Chapter 13
13
RUBY
T he Christmas lights twinkle mockingly as I adjust the last wreath on the wall of the function room in my bar. Everything’s perfect—too perfect, maybe—which means something’s bound to go wrong. No, I can’t think like that.
“Ruby, stop fussing.” Ash’s voice carries from where he’s stocking the private bar. “The decorations are fine. The room looks amazing.”
I step back, gnawing on my bottom lip. The emerald garland frames the windows perfectly, tiny white lights casting a warm glow across the polished wooden tables we’ve pushed against the walls. They’re filled with silver chafing dishes, platters of baked goods, plates, cutlery, and festive red-and-green serviettes. A Christmas tree stands in the far corner because I couldn’t not have one. But I have to admit, even I can appreciate how the vintage ornaments catch the light. They’re all from Aunt Eve’s collection, the ones she’d spend hours telling me stories about while I helped her decorate the bar every year.
The silver star on top is slightly crooked, just like every year she put it up, refusing to fix it. “Some things are meant to be imperfect, Ruby,” she’d say, but now I wonder if she knew even then that everything would fall apart after she was gone.
“Earth to Ruby?” Ash waves a bottle of premium vodka at me. “Where’d you go just now?”
“Just...” I gesture vaguely at the room, my fingers automatically finding my aunt’s snowflake pendant. “Making sure everything’s perfect. We can’t screw this up, Ash.”
He sets down the bottle and comes over, squeezing my shoulder with a grin. “When have we ever screwed up an event?”
“There was the Thompson wedding.”
“That wasn’t our fault. How were we supposed to know the bride was running away with the cake decorator?”
Despite everything, I snort. “Or the Miller retirement party?”
“Okay, that one was definitely not our fault. Who brings a pet raccoon to a bar?”
The first notes of All I Want for Christmas Is You drift through the speakers—because apparently, I can’t escape Mariah Carey even in my own establishment—and I check my phone. 7:45 p.m. The party guests for the Christmas work party should start arriving any minute.
“Right.” I smooth down my dark green vintage-style dress, grateful I remembered to pair it with comfortable boots. It’s going to be a long night. “I should get out there.”
The main bar is already humming with the usual crowd. Old Joe’s in his corner spot, nursing what I know is his second whiskey of the night. The Henderson sisters occupy their usual table, Margaret’s silver hair catching the light as she leans in to whisper, most likely the latest gossip, to Anne. Tommy and his crew from the local lodge are huddled around the pool table.
The familiarity of it all helps steady my nerves, but there’s still that undercurrent of tension I can’t shake. Less than two weeks until I either marry a mate or lose everything. The thought makes my stomach churn.
The door chimes, and the first party guests start arriving. I direct them down the hallway, admiring the parade of cocktail dresses—a stunning red number with a sweetheart neckline, a midnight blue sheath that shines in the light. The women move casually, their heels clicking against the hardwood floors. A group of men and several women arrive next, and I direct them.
Then the door chimes again, and my world stops.
He fills the doorway like he was carved to fit it, all broad shoulders and lethal grace. Every inch of me suddenly sits up and pays attention. The stranger has to be at least six-four. The mauve button-down he’s wearing clings to his chest, showing he works out. It’s tucked into black pants that look painted on strong thighs.
But it’s his face that makes my breath catch. Strong jawline shadowed with just enough stubble to make my fingers itch to touch it. High cheekbones. Ink black hair that falls past his jaw, some strands tucked behind his ear while others sweep across eyes that... oh God. His eyes are dark, impossibly dark, and they’re scanning the room with an intensity that makes heat pool in my stomach.
A small geometric tattoo peeks out from under his sleeve as he runs a hand through his hair. The simple gesture is so casual, it leaves me captivated. He moves like someone who knows exactly how dangerous he is and doesn’t need to prove it to anyone. Like gravity itself bends around him.
“Need some help picking your jaw up off the floor?” Ash appears beside me, his voice low and amused. “Or are you too busy falling for Mr. Sexy over there?”
“What?” I blink, trying to remember how words work. My insides feel too tight, too hot. “I’m not… I was just…”
“Sure, sure,” he smirks. “I need to grab some stuff for the party room. Try not to drool on the counter while I’m gone.”
