Chapter 32 #2
“What did I just say?” I growled.
Paloma’s face pinched in on itself. “Stan, you can’t do this to me out of nowhere. You know how I feel about you. I… I lo—”
I interjected with a sigh. “There have been other women, Paloma. Why are you getting so upset now?”
She glanced at where Arax stood with Drake. They were far away enough to not see what was taking place here. Drake bent down to whisper to her, and she hit him lightly before covering her mouth to hide her laughter.
“You look at this one differently, Stan,” Paloma said as she observed me, her voice fighting the sob in her throat. Her eyes went back to Arax, then closed. “Is she…”
I hesitated, remembering that this, along with a dozen other reasons, was why I kept my dick to myself when it came to the women of my pack. I didn’t want loose ends, especially since the one in front of me was proving to be too much. “Yes,” I hissed.
Her body slumped forward, and I heard a small gasp. A tear slowly fell. Then another. I felt bad for the girl, but I’d never promised her anything other than what we had.
“But I thought… Stan, you always said—”
“Things change,” I replied.
“Why couldn’t you change them for me?”
Where was this bartender with the damn drink?
“I didn’t lead you on, Paloma. Irrespective of… her, of anyone, I never led you to believe you and I would be more.”
“So that’s all I was and ever will be to you? A fuck buddy?”
“I thought we were both on board with being that for each other.”
Her face darkened in anger and hurt. Luckily, the bartender returned with the drink, apologizing for the delay.
“If you could—”
“You don’t need to use the Command on me again,” Paloma spat, taking a shot off the bar that had been meant for someone else. “I’ll keep your precious secret.”
“Appreciated.”
She turned her back toward me. “Keep ’em coming,” she snarled at the bartender and slid the empty shot glass across the bar hard; it flew off the side. The sound of it breaking was my cue to leave.
I rejoined the group in a foul state of mind. The conversation with Paloma had aggravated me, but I wasn’t mad at her. I was mad at myself for not heeding the warnings of Drake and Cyrus. They’d called it early on, but I’d chosen not to listen.
A fierce dance battle between mates was happening on the dance floor, and judging by how Cyrus and Jason were sweating, it was safe to say the girls were winning. Arax and Drake stood on the sidelines. He positioned himself behind her and linked me.
“Are you all right?”
“Paloma,” I replied. “You and Cyrus were right after all.”
“Ah, yeah,” he replied. “Saw that one coming from twenty miles away. She pissed?”
“Mostly sad, I think. She’s at the bar drowning her sorrows in tequila.”
“Oh well,” Drake said nonchalantly. “She knew what she was getting into. They always think it’ll go differently with them.”
“Hopefully it won’t be a problem.”
I could practically hear Drake grinning. “Rox can handle herself, Stan. Might be fun to watch too. We could break out the kiddie pool, grab a couple of beers, and throw some Jell-O on them both.”
That idea actually got me to laugh.
Arax had since gone to the dance floor. She and Vallon had Penelope sandwiched in the middle of them and were doing a bump-and-grind with her, while Cyrus was desperately trying to get his mate back—or join in. It was hard to say which.
She saw me looking and waved me over, but I shook my head and held up the bourbon. She said something to Penelope and gave up her place to Cyrus, coming to me instead.
“Is that for me?” she asked coyly
I nodded, passing it to her.
“Thanks!” She took a small sip. “You’re not trying to get me drunk, are you?” she asked, laughing.
“I prefer my women sober,” I replied without thinking.
She blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
Suddenly the lights went low, and the tempo slowed as a dark and erotic tune started playing.
Now or never. “Dance with me?”
I led her to an unlit corner of the floor and felt her trepidation. Slowly I lifted the hand that held her drink up to my mouth and had a taste, keeping my eyes on her. She followed my movements, her eyes finally resting on my lips as she lightly licked her own.
I didn’t wait for her to make up her mind.
I moved closer and swayed, following the rhythm of the music, and after a second, she did the same.
