Chapter Twenty-Nine
I WAS STILL standin’ there, breath sittin’ too high in my chest, heart hittin’ slow and heavy against my ribs, when she looked up at me again. The music hadn’t changed—hell, nothin’ had—but somethin’ in her sure as hell had. A shift I felt before I could name it.
She stepped in close again, closer than any good sense allowed, the hem of her shirt brushin’ my knuckles like a quiet invitation. Not accidental. Not innocent. Intent lived in every soft sway of her hips, every breath she took inside my space.
“You going keep staring at me,” she murmured, barely hearable over the bass, “or you going say what’s running through your head?”
Damn woman. She said it like she already knew.
My gaze dragged down the warm line of her throat, slow as sin, before climbin’ back up. “What’s runnin’ through my head ain’t fit for polite company.”
“Good thing we’re not in polite company,” she said, that little spark playin’ at the corner of her mouth.
I huffed a laugh—quiet, low, pulled straight from somewhere I didn’t show many people. “You tryin’ to drive me crazy?”
She leaned in just enough for her breath to brush my jaw. “Trying? Chain… I haven’t even started.”
Heat shot straight down my spine, hot enough to steal my balance for half a second. I hadn’t been undone by a woman’s voice in longer than I cared to admit, but she had a way of talkin’ that cut clean through reason and went straight for want.
My hand found her waist—slow, respectful, givin’ her time to pull away if she wanted. She didn’t. She softened into my touch like she’d been waitin’ on it.
“You keep movin’ like that,” I murmured, “and I’m liable to forget where the hell we are.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m countin’ on.”
Her fingers brushed the front of my cut—light, barely there, but it hit like a damn brand. Every point of contact lit me up.
“You’re somethin’ else tonight,” I said, my voice goin’ rough without permission. “More bold than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Maybe I’m tired of being careful.”
I swallowed hard, feelin’ the truth of that settle heavy. “Careful’s kept you alive.”
She held my stare, steady as anything. “Careful’s kept me small.”
That one hit deeper than she probably knew.
I slid my thumb along the curve of her waist, slow, sure, claimin’ without takin’. “You’re not small, Lark. Not one damn part of you.”
Her lips parted on a breath—soft, surprised, like she wasn’t used to hearin’ it and didn’t know what to do with the way it landed.
I stepped in, my chest brushin’ hers, keepin’ my touch gentle even while every muscle in me vibrated with the urge to pull her hard against me.
“Chain…” she whispered.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “I feel it too.”
Her hand went under my cut, small fist, light hold, but it took the air right outta my lungs.
“What are we doing?” she asked, barely a breath.
“Somethin’ dangerous,” I said. “Somethin’ I should walk away from.”
“But you’re not.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
The music dipped low again, deep and warm, and she moved with it, slow as a heartbeat, her body brushin’ mine in the faintest rhythm. Wasn’t dancin’. Wasn’t even close. It was… answerin’. Her body answerin’ mine like it was the most natural thing in the damn world.
My forehead dipped toward hers—instinct, want, need all rolled into one.
“Chain,” she said again, softer.
“Tell me if I’m crossin’ a line.”
“You’re not.”
I exhaled long, shaky, muscles wound tight enough to snap. “Then you gotta stop lookin’ at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to ruin you right here.”
She smiled—slow, wicked, beautiful. “Maybe I do.”
Before I could drag her closer—before I could take that last inch that’d change everything—Spinner barreled into us, laughin’ too loud while Lucy hauled him through the crowd. The moment rocked, but didn’t break; it just hung there between us, breathless, suspended.
She steadied herself by catchin’ my shoulder, fingers curlin’ there like they belonged.
I caught her hand, my voice droppin’. “Come upstairs with me.”
Her breath caught. “Chain…”
“Don’t you want too?”
“Oh, I want too,” she said, smilin’ slow, wicked, soft. “That’s the problem.”
I froze, breath trapped somewhere between relief and hunger.
“But I want it the right way,” she said. “My way.”
Her fingers trailed down my cut, barely touchin', leavin’ heat in their wake. “So if you really want me…”
“Lark,” I said, my voice breakin’ low.
“…you’re going have to learn something new.”
“Yeah?” I managed. “What’s that?”
She stepped back one slow pace—just enough distance to take her warmth with her, but not the look in her eyes.
“How to take it slow.”
A breath punched outta me. “Slow,” I repeated, like it was a damn foreign word.
“Mm-hmm.” Her smile deepened. “Think you can handle that?”
“I can try.”
“Good,” she said, turnin’ away, hips swayin’ like a dare she knew I felt everywhere.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t find my breath. Just stood there in the middle of the floor, heat rollin’ under my skin while she walked toward the hallway, soft light catchin’ the curve of her shoulder, her hair, the wildness she finally let herself own.
She didn’t look back.
Didn’t need to.
Somewhere between wantin’ her and lettin’ her walk away, I lost the upper hand all over again.
And hell if I didn’t want to follow her anyway.