I watch him disappear down the hallway, grateful for the moment to collect myself. This is ridiculous. I already have enough Alpha complications in my life with Knox and Garrett. I don’t need another one, especially not one who makes me want to bare my neck just by existing in my general vicinity. And this man is all Alpha. One look at him says it all. I turn to put some glasses away, needing to keep myself busy and distracted.
“Ruby, isn’t it?” The voice. Deep, smooth, and gravely coming from behind me. I turn slowly, and there he is, leaning slightly against my bar like he owns every room he enters. This close, I can see his eyes aren’t just dark, they’re practically black, with tiny flecks of gold that seem to spark when they meet mine.
“That’s me.” I manage to sound almost professional, despite the way my heart’s trying to escape my chest. The air between us feels charged, dangerous. “At Winterscape Bar.” I suddenly feel stupid for saying that last part because clearly that’s where he is.
His lips curve into something too wicked to be called a smile.
“Dominic Chase.”
It dawns on me that he’s the man who made the booking tonight.
He extends his hand, and when I take it, a buzz jolts up my arm so intensely, I almost gasp. His skin is hot against mine, his grip firm but not overwhelming.
“Though something tells me you’re the real welcome here.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Smooth talker?”
“Only when it matters.” His thumb brushes across my knuckles before he releases my hand, the touch deliberate. “I own Sentinel Security. Thanks for accommodating our Christmas party on such short notice.”
“Sentinel...” The name clicks, and something cold slides down my spine. Everyone knows about Sentinel Security—the ones you call when traditional security isn’t enough. When things need to... disappear. “Nice to meet you. And you run a very well-known company.”
“Oh, yeah?” That wicked almost-smile again. He leans in slightly, and his scent hits me—cedar and smoke and something darker, something that makes me want to crawl across the bar and bury my face in his chest.
“I’ve heard of your company’s great reputation.”
“Always good to hear. Though we try to keep a low profile. And speaking of reputation...” His smile turns wider. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about this place. Thanks again for taking us on such short notice. You have no idea how often people can let you down.”
“Oh, I think I might.” A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Trust me, I wrote the book on disappointment.”
“You did?” he asks sarcastically, yet his head tilts slightly, and I notice how his hair falls perfectly to frame his face. It’s unfair how effortlessly gorgeous he is.
“It’s why I try to surround myself with only those I trust.”
His eyes darken with interest. “Doesn’t that worry you? That you might miss out on meeting... new, interesting people?”
I shrug, thinking of Knox and Garrett and how they crashed into my carefully ordered life. “Impossible not to meet people in this town, but being super close?” My fingers find my pendant again. “You only need a few good ones.”
“And how do you decide?” He leans in closer, and I catch another wave of his intoxicating scent. “Who’s worth letting in?”
The way he’s looking at me makes my skin tingle. His eyes drop to my lips for a fraction of a second before meeting mine again, holding them with an intensity that makes the rest of the bar fade away. The Christmas music, the chatter, the clink of glasses—it all becomes distant background noise. There’s just him, the heat of his gaze, the slight curl of his lips, the way his fingers have stilled on the bar top mere inches from mine.
I realize with a start how easily I’m talking to him, how natural it is, despite every instinct screaming that he’s a stranger.
When I don’t answer, he says, “Well. I better join the party. Which direction was it again?”
“Let me show you.” I gesture for him to follow me, and as we walk, I’m hyperaware of his presence behind me. The hallway suddenly feels too narrow, too intimate, and my body is screaming at me to slow down, to let him catch up, to let him...
“Beautiful place,” he says, his voice closer than I expected.
“Thanks. I try.”
We reach the party room door, music and voices pouring out, and I gesture inside. “Well, here you are. Ash will take care of anything you need. Enjoy the night.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” The endearment rolls off his tongue like a caress, and I practically swoon. His eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away.
He strides into the room, and my heart’s racing. Three Alphas—all impossibly attractive and dangerous—have suddenly entered my life after years of terrible luck in that department. It reminds me of Lily and Hannah’s insistence that they planned to set me up with three Alphas... Surely, these couldn’t be the ones they meant?