I put my hands on her hips, lightly grazing her sides.
Though I knew she was trying to play it cool, I felt the slight shiver that ran through her body at my touch.
I pulled her against me, keeping my movements going.
Arax threw back the rest of her drink in one gulp, and I grabbed the glass and set it on a table behind me.
With both of her hands free, she was at liberty to do what she wanted.
Hesitant at first, she finally rested one hand on my chest as the other found its way up my arm.
She kept her head down, refusing eye contact.
I wrapped my arms around her, bringing her all the way to me, and she lifted her head.
“Smooth,” she said with a little laugh, breaking the ice.
I couldn’t help but laugh with her.
Arax was a good dancer, lithe and languid but not overly promiscuous. She kept it just sexy enough to get my blood pumping downward, but not so much to where we were dry-humping where we stood.
The next song was even slower, and I could tell she was enjoying herself. She laid her head on my chest, and we swayed lightly together, the moody bass helping us get lost in our corner.
“I like your cologne, Konstantine,” she murmured against my shirt.
“Do you?”
I felt her nod. “I always have. What is it?”
She met my eyes when I didn’t respond right away.
“Nothing.”
“So it’s just… you?” She asked incredulously.
I replied by moving my hands to her leather-clad behind and giving it a gentle squeeze. Arax in leather had been an extra-special treat tonight.
“Well, your scent is very…”
“Very?”
“Palliative.”
Of all the words she could have picked. Palliative. It was neutral. Safe.
“So is yours, Arax,” I replied, following suit.
“But I’m not wearing anything.”
“I know.” I inhaled. “And I’ve missed it.”
She stopped her swaying and looked up. “You’ve… missed it?”
“Very much.”
Arax bit her lip. “I’ve missed yours too.” Her cheeks reddened at the confession, and she lowered her head back down. Her heart picked up its pace.
“Arax, you blush more than any other woman I’ve met,” I told her, then laughed when she colored further. I tipped closer to her ear. “Crimson at the smallest evocation of sentiment yet staunchly unaffected when doling out the most unflattering of nicknames—or calling me a twatnugget.”
Her head shot up, and I thought it would burst with the amount of blood funneling into it. Teasing her was quickly becoming a favorite pastime. She started to edge away, but I held fast.
“I have to know, Arax. Can you take as good as you give?” I asked, testing her limits.
A flick of her brow told me the double entendre was received. “You’d be shocked at how much I can take, Konstantine.”
That response I’d expected.
“Especially from you.”
The follow-up I had not.
The beat picked up a bit, and she gave me a flirtatious smile, but there was something else to it.
A challenge, maybe? As if to prove her point, she abruptly turned around and backed into me, resting her hands on my upper thighs.
Her hips moved against mine, and I grabbed them tightly, snaking one arm around her waist. My hand accidentally slipped beneath her shirt, and I trailed it up the soft flesh of her stomach, tracing along the line of her scar.
“How’s that bourbon working out for you, Arax?” I whispered seductively in her ear, bringing her against my chest.
She deliberately pressed her backside into me and turned her head.
“Looks like it’s working out well for the both of us,” she answered, her ass taunting my erection to come out and play.
I grinned and breathed, doing my damnedest to keep it in my pants. “Come on,” I said and grabbed her hand. It was my turn to keep it cool because inside I was on fire. Having her that close to me was driving me and my wolf insane. I needed air.
We fought our way outside, and I took a couple of deep inhales.
“I’m sorry,” Arax said, looking guilty.
“For what?”
“Back there. I think I’m a little buzzed. I’m normally not so forward.”
I noticed she was flushed and radiant. Her cheeks were aglow, and her eyes were bright. Goddess, she was beautiful.
I shook my head. “Don’t be sorry,” I said gently. “It was fun.”
Our moment was cut short by an announcement over the speakers for the guests to come outside.
It was much later than I’d expected, and Penelope’s birthday was drawing to a close.
I had a surprise for her, the first of which exploded over the gardens.
