Chapter Six
QUINN
W ords burned at the back of my throat, but before I could draw them out, Max Dread disappeared into the crowd.
I lost sight of him as he weaved through the sea of booze-and-sex-soaked bodies, ignoring the girls and hands grasping for his attention. It took me a minute to get a grip on myself and what had just happened.
He’d been right and wrong.
I wouldn’t regret meeting him, only because he had reminded me why I needed to keep my head on straight. But I wouldn’t regret anything else, either. Definitely not losing his interest, which seemed as volatile as an active volcano.
I refused to give anyone in this place that power over me.
I refused to care.
When my heart settled, I breathed out a shaky laugh. “What the hell was that?”
My question being rhetorical and voiced to no one, I didn’t expect a response.
But a low and silky voice murmured at my back.
“You met Sir Mordred.”
The man who stepped up beside me wasn’t the hulking, looming presence I’d met in Max Dread, yet somehow, he was no less imposing.
Soft brown curls loosely styled on top of his head, a sharp jaw and cheekbones, and a tall frame built of lean muscle—he commanded the room and my attention the minute he appeared.
Because his eyes, soft gray and glinting in the dim light, pierced right through me.
He nodded in the direction Max had gone. “You’ll want to be careful with that one.”
Facing the room, he rested his hands behind his back. He glanced down at me beside him, taking in my outfit and lingering on the string of pearls at my neck.
“You figured out my little secret.”
His lips curved into a smile, but it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. Like an illusion, I blinked and wondered if I’d really seen it at all.
“But do you have all the items, love?”
The hint of an accent in the lilt of his voice hypnotized me, and I lifted my heel, revealing the red polish I’d painted on the soles.
His eyes brightened, giving away how my artistic flair pleased him. “Clever girl…”
He trailed his gaze up my leg.
If someone asked me about it later, I wouldn’t have been able to answer why—at his simple response—I slid my hand to the hem of my black dress.
The mischievous gleam in his eyes? The way his fingers twitched like he wanted to do it himself? Heavy doses of aphrodisiac being filtered through the air system?
Or maybe after my hot-and-cold run-in with Max Dread, I liked the steady current of electricity this stranger stirred up inside me.
Either way, I teased the black chiffon up my thigh to expose the garter hiding beneath it.
Soft gray turned to steel, his pupils dilating at the sight of my bare skin. His hand reached toward me, hovering an inch from the black silk as he lifted his eyes to mine.
I read the question there and answered it with a nod.
At my go ahead, his fingers edged along the band, stroking my outer thigh before sliding under the elastic. Following its path, I gasped when he grazed the back of my thigh and came dangerously close to slipping between my legs.
But before he could fully wrap his way around, he flexed his fingers and pulled his hand away.
The band snapped lightly, a sharp inhale hissing from my lips at the unexpected sting.
Eyes still locked on each other, tension pulsed between us. Electricity crackled in the air, desire sizzling like a live wire. And this sudden, pent up need thrummed through my body—so strong, it shocked me.
We’d only just met, and it felt like I’d been waiting for him to touch me forever.
“Do I know you?”
“Not yet.” His hooded gaze dropped to my lips. “But I was right about you.”
I arched my brow.
Before I voiced the question in my mind, he flashed another quick smile. “You’ll see.”
And then, he walked away, too.
“Damn. What the hell are they putting in the water here?” I muttered under my breath.
At this point, I worried raising my voice would spawn another ridiculously hot guy from the shadows. And while that didn’t sound like the worst thing, so far both my strangers had left me cold and dry.
Well…not exactly dry. Definitely not.
But seriously. A girl deserved to be ridden hard if she was going to be put away wet. For fuck’s sake.
Fortunately for my panties, no one else came out of the woodwork.
I stepped into the room, finally joining the party and going straight to the bar to order a glass of wine.
Then, I remembered where I was.
Switching the wine to an unopened can of hard seltzer, I watched the bartender pop the top and place it in front of me.
“Thanks.” I took a sip to settle my nerves. “What do I owe you?”
His brow furrowed, and his lips twitched like I’d said something funny. “It’s an open bar, sweetheart.”
“Sweet.” I shrugged and turned around, taking another sip and nearly spitting it out.
Sitting straight across the room—on a fucking throne, no less—the stranger with the spellbinding eyes surveyed the scene before him. And it didn’t matter that I hadn’t thought to ask his name because I already knew it.
Kingston D’Arthur, the King of Camelot Court, was right in front of me.
But the part that shocked me?
He wasn’t the guy who covered the cost of my prescription. The one I’d credited with saving my ass and probably my life.
If I wanted to be dramatic about it.
No, that guy stood to the King’s left.
His right-hand man—Landon Scott—the asshole from Gia’s class, and my amber-eyed, breathtakingly beautiful savior from the pharmacy were all one and the same.
And he was staring right at me.
“Holy shit.”
I came here planning to lose my virginity, but it turned out I might be totally fucked.