Chapter 34
Tristan
A hush fell over the bar, the same establishment they’d been to the night before.
Instead of the small area tucked into the corner, though, this time they had a section blocked off on one side.
Two signs were posted at the entrance of the area, and a waitress occasionally walked around to get orders.
It was a far cry from the VIP section in Los Angeles over Christmas.
They weren’t in a Dick world anymore, and it showed.
Gerard had invited anyone of high status, which included the leaders, betas, lead enforcers…
and anyone from Jessie’s crew who wanted to come.
He’d known that Jessie and Austin planned to stay in tonight, and Evan and his lead enforcer would be busy hashing out details, but he’d made his invitations for them clear.
Most people thought he was making a statement, putting Jessie’s entire crew on level with the best and the brightest. And part of that was likely true. Tristan knew, though, that in reality, Gerard wanted to party, and he knew the Ivy House gang was a damn good time.
Previously loud chatter and barks of laughter reduced to a murmur.
Shoes slid against the floor, people shifting and jostling each other to change position.
It reminded him of when Jessie entered the bar in O’Briens, and her gargoyle forced everyone to simmer down and step aside so she could greet her mate.
“She decided to show,” John said in a low voice, seated next to Tristan on a high stool with his back to the wall.
Tristan’s heart picked up its pace. The crowd parted to let the newcomers through, not usual for gargoyles. Tristan got his first glimpse, and his breath caught.
Natasha walked slightly in front of Sebastian clad in a stunning, form-fitting evening gown.
The nude tone of the dress was overlaid with vertical lines of silver sequins and beading that caught the light and created an elegant shimmer.
The plunging neckline was framed by a slight scallop over her breasts, adding drama and polish.
A thigh-high slit ran to the floor, and her long hair cascaded past her shoulders in a wave.
A diamond and sapphire necklace adorned her neck, as extravagant as something Jessie might wear to an important dinner, and instead of a watch, she wore a matching cuff bracelet that must’ve cost a fortune.
Her hips swayed suggestively as she moved through the room, catching everyone’s eye, male and female alike.
She held her shoulders back, arrogance and confidence, while her energy flirted with everyone she passed, adding a flare of sexy sophistication.
Dark makeup outlined her eyes and a pop of color drew attention to her lips, pulled into a smile as though she were just about to laugh.
He watched, transfixed, not able to tear his eyes away from her, not caring who walked in behind them.
John moved to give her the seat next to Tristan.
“No,” he said. “Stay there. Just move a little away if you would. Not far.”
John didn’t ask questions. He followed the directions to the letter.
Natasha paused in her progress to say hi to Gerard and thank him for the invitation. His lead enforcer stepped closer eagerly, looking for an introduction. She’d already stepped away, finding Hollace. Cyra drifted closer, and Fred met them there, Natasha drawing people like bears to honey.
“Not to stick my nose into your business,” John said, his voice still low, “but it was a good move, taking her to her bed last night. I spoke to her this morning. She seemed to like it.”
“She probably thought I had an ulterior motive.”
“Actually, she mentioned that you seem like a caregiver.”
Tristan’s focus snapped John’s way. “She was probably being sarcastic,” he said carefully.
“No.” He hesitated. “I don’t think she had the capacity for sarcasm this morning. She wasn’t feeling the best, given the crap whiskey they’d been drinking all night.”
“And the quantity.”
“That, too. If I had to guess, she seemed pleased. Like she might like that sort of thing.” He shrugged. “But that’s just a guess. I never devoted much time to understanding women. I just made sure the scorned ones weren’t at my back.”
It didn’t seem like a guess at all. It seemed like a hint from a guy who didn’t want to get involved but couldn’t help himself. The former alpha was peeking through.
Tristan smirked, turning away. “Noted—“
He jolted when he realized Natasha had been looking at him. Her gaze zipped away quickly, as though she hadn’t wanted him to notice.
“She mention anything else about last night?” he asked, keeping his voice low. She didn’t have the hearing of a shifter, but just in case…
“Are you kidding? I had to come up with a creative way to get that much. I’d wondered if you’d chosen the girl or the games, that’s why I asked.”
When he put it like that, Tristan was glad he’d made the choice he had.
“The guys, Jasper and Ulric, don’t remember much from that time period, though,” John went on. “Aurora doesn’t remember anything past the first shot in this one. Doesn’t seem like she got out much as an alpha’s daughter.”
“She kept things respectable in her territory. It sounded like she had to. Austin Steele allows her plenty of freedom. She’s trying to figure out a new normal.”
He could see John nod out of the corner of his eye. “I thought as much. A lot of alphas can be suffocating with their children, especially in generational packs. Uncles often are, too.”
“You’re going to hear this a lot if you insist on comparing normal shifter life to this convocation, but Austin is not like most alphas.”
“And one day, it might just sink in.”
“Dare to dream.”
Natasha was chatting with Aurora now, the two of them laughing and then grabbing their heads or each other’s hands, clearly sharing their embarrassment from the night before.
Tristan watched Natasha’s every move, riveted.
Spell-struck. To meet her anew, he’d think the same thing as the first time.
He’d assume some sprite was showing him his greatest desire to lure him away, drain all that he was, and kill him for his folly.
The difference was, with Natasha, he wouldn’t regret a single moment of it.
The others didn’t remember much from last night.
He wondered how much Natasha did. If she knew she’d confided in him with something so horribly personal, the root of the trauma that kept building from there.
And also, the root of her terror of small, dark places.
He’d seen an episode of that when he’d first met her.