***
I DRAGGED A hand down my face, tryin’ to get my damn pulse under control before I walked back toward the table.
The room came back in pieces—bass rolling through the floorboards, smoke curling under the lights, brothers hollerin’ over card games and pool shots, but none of it hit right.
Not after her. Not after the way she’d looked at me and walked away like she owned every inch of my self-control.
Truth was, she kinda did.
Devil, Bolt, and Mystic were exactly where I expected—back table, good sightlines, a couple of bottles scattered between ’em. They watched the room the way seasoned men watch a storm. Quiet. Unmoving. Ready.
Devil clocked me the second I sat down. One brow lifted slow, the kind of look that said he already knew the whole damn story and didn’t need to hear a thing.
“You look like someone brained you with a two-by-four,” he said.
I grunted, reaching for a cold bottle. “I’m fine.”
Bolt snorted, boots kicked up on the empty chair beside him. “Yeah? And I’m the Easter Bunny’s accountant.”
Mystic didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Brother, you’re damn near steaming. Feels like the walls are pickin’ up your frequency.”
“Go to hell,” I muttered, though there wasn’t much bite to it.
The beer tasted bitter, cold, useless. Didn’t put out a damn thing inside me.
Devil leaned back, arms folding slow. “She good?”
I nodded once. “She’s good.”
“You ain’t,” Bolt said.
“Did I say I wasn’t.”
Mystic tapped a knuckle on the table. “Didn’t need to. You’re sittin’ like a man outta his body.”
I stared down at the bottle, thumb draggin’ over the label. “She told me to take it slow.”
Bolt damn near choked. “Oh, shit. You. Slow?”
Mystic shook his head like he’d just witnessed a historical event. “Miracles do happen.”
Devil smirked. “Sounds like she’s got your number..”
“She don’t,” I snapped too fast. Then softer: “Not exactly.”
“All right,” Bolt said, grinning wide. “Explain to me how a woman walkin’ away has got you sittin’ here like you forgot how to breathe.”
I didn’t answer. Mostly because he wasn’t wrong. None of them were and we all knew it. I was just still so damned turned on and nothing short of havin’ her would turn it off. Made me damn cranky.
Devil watched me a long moment, the noise of the room swelling around us—music, glass clinking, brothers laughing, someone yelling over a lost hand of poker. It all blurred at the edges.
“You’ll survive the wait,” Devil said quietly. “If she’s the right woman.”
“I damn well know it’,” I muttered.
Mystic huffed. “God, this is fun to watch.”
I flipped him off.
Devil chuckled once. Then his tone shifted—subtle, but enough to tighten the air. “Put your eyes on the room, Chain.”
I did. A slow sweep. Saw Brenda wiping down tables. Saw Bolt’s old lady tossin’ him a look from across the bar. Saw a few prospects drinking too fast, laughing too hard. Saw Lark.
She was standing near the hallway now, talkin’ to Lucy and Zeynep, head tilted slightly, fingers sweepin’ hair from her cheek.
Nothing about her was loud or wild anymore, but she still pulled my eyes like gravity.
She felt me lookin’, too. I could tell by the way her posture changed—softened, then steadied.
I forced myself to glance away.
“There’s something in the air tonight,” Devil said. “Feels off.”
“Yeah,” Mystic agreed. “Like eyes that ain’t ours.”
Bolt lowered his feet from the chair. “I’ll take another walk ‘round the perimeter in a minute.”
“You do that,” Devil said. “And keep your head on a swivel. Something is happening.”
That cold thread slid down my spine, coiling right beside the heat Lark left behind. “You think they’re here?”
“I think they’re watching,” Devil said. “And I think they’re patient.”
Mystic cracked his knuckles. “Never liked patient enemies.”
“No such thing,” Devil muttered. “Just the ones who learned how to wait.”
For a minute, none of us spoke. The music thumped. The lights flickered over smoke. Someone shouted over a bad pool shot. The whole room pulsed with life—loud, messy, familiar.
And still… I felt eyes.
Not Lark’s. Not brothers’.
Something else.
Quiet. Out of place.
I scanned again, slower this time. Nothing stood out. No stranger lingerin’ too long. No shadow movin’ wrong. Just my pulse still stirrin’ from her and the echo of Devil’s warning sittin’ heavy in my gut. The rat could be right in front of us this very minute.
“You sure you’re good to sit here and watch?” Devil asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m good.”
Didn’t matter that my chest still burned, or that my hands remembered the shape of her waist, or that she’d walked away leavin’ me undone in ways I hadn’t expected.
Devil rose from his chair, givin’ my shoulder a firm pat. “Then keep your eyes open. Both of ’em.”
Mystic grabbed his beer and headed for the back door. Bolt moved toward the front windows.
I stayed seated, scanning the room again, makin’ myself breathe even.
Somewhere between her heat and the cold shadow of threat, my world felt like it was shifting under my boots.
And hell… I wasn’t sure which part of it scared me more.