Mom’s warnings echo in my head. “ They’ll draw you in with their scent, their strength, and make you feel safe right before they show their teeth.”
As I head back to the main bar, I focus on pushing those memories away, not wanting to be controlled by my past anymore.
Hours blur together in a haze of pouring drinks and making small talk with the regulars. Every time I check on Ash in the party room, he’s in his element, effortlessly keeping glasses full while charming the corporate crowd. The platters of appetizers are down to crumbs, so I replace them, but Ash handles the party easily.
And each time—though I try to convince myself I’m just being helpful—my eyes search for Dominic. He’s always in the thick of things. Sometimes, he’s leaning against the wall, nodding as people cluster around him. Other times, he’s seated at one of the tables, saying something that makes the whole group laugh. Not once does he look my way, and I tell myself the tight feeling in my chest is relief, not disappointment.
You’re being ridiculous . I wipe down the main bar for the hundredth time. My heat’s coming; that’s all this is. Any Alpha would have my hormones doing backflips right now.
The main bar has quieted some, just the usual evening crowd nursing their drinks. Bob’s telling his fishing stories again, and the Henderson sisters are debating about the best pie recipe. It’s almost peaceful.
Then the door bangs open, letting in a blast of cold air and snow.
A man stumbles in, shoulders off his coat, and hangs near the door, revealing a rumpled dress shirt. He’s maybe mid-thirties, with the kind of face that probably looks friendly when it’s not twisted into a sneer. Right now, though, his eyes are glazed, and his movements are loose in that dangerous way that means he’s well past his drinking limit.
He lurches toward the bar, bumping off tables as he goes. I’m already reaching for the landline phone under the counter when he clips the corner of Bob’s table hard enough to send his nearly-full beer sloshing over the rim.
“What the fuck?” Bob stands, his cheeks flushing. “Watch where you’re going!”
The drunk whirls around, swaying. “Fuck you, old man. Get out of my fucking way.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “Bob, let me get you a fresh one, no charge.” I’m already moving, grabbing a cloth to mop up the spill. The glass, thankfully, stayed upright. “No harm done.”
But the drunk is already at the bar, slamming his palm down hard enough to make the glasses rattle. “Serve me, Omega bitch!”
Tommy, from the pool table, takes a step forward. “Hey, man, cool it.”
“Fuck off!” The drunk’s hand shoots out, catching the wooden bowl of complimentary nuts. It goes flying, scattering peanuts and pretzels across the floor like shrapnel. “I said serve me a fucking drink!”
“Sir.” I keep my voice steady, professional, even as my pulse races. “I can see you’ve already had plenty tonight. I can’t legally serve you in this condition. I’m happy to call you a cab?—”
“Don’t tell me what I’ve had!” He lunges across the bar, faster than I expected, and his fingers close around my wrist like a vise. His scent is putrid–stale beer and sour anger.
I’m reaching for my phone with my free hand from my back pocket, thinking I can message Ash, when suddenly the drunk’s grip vanishes. A familiar scent of cedar and smoke wraps around me, and there’s Dominic, all six-foot-four of coiled strength as he shoves the drunk back. The man trips over a chair, going down in a tangle of limbs and wood with a crash that makes everyone jump.
“Ruby.” Dominic doesn’t look at me, but his voice is warm honey even as his stance screams danger. His sleeves are rolled up, showing those geometric tattoos I noticed earlier, and the muscles in his forearms flex as he advances on the fallen man. “Let me handle this piece of shit. You shouldn’t have to deal with trash like him.”
My mouth goes dry, watching him move. He’s graceful even now, like a predator stalking prey. I step back, partly because I should give him room, partly because the Alpha command in his voice makes me listen.
The drunk scrambles to his feet, red-faced and spitting curses. “Who the fuck do you think?—”
Dominic’s hand shoots out, fisting in the man’s shirt collar. He drags him close, and even though his voice is quiet, it carries.
“I’m the man doing you a favor right now. We can do this the easy way, where you walk out that door and never come back, or...” His other hand flexes, and I watch the drunk’s eyes widen. “We can do this the hard way. Your choice. But if you take a swing at me?” His smile is all teeth. “Trust me, you won’t like what happens next.”
