3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
“ I t’s about fucking time.”
Reeking of alcohol and poor decisions, a guest dressed in a powder-blue tux and an oversized, rhinestone-studded mask blocked Arlo’s path.
He had no trouble recognizing the shifter. Well, more accurately, he remembered the ugly suit. The guy had been harassing other guests and growing increasingly belligerent throughout the night.
Not a good look, and some of his cringier moments had left Arlo struggling with second-hand embarrassment. On the flip side, overhearing a female vampire threaten to drain him had been highly amusing.
Yes, he had been actively trying to distract himself from thoughts of Itri, but this wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. Still, he had a job to do, and it wouldn’t be the first time he had been insulted by a guest for merely existing.
“I apologize, sir.” He didn’t bother pointing out the two servers who passed by them within seconds of each other, both carrying the same trays laden with the same champagne. “Would you like a drink?”
“I’d like for you to do your damn job.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Arlo reached for one of the flutes, but a low, angry growl stopped him cold.
“What the fuck did you say to me?”
He had spoken the words quietly and to himself, barely more than a breath. Sadly, he had neglected to take the shifter’s supernatural hearing into account. Rookie mistake.
Arlo hitched his smile a shade brighter and redirected. “Can I get you something from the bar? Whiskey, maybe?”
Not that the asshole needed another drink, but he had to diffuse the situation, and more alcohol had been the first thing to come to mind.
“What’s your name?”
Ah, so they were jumping straight into threats now. No one ever asked his name so they could give him a glowing Yelp review. If it had come to this, the shifter had already worked himself up into a right fit. Next, he would be demanding to speak to a manager.
“Arlo Eichen,” he answered, enunciating each syllable.
The shifter sneered. “Well, Arlo Eichen , does your boss know that you’re dancing and laughing instead of taking care of the people who paid to be here?”
Now he had a problem with laughter? What a miserable way to exist.
“I understand your concerns.” He couldn’t argue that he had shirked his duties to enjoy a dance with Itri. “If you would like to file a complaint, I can—”
“Gods, this place is going to hell. I don’t know why I even come to this dump anymore.”
Arlo gritted his teeth until his jaw creaked. It was one thing to insult him, but attacking the Manor and his coworkers was something else entirely.
“Why can’t that stupid bitch ever hire decent staff? It’s really not that hard.”
Well, that did it. Arlo couldn’t hold back anymore, and all his well-meaning intentions went right out the proverbial window.
“Neither is shutting the fuck up. Yet, here we are.”
He regretted the words the second they left his mouth, and not just because he considered himself above such pettiness.
The shifter’s upper lip curled, a deep, angry snarl rumbled in his chest, and his eyes flashed with unveiled rage. Arlo flinched away when a hand flew toward his face, but the impact never came. Instead, the guy hit the edge of the tray, upending it and launching its contents into the air.
A cascade of glittering champagne sprayed in every direction, drenching his hair, his face, and his pristine tuxedo. The delicate goblets crashed to the floor, the distinct sound of shattering glass sharp and piercing as it echoed throughout the room.
Arlo flailed, trying to regain his balance, but the slick tiles betrayed him, sending him crashing to the ground. A painful jolt shot through his knees when they connected with the marbled floor, and tiny, jagged shards pricked at his palms.
Kneeling in a puddle of champagne and broken crystal, he didn’t immediately get to his feet. Instead, he dropped his head and took deep breaths, praying for divine intervention before he murdered the self-important prick.
“Typical,” the shifter spat as he loomed over him. “I’m soaked in champagne, and you’re playing the victim.”
Arlo slowly climbed to his feet so he could face the accusations. The guy had only a small wet patch on his right sleeve. A minor inconvenience of his own making.
At this point, he had been both verbally and physically assaulted. As such, he was well within his rights to alert security and have the bastard removed. Not just from the party, but from the premises.
“You need to leave.”
“Excuse me?” There was a hard edge to the male’s voice now, a coldness that promised retaliation. “What did you just say?”
Arlo didn’t retreat. Spine rigid, shoulders back, he stood toe-to-toe with the guy.