He wondered if she remembered his heartfelt admission, or if it got to go back in the vault, unsaid. He couldn’t decide if he hoped so or not.
He would stick to his word, though. He’d tell her about his past, and he’d give her another chance to be open about hers. He’d give her a safe space and an opportunity to maybe heal a little. To at least share the burden.
Finally, her gaze had no choice but to turn Tristan’s way.
She’d run out of people to talk to. Her hand brushed her hair over her shoulder and her heeled shoes clicked against the hardwood, though she was in no hurry.
When she’d nearly reached him, she noticed John, and a little tension drained away from her shoulders.
“Hey.” She smiled, an expression that could light up even the darkest of places. “Sorry about last night. I got a little too much into the party spirit.”
“No need to be sorry.” John inclined his head gruffly. “We’ve all been there. I’m happy you gave me something to do, or I might’ve been the one to finally go too far and start a fight. The way gargoyles stand in my way gets under my skin.”
She laughed. “It does with most shifters. If Jessie is around, stand behind her. She forces people to move with her magic. It’s much easier.”
She fidgeted, clearly looking for something else to say before the inevitable.
A swarm of butterflies filled Tristan’s middle. Maybe she did remember.
“It worked, though,” she said, and cleared her throat, the nervousness getting to her. “Niamh’s plan worked. We got them all riled up, and they tried to stage their version of a battle.”
She swallowed and adjusted her weight. The hip closest to Tristan popped out as she marginally leaned his way. A steadying breath, and her eyes slowly, grudgingly followed.
Their gazes met, and his body went loose and tight at the same time. His legs spread a little, a silent invitation for her to thread between his knees like she had last night. To drape herself against him.
Her energy exploded around her and reached for him immediately, sliding against his skin and taking root deep in his middle, sucking him closer. He very nearly got off his chair and closed the distance like she so obviously wanted. Like her magic was trying to unconsciously force.
He resisted and let his nightmare magic out to play, dancing with hers, licking at her.
Her pupils dilated, the only person in the world who had ever been positively affected by his magic.
She liked the danger, because she knew, for her, he was safe.
His danger would be used to protect her, not hurt her.
“Your leadership in the battle was incredible,” she purred, taking a halting step toward him, as though she hadn’t had a choice in the action. He hadn’t succumbed to her magic, and so it was yanking her toward the object of her desire.
“Is tonight the night you beg, little deathwatch angel?” he asked her in a rough voice soaked with desire.
John got off his chair and walked away, giving them space.
He reached out a hand to her, leaving it in the air until she slipped her palm against his. He gently pulled her closer.
“Mates aren’t this nervous to be around each other, Natasha.
” When she was close enough, he dropped her hand to his thigh before moving his to her wrist. He stroked her upper arm before curling his hand around to her back.
He applied pressure, coaxing her closer. “Tell me more about how amazing I am.”
Her nose crinkled, and her eyes glittered with a smile. Her lips twisted to the side, though. Her expression said his company was wanting.
“I would, but I can’t think of a single other thing that might fit.”
“Hmm.” His other hand braced on her hip, bringing her closer still. “I don’t think that is true at all. I think you want to compliment me. To tell me how good I feel, and that you want me to go harder. Deeper.”
A breath tumbled from her parted lips. “Those aren’t compliments, those are demands.”
“Then let’s play the game of demands. Run your hand up my inner thigh and over my hard cock.”
Her chest rose and fell against her dress, pushing her cleavage out of the confining top.
He could see her pulse thumping like a frightened rabbit.
Her eyes were focused on his mouth as she leaned forward.
Her hand inched up, its pressure firm. His hard length was stretched down onto his thigh, trapped within the material.
Her fingers brushed the tip, continuing to move.
They flowed over his trouser-covered shaft and up until her thumb could stroke across the tip.
He fisted her hair and dragged her closer. She let out a tiny whimper of desire. Their lips crashed together. Her taste exploded into his world, and he growled with the rising tide of passion.
Her hand went to his zipper.
“Undo my pants,” he commanded.
The air heated between their lips. She licked out, running her tongue along his bottom lip.
He bent forward for more of her kiss. More of her taste.
“Nah,” she said, and her energy turned taunting. “I don’t think I will. I’m not the one who’s owned. Or didn’t you get that bracelet I sent you, Daddy?”
She leaned back, her eyes on fire. A sensuous little smirk twisted those plump lips.
“I think it is you who will beg tonight,” she said mischievously. “Too bad I’m not a real mate. At least then, I might have pity on you.”
Her fingers applied more pressure as her hand ran back down his cock. Pleasure coursed through him. She ran her palms back down his inner thighs before bracing on his knees. She was still leaned in, her gaze stamping his lips, and her mischievous smile grew.
“And you can’t even look to another to ease your suffering, or they will know you are open to their advances. With you looking like sex itself—dirty, twisted, filthy sex—you won’t be able to go anywhere without them hounding you.”
She pulled back, and this time he did succumb to her. He couldn’t help it. He leaned forward to stay within her heat.
She winked. “I need a drink. I feel like absolute shit, and it seems the hair of the dog is my only choice.”
With that, she gracefully turned around and sauntered out of their section, her hips swaying methodically and his cock pounding so hard he wasn’t sure there was any blood left in his entire body.
“I get it now.” John resumed his seat. “The games, thing. I still think it was wise to choose the girl. When the games get old, she’ll know you weren’t playing for fun, you were playing for keeps.”
Tristan groaned and bent over, bracing his hands on his knees. “I don’t think I’m going to last that long before I combust.”
“No, probably not.”