Filthy Rich Fae

Chapter Twenty

Lachlan stood behind me, arms crossed and murder on his face.

He wasn’t livid. No, he had blown somewhere past that to a terrifying place between DEFCON 1 and apocalyptic. Of all the times for him to walk up, he chose the moment another man had his hands on me, and not even in a sexual way when almost everyone around us was getting busy? The whole thing was hilarious, honestly. A giggle spilled from me, followed by more.

“Cate and I were keeping each other company,” Oberon said smoothly, showing absolutely no signs of intimidation as Lachlan glared at him. I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed or concerned about his self-preservation instincts.

“And where is Shaw?”

“I gave him the night off for good behavior,” I said. The smile on my face felt a little sloppy, but I leaned into it—or rather, I leaned into Lachlan.

Instead of lecturing me, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. “Thanks for looking after her for me,” he said in a clipped tone that contained no trace of genuine gratitude.

Oberon must have noticed the same, but he merely nodded. He turned to me. “Great talking to you. I look forward to next year’s meeting. Perhaps we will grow our numbers by then.”

Lach looked torn between asking questions and ripping his head off. Thankfully, he did neither.

“I’ll make us shirts,” I said happily.

My captor muttered something along the lines of “gods-damned nonsense,” offered Oberon a curt farewell, and dragged me out of the ballroom. At least, he tried. We made it halfway before I planted my feet firmly, refusing to go.

He simmered. “It’s time to leave.”

I grabbed hold of his shirt. “What happened to you will be safe if you want to let loose?”

“If you get any looser, they’ll be mopping you off the floor,” he said dryly.

But I wasn’t listening.

“We should dance.” We had been too far away to hear the music in the alcove. Now it called to me, beckoned me, spoke directly to the blood beating in my veins. I needed to dance.

Lachlan stared at me as if I had grown a second head. He moved closer, searching my eyes, and frowned. “How much ambrosia have you had?”

I held up my hand, staring at my fingers as I tried to remember how to count.

“I’m going to kill Shaw,” he growled.

“You shouldn’t have asked him to babysit me.”

“What else is he good for?”

He was seriously killing my vibe. “He’s your brother.” I poked his chest. “Be nicer to him.”

“I’ll be nicer when he stops fucking up.”

Oh man, did I understand that feeling. “Maybe if you’re nicer, he’ll stop fucking up.”

“Is that your strategy with Channing?”

I frowned. He had a point. Not that I was about to admit it. Besides, it wasn’t like his strategy was working, either. But Lachlan seemed to realize his words had inflicted damage. He reached for my hand, but I snatched it back. The sharpness of my movement made my head spin, but I managed to stay upright.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Normally, I might have rewarded him for his first-ever apology. Likely the only in his lifetime. Instead, I decided to use his newfound guilt to my advantage. Ciara and I had gone dancing on Bourbon Street, but I hadn’t felt as free then, as safe as I did with him next to me.

“Make it up to me. Let’s dance.”

He bristled as his gaze swept the room, and I knew what he was seeing. There were a few couples dancing sporadically—if it could be called that. “Humping” was a more accurate description. Regardless, not everyone in the room was actively engaged in sex, and there was music. Since there was absolutely no way I was getting any tonight—by my choice—I needed to get some of my bottled-up energy out.

“Cate.” His voice was laced with warning.

I ignored it. “I’ve spent the night watching other people doing it, and I need to work through that physically.”

His lips twitched—the first sign that he wasn’t going to continue acting like a deranged grizzly bear. “Is that so?”

“It’s so,” I said firmly. I grabbed his lapels and yanked him to me. “Now shut up and dance with me.”

“Why were you hiding in a corner if you wanted to dance?” The question tiptoed along what I thought he really wanted to know: Had I been hiding or waiting?

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a real answer. Instead, I shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone I wanted to dance with.”

A smirk hooked his lips. “And you want to dance with me?”

Shit. I’d walked into that one. But I wasn’t about to be defeated by Lachlan or his little temper tantrum. I pressed my body closer to his, rolling my hips to the beat of the music. “I sensed my opportunities were drying up, since you seem intent on not having any fun at all.”

“I had business to attend to,” he said stiffly.

“The boring meetings and cigar smoke, right?”

“You didn’t answer me.” He pressed closer, and I hummed at how good it felt to have his hard body on mine, how easy it was to melt against it and let him anchor me. “Did you want to dance with me?”

It really wasn’t fair, because it was probably his sexy magic at work or the effects of their mysterious booze, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. I knew no matter what I said, he would see the truth in them. Lying would only be seen as weakness, and he already thought I was weak. He thought I needed protection. But tonight, I wanted to be a person I’d given up on a long time ago. And I was through with his insinuations. “I’m dancing with you now. Figure it out.”

“So imperious.” His lips tickled my ear again. Unlike before, they drifted over it a little, and I bit down on a moan. I knew he could feel the way my body responded to his. As if to prove me right, his fingers gripped my hips, sinking in so roughly that his nails scraped my skin through the tulle skirt. He dragged the tip of his nose along my jaw and whispered, “This isn’t a dress. It’s a sin.”

I frowned. “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“If you wanted everyone in the room to spend the evening eye-fucking you, then no.”

Every clever retort dried up on my tongue.

“But you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath teasing my ear. I leaned into his dirty words, wanting more of them, wanting more contact. “Knowing that they would line up just to taste you.” This time, his tongue retraced the line of my jaw, and I found my face angling, waiting, anticipating for that mouth to find mine. When it didn’t, my eyes snapped open, and I scowled at him.

“You may continue.”

Amusement flickered in those glittering eyes. “Continue what?”

“The dirty talk.” Apparently, he needed me to spell it out for him. Why were men always so hopeless? “Proceed.”