“I said that you’re a self-entitled douchebag with an over-inflated ego and questionable fashion sense.” Yes, he should have let security handle it, but damn it, he could only take so much abuse. “Was I clear enough that time? Or do you need me to sound it out for you?”
“You’ll pay for that,” the guy bit out menacingly. “Apologize.”
Arlo took a deep breath and released it. “I apologize.” He fisted his shaking hands at his sides and narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry that you radiate such small-dick energy. That must be hard.” He glanced at the male’s waistband and shook his head. “But really, would we even know?”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re not very good at this, are you?” Arlo tilted his head and adopted an expression of mock pity. “Maybe come back after you’ve read a book.”
The Otherling’s hand shot out, his clawed fingers wrapping around Arlo’s neck, and his dark eyes flashed behind his mask with gleeful wrath. He was angry, but he was also enjoying this.
“You worthless little—”
A crack of thunder exploded through the ballroom, the sound rumbling off the high ceiling and echoing throughout the cavernous space. People screamed and ducked, though no one knew where the sound had come from.
Unfortunately, Mr. Small Dick Energy seemed to take it as a personal attack. Instead of releasing Arlo and running for cover, he twisted him around, his hand still gripping his throat, and held him tight against his chest like a shield.
Arlo bit his bottom lip and held himself motionless. He could feel the tips of sharp claws against his skin, could practically hear the shifter’s heartbeat pounding inside his chest. He didn’t know what had caused the sudden storm, but an uneasy feeling told him he was somehow at the center of it.
A frigid wind whipped through the room, and dark, menacing clouds gathered overhead. Lightning streaked across the ceiling, followed by another boom of thunder that shook the floor and rattled the windows.
Then—because fuck you, Arlo, that’s why —the sky unleashed in a torrential downpour.
Music still pulsed in the background, but he could barely hear it over the raging storm and the subsequent panic that ensued. Screams, screeches, and growls erupted from every direction as people ran for the exits.
Arlo winced in sympathy as he watched a woman in a red satin dress wipe out hard when her stilettos slipped out from under her. If that hadn’t been bad enough, a distracted male tripped over her legs and went sliding across the floor.
“What’s happening?” His captor shuffled his feet, dragging Arlo with him as he twisted one way, then the other, scanning the room. “What’s going on?”
Arlo didn’t respond, but his eyes widened when six-and-a-half feet of massive, visibly pissed-off male approached. Though a sodden, disheveled mess, Itri radiated power.
His silver hair, now a shade darker, lay flat against his forehead. His tuxedo jacket flared open, and the white shirt beneath it plastered to every hard brick of muscle across his chest and abs. Veins of pure white light flickered ominously beneath his skin, and a ring of pale blue glowed around the outer edge of his irises.
“Who the fuck are you?” the guy in the mask screamed, his hand tightening around Arlo’s throat.
Arlo grimaced when a sharp claw pierced his skin. It didn’t hurt much, just a sting, but the action didn’t go unnoticed by Itri.
Those eerie, glowing eyes narrowed as his gaze locked on Arlo’s neck. His nostrils flared, his upper lip curled over elongated canines, and a low, threatening growl poured from his mouth.
“Release him.” He didn’t speak loudly, but his deep, commanding voice resonated with authority. “Now.”
Arlo didn’t fully understand how they had gotten to this point, but it felt like a classic case of cause and effect. The shifter had fucked around, and now he was about to find out.
His captor obeyed instantly, proving what Arlo had already known. Like a lot of bullies, deep down, he was nothing more than a coward. Although, his method of compliance left a lot to be desired. He didn’t so much release Arlo, but shoved him forward like a sacrifice.
Tripping through the debris that littered the floor, Arlo stumbled right into a pair of thick, muscular arms. Without a word, Itri gripped his chin, gently forcing his head to the side. A heartbeat passed. Two. Then his head snapped up, his pitiless gaze locked on the masked shifter as another low growl vibrated in his chest.
“You’re going to regret that.”
It wasn’t just a threat. Arlo could hear the brutal promise in his voice, could feel it reverberate right down to his soul.
He frowned. While he appreciated the assistance, the rescue really hadn’t been necessary. Given the circumstances and all, he could understand how the guy might have been confused, but he’d had everything under control.
Sort of.
Mostly.