The drunk’s response is to throw a wild punch that catches Dominic’s lip. My heart stops, guilt already churning in my stomach—he got hurt helping me!
Dominic just sighs, touching his split lip with his free hand. When it comes away bloody, his eyes go cold. “Wrong choice, dickhead.”
The punch happens so fast, I almost miss it. One moment, the drunk is trying to break free; the next, he’s sprawled on the floor, blood gushing from his nose as he howls. Dominic hauls him up by the back of his shirt like he weighs nothing, dragging him toward the door.
The bar is dead silent as they disappear outside. A moment later, Dominic returns alone, grabbing the drunk’s coat from the hook and tossing it out after him. The door closes with a final-sounding thud.
When he turns back to me, he’s smiling like nothing happened. “I’ve got the asshole in a cab to take him straight home as per his licence.” But I’m too busy noticing blood is still welling from his split lip. A few of those in the bar are clapping. I’m in awe! He tries to wipe the mess away with the back of his hand, but it only smears the blood worse.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Your lip…”
“Is fine.” He’s suddenly right in front of me, close enough that I have to tip my head back to meet his eyes. There’s a dangerous glitter in them that makes my breath catch.
“At least let me clean it up.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “You got hurt because of me. It’s the least I can do.”
“Ruby—”
“Please.” I don’t know why it matters so much, but it does. Maybe because he defended me without hesitation, or maybe because I can’t stand seeing his blood, knowing it was spilled over me.
Ash appears beside us, gaze widening at Dominic’s split lip. “What the hell happened out here?”
“Some drunk thought he could manhandle Ruby.” Dominic’s voice carries an edge that makes me shiver. “He won’t be making that mistake again.”
“Shit.” Ash shakes his head. “You okay, Boss?”
“I’m fine, but can you watch the bar for a few minutes? I need to patch Dominic up.”
“You got it. The party’s winding down, anyway. They’re mostly just finishing their drinks.”
I lead Dominic down the hallway to the staff bathroom. It’s small but clean, with warm yellow lighting. The ancient first aid kit sits in its familiar spot under the sink.
“Really, I’m fine,” he protests as I dig out antiseptic and cotton pads. “It’s barely a scratch.”
“Humor me.” I gesture to the wooden stool in the corner. “Please?”
He sits, and suddenly, the small space feels even smaller. His knees spread naturally to accommodate his height, and I have to step between them to reach his face. My hands tremble slightly as I dampen a cotton pad.
“This might sting,” I warn, but he doesn’t flinch when I start cleaning away the blood. The split is small, just catching the edge of his lower lip, but it’s still bleeding sluggishly.
I’m acutely aware of every point of almost-contact between us—the heat radiating from his body, the way his breath ghosts across my wrist as I work, the intoxicating blend of his scent mixed with antiseptic. He watches me with those dark eyes, trying not to smile as I carefully dab at the cut.
“You really are a beautiful person, you know that, Ruby?”
The words catch me off guard. “Not really. You came here for a party and ended up in a fight.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “That’s my job, remember? Security’s what I do.”
I’m so close now, I can see the gold flecks in his eyes and could count his eyelashes if I wanted to. My body hums with awareness, every nerve ending alive to his presence. He hasn’t touched me once, but I feel branded by his gaze alone.
“You should learn some self-defense,” he says softly. “I have a studio I go to where I train. I could show you some moves.”
“I can handle myself.” But the image of him teaching me, his hands positioning my body, has heat pool between my thighs in seconds. “Besides, Ash usually takes care of any trouble.”
“Ash isn’t always going to be around.” His voice drops lower, sending shivers down my spine. “And I could teach you a few moves that would have guys like that jerk in the bar on the ground before they knew what hit them.”
I dab at his lip again as a fresh drop of blood wells up. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is when you know what you’re doing.” His eyes never leave my face as I work. “The human body has so many vulnerable points. Size doesn’t matter nearly as much as people think.”
“Says the man built like a brick wall.”
He chuckles, the sound dark and sexy as fuck. “All the more reason to trust me on this. I’ve trained people half your size who can take down men bigger than me.”