His low chuckle was pure masculine swagger. I bit my lip, feeling his chuckle bolt straight to my core.

He shook his head. “I think you’ve had enough to drink and enough dirty talk.”

Before I could argue, the world swept out from underneath me. The effect was so dizzying, it took me a moment to process that I had been thrown over his shoulder. I pounded on his back as he carried me swiftly from the ballroom. More than a few people pivoted to watch us go.

“Put me down,” I demanded.

“I would, but I think in your current state, marble floors are far too risky a proposition.”

He might have a point. I wasn’t going to tell him that, but I gave up trying to escape. Both because it was a free ride back to my room and because he smelled so damn good. His usual cedar scent was laced with tobacco and bourbon, and I breathed in the primal masculinity of him, barely resisting the urge to kiss his back just to see how it would feel.

“You okay up there, princess?”

Why did he have to go and ruin things by opening his mouth? Why couldn’t he just be pretty and smell delicious?

“I am more than a piece of meat.”

It appeared I had said that out loud.

“You did indeed.”

And that. Apparently, I was narrating. Worse than that, I couldn’t seem to stop. Which was humiliating, given that I currently had my face buried in his back, trying to decide if he smelled like actual sin or some forgivable derivative.

“I’m going to kill Shaw,” Lachlan muttered again.

Considering I was spilling every filthy, carnal thought I had about him—which was clearly the ambrosia talking and not me—I was beginning to consider helping him.

He didn’t put me down until we reached his wing, where Lachlan deposited me directly onto the floor. Probably because I started beating his back again and demanding it as soon as we were through the door. My ass hit the wood with a loud thump that temporarily knocked the wind out of me, and I glared up at him.

“You wanted to be put down.” The gleam in his eyes belied the innocence he feigned.

“Since when have you done anything I wanted?” I swayed to my feet and stumbled to the bar cart, grabbing a bottle of tequila. I twisted the cap off before he stole it from me.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“Because you just spent the last five minutes ranting at me that you hated me while waxing poetic about the way I smell. I think you’ve had enough to drink for tonight and, for that matter, enough of my sexy magic, too. Which is what again?”

Thankfully, there was no level of inebriation that could get me to confess what I meant by that. Mostly because despite my current condition—or perhaps because of it—sexy magic was quickly being debunked.

I shook a finger in his face instead. “This is your fault. You left me down there. What was I supposed to do?”

“Hang out with my kid brother and stay out of trouble,” he growled. “And you didn’t manage either.”

The thrill of victory shot through me. I had him. “Last week, you were the one telling me I should get into trouble.”

“No, I said you needed some trouble.”

I waved a hand in the air. “Tomato. Potato.”

“I don’t think that’s how that goes.”

God, he was beautiful when he smiled. Was it possible to have an oral fixation with someone else’s mouth? Because those lips…

I really hoped I had managed to keep those thoughts inside my head. “What I’m saying is that I did not actually get into trouble. I had too much to drink. There’s a difference. And secondly, you are a hypocrite.”

His brow shot up. “I’m a hypocrite?”

I blinked at him, knowing I was walking into a trap but powerless to stop myself from ambling on like a deer into a clearing. I was leaving myself wide open for attack. “You say I need some trouble, tell me to let loose if I want, but you lecture me when I do. You act all hurt that I don’t like you when you clearly hate me.”

His mouth tightened. “And what about you, princess? You came to me, begging me to help you, and when I did, you accused me of tricking you, kidnapping you, and lying to you. None of which I did.”

“Debatable.”

Except it wasn’t debatable, and somewhere deep down I knew it. Maybe it was the fairy wine muddling my brain, forcing me to see what I refused to acknowledge the rest of the time. Lachlan had helped me. He had offered me a bargain when, according to everyone who knew him, that was something he never did. He had fixed my air conditioning, which was a relief because it was the hottest autumn on record. He had shown up when my car was on fire, even if he hadn’t helped me put it out. He’d even covered for my ass at work, although he was technically the reason I’d been suspended in the first place. And I didn’t know why he had done any of it.

“Why did you offer me that bargain?”

He stilled, his face a stony mask. “You have to work that out yourself.”

I scoffed. “Funny. I didn’t peg you as a coward.”

The dark aura around him shimmered, his tattoos moving in such a blur that I couldn’t make out a single one. “Coward?” He stepped closer. “Well, then. Since you asked me so nicely,” he seethed, “I will give you one more clue.”

His hand shot out to grip my chin. It wasn’t rough. It didn’t hurt. No, his touch was featherlight. Despite everything I knew about Lachlan, this revealed something more to me. He knew his strength. He controlled it, just like he controlled everything else about himself—except for those telling tattoos. He knew he didn’t need to use force to get my attention. Not when he looked at me the way he was looking at me now.

“I am not a man who shows his entire hand, nor am I one who acts without purpose,” he said. “So trust me, princess, when I tell you that I have my reasons and that I know exactly what you have to offer me.”

His gaze dropped, sliding along my lips, and suddenly, I didn’t care if every soul downstairs had been eye-fucking me like he claimed. Not when he was looking at me like I might very well be the center of his fucking universe. Not when I wanted to be.

I didn’t dare move. I didn’t dare try to pull free of his grasp. Not when I could feel the bargain stretched taut between us. Not when he had given me the answer to every question I’d asked myself about him. “Please…”

His eyes flared, and for a breath, his grip on my jaw tightened. Did he see how much I wanted him to kiss me? Would he do it?

He drew in a deep breath, and his hand fell, releasing me. “Go to bed, Cate.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he simply repeated himself without raising his voice. “Go to bed. Please.”

I told myself that it was the sudden show of manners that had me fleeing down the hall, but I knew I was running from something else.

I was running from what I’d seen etched in those green eyes.