The growling was pretty hot, though.
Granted, he might have felt differently if it had been directed at him, and he couldn’t understand why Mr. Dazed and Stupid continued to stand there.
“Umm, you should probably run now,” he suggested. His good deed for the day, so to speak.
The dumbass backpedaled a couple of steps, his strides slow and stilted. Then whatever paralysis had gripped him must have broken because he made a sharp turn and bolted for the stairs.
Arlo’s self-appointed protector watched him go, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Wait here.”
“Okay,” he agreed easily. He’d disobeyed the first time and look where that had gotten him. “Thanks, by the way.” He waved his hand in a vague, encompassing motion. “For, well, you know.”
Itri’s features softened marginally, and he took Arlo’s hand, bringing it to his lips to brush a kiss over the knuckles. “You are most welcome, dove.”
Arlo trembled as warmth flooded him.
“Wait here,” he repeated, giving Arlo’s hand a light squeeze as he straightened. “I won’t be but a moment.”
Then he was gone, sprinting across the room with supernatural speed like liquid lightning, his movements sharp and purposeful, natural and fluid. He took the steps two at a time, catching the runaway shifter halfway up the staircase. Grabbing him by the back of his collar, he flicked his wrist, effortlessly flinging the guy back toward the bottom.
Arlo flinched and hissed in a breath through his teeth when the shifter landed on the ballroom floor with a dull thud. Damn, that was going to leave a mark.
Itri turned and slicked his wet hair back from his face. Then he adjusted his lapels, his sleeves, and calmly descended the steps.
It was both chilling and sexy as hell.
“Itri, you damn fool.”
Arlo jumped when Skye appeared at his side, seemingly from nowhere. Her golden hair fell in limp, wet sheets across her back, and mascara streamed down her face, mingling with the raindrops.
“He’s going to kill the poor bastard.” She followed the statement with a sigh of…resignation.
Arlo blinked. Oh, he had no doubt the shifter would get a serious beatdown, but murder?
“Are you for real?”
Skye shrugged, the movement somehow graceful despite her messy appearance. “Dragons aren’t particularly forgiving when it comes to their mates.”
“Mates?” His eyes widened, his attention swinging back and forth between Skye and the shifter on the floor. “That guy is his mate?”
“No, not…” She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled through her lips. “Never mind. Just…go stop him.”
“Me?” he yelped. “Why me? You two clearly know each other. I met him like five minutes ago.”
“Unless you want to be scrubbing blood off the walls for the next three days?”
Gross. He really hadn’t needed that visual, but she did make a fair point. “But again, why me?”
Skye met his eyes through the rain. “Because you’re probably the only person he’ll listen to right now.”
He swiped the water out of his face and huffed. It shouldn’t be so hard to get a straight answer.
“Why. Me?”
Again, she didn’t say anything. She just held his gaze and arched an eyebrow with an expression that practically hemorrhaged condescension.
Kind of rude, and it definitely made him feel like he was missing something. He didn’t know what the hell mates had to do with the guy listening to him, unless…
“Oh!” Realization dawned, and understanding smacked him right in the face. “You mean me? I’m the dragon’s mate?” He paused, shook his head. “I mean, I’m Itri’s mate? Itri’s my mate?”
That actually made a lot of sense when he thought about it. The way he felt almost obsessively drawn to a total stranger. How he couldn’t seem to string two words together when in Itri’s presence. The reason he couldn’t stop thinking about him, and why he felt both exhilarated and petrified every time the male smiled at him.
It also explained why Itri had gone all scorched earth over him being manhandled by a guest.
“Arlo?” Skye said, interrupting his epiphany.
“Hmm?”
She stared at him pointedly and jerked her head to the side, toward the stairs.
Oh, right. He was supposed to be stopping his mate from committing multiple felonies.
Mate .
It didn’t sound as weird as he thought it would. He just didn’t know how he felt about it yet. On the bright side, it could have been worse. He could have ended up mated to the douchebag about to be written off the census.
“Arlo!”
He jumped when Skye shouted at him. “Yes, yes. I’m going!”
Because it was the right thing to do. Even if a big part of him felt like the bullying shifter kind of had it coming.