The bleeding’s almost stopped now. No point trying to put a Band-Aid on a lip. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not going to let this go?”
“Because I’m not.” That dangerous smile, again, has my stomach flipping. “Come to my studio. One lesson. If you hate it, I’ll never bring it up again.”
“And if I don’t hate it?”
His eyes darken. “Then we’ll see where it goes.”
Something in his tone makes me feel bold. “You must have dozens of women throwing themselves at you for private lessons. Your girlfriend?—”
“No girlfriend.” His eyes lock with mine. “No wife. No one who’s caught my eye.” The unspoken ‘until now’ hangs between us, and I tell myself I’m imagining the way his scent deepens, his gaze turns hungry.
“Well, you’re all done.” I step back, suddenly needing space to breathe. “You’ll survive to fight another day.”
His hand catches mine, and suddenly, I’m in his arms, pressed against the solid wall of his chest. His heat surrounds me, and I can’t help the small sound that escapes my throat.
“I’m trying so hard to keep my distance.” His voice is rough, desperate. “But your scent... it calls to me. It’s so rare to find someone who captivates me like this.” His free hand hovers near my face, not quite touching. “I don’t mean to come on so fast, but I need to know if it’s just me feeling this.”
I can barely breathe. Every inch of my skin prickles with awareness, my insides screaming to press closer, to let this powerful Alpha do what he wants with me. His chest rises and falls against mine, his heartbeat as wild as my own. We’re sharing the same air, and I’m drowning in cedar and smoke and burning fire.
Three Alphas in my life, and this one—this dangerous, beautiful man—makes me want to throw away every warning, every defense I’ve built. The energy between us crackles like lightning, and I know with bone-deep certainty that if he kisses me now, I’ll be lost.
Maybe I already am.
“Ruby.” He breathes my name like a prayer, his lips so close to mine, I can feel the warmth of his breath. “Talk to me. Tell me what you want?”
I should. God , I should. But the words stick in my throat as his scent wraps around me, making my world tilt. His hand slides up my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake until his fingers brush my neck. Just that slight touch sends tingles racing down my spine.
“I...” My voice comes out hoarse. “I can’t think when you’re this close.”
“Good.” That dangerous smile again, but there’s something vulnerable in his eyes. “Because I’ve been thinking too much since the moment I walked in and saw you. Trying to be professional, trying to keep my distance...”
His thumb traces my jaw, and my knees nearly buckle.
“Why?” The question slips past my lips.
“Because….” His other hand settles on my hip, steady and warm. “I don’t want to rush this, don’t want to scare you away, but...” He inhales sharply. “Your sweet scent is driving me crazy.”
I’m trembling now, caught between wanting to run and wanting to climb him like a tree. His fingers thread through my hair, and I’m lost in the sensation, in his scent, in the magnetic pull between us. He leans in, and I can feel the inferno of his lips just a breath away from mine.
My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can hear it. This is it. This is?—
“Ruby!” Ash’s voice echoes down the hallway. “Got a situation out here!”
I jerk back like I’ve been shocked, nearly stumbling in my haste.
“I-I better go.” My voice comes out breathless.
Dominic hasn’t moved, one hand still raised where it had been in my hair. His eyes are dark, savage, fixed on me like I’m the only thing in his world. He doesn’t look frustrated or worried—if anything, he looks like a predator who knows his prey can’t escape for long.
“I, um...” I smooth down my dress with trembling hands, trying to find my usual snark. “Duty calls. Places to be, fires to put out. You know how it is.” I’m babbling, but I can’t seem to stop. “Running a bar. Always something catching fire. Not literally. Usually.”
“Go.” His lips curve into that brutally sexy smile. “But Ruby?”
I pause at the door, my hand on the knob, glancing back. “Yes?”
“Come to the studio sometime this week. Let me teach you how to defend yourself.”
It’s not just about self-defense. We both know that. I find myself nodding.
The promise in his voice follows me all the way back to the bar, along with the lingering sensation of his almost-kiss.
I wonder if this is how Mom felt at first—this intoxicating blend of desire and danger—but something feels different about Dominic. Something feels... right.
And that’s exactly what scares me the most.