his arm around her shoulders.
Those men backed up. Damn straight. If they’d come closer, he might have even flashed fang.
“It will be harder to find good prey with you at my side.” Her voice was low and husky and her hips were still rocking.
“Too bad. I don’t plan on backing off.” She didn’t seem to realize the gigantic threat that hung over her. Latham could attack, at any time. Yes, she was strong. But so was Latham. And if he caught her off-guard… “I don’t want Latham putting you under again.”
Her hips stopped rocking. She glanced at him. Anger had melted the gold in her eyes so that her gaze just burned. “He won’t.” Then, with a toss of her head, so queen-like that Jamie had to smile—he’d started to rather like that touch of haughtiness—she sauntered across the bar.
It took him about ten seconds too long to realize that she’d already picked her out prey.
By then, Iona had her hand on the chest of her would-be victim. A familiar victim. The bar was behind Sean, trapping the guy as he stood right in front of Iona.
She chose my first-in-command? Fuck. Jamie stalked toward them. He’d just closed in when he heard—
“I think this could be fun,” Iona murmured as she leaned toward Sean.
Sean’s shocked gaze darted to Jamie.
“You aren’t doing this,” Jamie snapped. He grabbed her arm. For some reason, he didn’t want her touching the other werewolf. He glared down at Iona. “I already told you, it isn’t going to work. You can’t take anyone else’s blood.”
“And I told you…I don’t believe you.”
She was making him want to howl. And making him want to toss her over his shoulder and carry her away from Sean. Away from all the other men there.
Her head turned as she studied Sean. “Maybe one werewolf will be as good as another, and at least with him, I’ll be sure he isn’t on drugs.” Her gaze slid back to Jamie. “I’m betting you run a tight ship when it comes to that.”
He did. Drugs would make his wolves weak. He didn’t allow for weakness. Weakness would just get them killed.
“This way, I don’t have to kill any humans…yet.” She offered first Jamie, then Sean a smile that flashed her sharp little teeth. Then her focus centered on Sean as she said, “So point me toward a private room, and let’s just see how you taste, wolf.”
Women liked Sean, they sure fell into his bed easily enough. Maybe it was because Sean appeared easy-going, and often…normal. A big bonus for a guy who was actually paranormal. Sean was a perfect chameleon. He could fit in with just about anyone, anywhere. Unlike Jamie, he’d dropped his Irish years ago, and, in fact, he could fake other accents—depending on where he was and who he wanted to fool—almost instantly.
Jamie fisted his hands and fought to hold on to his control.
Iona appeared determined. And a little too satisfied with her drinking scheme.