The glowing meteor shower of fire and sound grabbed everyone’s attention, and they came running to watch the show.
They were my birthday present, together with footing the bill for the party, which I had a feeling had grossly inflated.
I linked my sister. “Are you outside?”
“I am,” she replied with resounding happiness in her voice. “Thank you, brother.”
“You’re welcome, Pen. Happy birthday, little sister.”
“We saw you sneaking off with your girl and wanted to give you some time alone.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“Not yet.”
Arax had hooked her hands behind her head.
I came to stand beside her. She was watching the show with a look of pure wonderment, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
The fireworks sparkled in the grey of her irises, and the effect was dazzling.
Starlight itself should be jealous of what shone in those eyes.
I edged closer, looping an arm around her waist, and she leaned her body against me. The atmosphere, heavy with her perfume and charged with our electricity, enveloped us both in a blanket of enchantment, conjured from the threads of the fated bond.
“This has your signature all over it,” she whispered, her chin raised toward the fireworks.
“You think so?”
“Am I wrong?” she asked, knowing she was right.
I smiled against her hair and held her tighter. She continued speaking, barely tilting her head, so it was only her lips I saw moving.
“By the way, just so you know, I’m not exactly Danny’s type.”
“How can that be?” I asked.
“To start, I’m not Black or Asian,” she said with a laugh. “And more importantly, my severe lack of a penis was kind of a dealbreaker for him.”
“I’m learning so much about you tonight, Arax,” I smirked.
“Yes you are, Konstantine. It’s true. I don’t, in fact, have a dick.”
“I see, so you just are one sometimes.”
She whirled around in my arms. Her jaw had dropped, but her lips twitched, and it didn’t take much time for the bewilderment to give way to her well-developed sense of humor.
“That’s fair,” she replied, taking my barb like a champ. “You owed me one for twatnugget.”
This type of banter seemed to do the trick, and with her guard down, Arax made her move, putting her arms around my neck.
Her fingers played with my hair, her nails gently scraping over my skin.
I pulled her closer, wanting those lips…
ready to make that daydream a reality, but she spoke again before I could.
“I never thought I’d see you smile as much as you have tonight, Konstantine.” Her voice had dropped an octave. Low, luscious, liquid warmth.
“I finally have a reason, Arax,” I replied and stopped her from saying anything else by bringing my forehead to hers. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”
“Is that what you were going to say to me on the deck?” she asked curiously.
“Maybe,” I replied, and my hand went to the small of her back and under her shirt. My fingers splayed along her skin, which was riddled with goose bumps. The gesture demanded an answer.
“I’d love to,” she said quietly.
“Seven?”
“Sure.”
It was the perfect setting, and we stayed wrapped in one another, watching the last of the fireworks light up the sky above.
It was over too soon. The lights flickered back on, and we both saw Drake and Jason coming toward us, holding up a stumbling and incoherent Cyrus.
Penelope and Vallon were close behind. Cyrus was wasted.
It took a massive amount of alcohol to get a werewolf drunk, due to our fast metabolism, so goddess only knew how much he’d drunk to be in that state.
His eyes lit up when he saw us. “Stan! Artax!” He threw one arm around each of us, then put his full weight on Arax, who immediately staggered and fell, with Cyrus landing on top of her. I quickly pulled him off, tossed him aside, and helped her up.
“Cyrus!” I yelled at him in his head. “Get it together!”
“I love you sooooo much, godfather,” he declared and pounded his chest, spread-eagle on the ground, his speech slurred.
“Have you kissed Ajax yet? You two should be tergerther. Just tell her how much you want in her pants. Shit, man, what a great party!” He laughed maniacally to himself, then rolled over and instantly threw up on the lawn.
“You guys got this, right?” Penelope said, pointing at her heaving mess of a mate. Without waiting for a response, she and Vallon took an obviously mortified Arax back to the castle, leaving the rest of us to figure out what to do with the passed-out Cyrus.