Jogging across the room, he reached the bottom of the staircase just as Itri descended the last step. Now that he was there, though, he had no idea what to do. He’d never actively tried to prevent a homicide before.
Did he place himself between Itri and the target? Efficient, but it also felt like a good way to meet the gods. He suspected that his background in customer service wouldn’t be much help in the situation, either.
Luckily, he did have a fair amount of experience with overprotective shifters and their mates to draw from.
“Itri!”
It seemed to take a great deal of effort, but the dragon tore his murderous gaze away from his prey to look at Arlo. “Yes, dove?”
“You can’t kill him.” He prayed his mate didn’t ask why because he honestly didn’t have a good answer.
“Don’t worry.” Itri’s eyes slid back to the shifter, and a feral grin curved his lips. “I won’t kill him.”
Cold dread rippled down his spine. Somehow, Itri had made not killing the guy sound even worse.
He could work with it, though. Through his casual observations of other couples, it appeared to him that the more immediate threat always won out. Even if that threat was realistically nothing more than minor discomfort.
Pulling from four years of drama club, he combed his wet curls forward into his face, covering his brow and one eye. Then he crossed his arms and rounded his shoulders, making himself look as small and miserable as possible.
“I understand.” He nodded seriously, as if this wasn’t the most insane conversation he’d ever had. “Before you don’t kill him, though, can you maybe do something about the rain?” He waited a heartbeat, letting the words linger between them before drawing a hand pathetically down the side of his face. Lowering his voice to a weak murmur, he added, “I’m cold.”
Was it dramatic? Obviously. Oscar worthy? No doubt. Manipulative as hell? Sure, but desperate times and all that.
But did it work? Oh, hell yeah.
The violence didn’t drain out of Itri all at once, but the glow faded from his eyes, and his posture relaxed as he swayed toward him. Inhaling deeply, through his nose, he held the breath for a moment, then released it through his parted lips.
The roaring wind calmed to a gentle breeze before vanishing completely. The rain slowed to a drizzle as the clouds overhead broke apart and dissipated. Within a matter of seconds, only the aftermath of the storm remained.
“So sorry, dove. Is that better?”
Arlo gave him a genuine smile. Mostly because, yeah, he already felt a hell of a lot better. And maybe a little because, for a big, badass dragon, the guy was kind of adorable.
“Much, thank you.” He stretched his arms out to his sides and shook his hands, flinging water from the sleeves of his jacket. “I’m still wet, though.”
Sadly, the shifter chose that moment to attempt his escape, and he did so in the most attention-seeking way possible. Throwing his mask off, he tried to scramble backwards but mostly succeeded in slipping and flailing across the wet tiles.
If he had just acted like a normal person, he might have gotten away with it.
Itri’s eyes snapped back to him, a deep, resonating growl vibrating in his chest. “This seems to be your lucky day. For reasons I can’t possibly comprehend, my mate doesn’t want to see you in pieces.”
“You people are fucking crazy!” the shifter shouted back. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Arlo dropped his head and groaned. At that point, the dude was just begging to be smited. Smote? Smoted? Whatever.
A loud, high-pitched screech like the battle cry of a fucking pterodactyl ripped from Itri’s throat and rang throughout the ballroom.
“Let this be a lesson in manners,” he said, his voice dripping with ice. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a spark of lightning blasting into the guy’s chest, sending him sprawling onto his back again. “You will take care with how you treat what’s mine.”
“Itri!”
As if nothing at all had happened, Itri turned back to him with a soft, charming smile. “Yes?”
“Uh…” Thrown off by his calm demeanor, Arlo blinked, his brain casually malfunctioning. “Can we go?”
“Of course, dove.” Striding over to him, Itri swept him into his arms, cradling him to his chest like some swooning Vaudeville damsel.
“Put me down.” He smacked his hand against Itri’s chest, wincing when it sent a stinging pain through his fingers. Stupid dragon. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you somewhere dry and warm.” Deep and seductive, his voice wrapped around Arlo like smooth silk. “That is what you requested, isn’t it?”
Arlo settled into his arms and stopped squirming. No, that hadn’t been what he’d requested , but after everything he’d just been through, if Itri wanted to help him out of his clothes, well…
Who was he to argue?