18. Oz
Oz
If I have to hear Saint Ashbourne drone on for another godsdamned minute, I’m going to simply get up and leave.
He’s spent the last two hours complaining about every facet of Pine Gulch—the people, the land, the weather, the travelability, the food.
Even the gorgeous steak in front of him right now doesn’t have enough marbling, it’s not soft enough, it’s not juicy enough.
Glancing at my comm watch, I note it’s nearly ten p.m.
I wonder what Wilder’s doing right now?
“Can you believe that?”
The irritation in Saint’s tone pulls me out of my head, and I blink, trying to figure out what he’s bitching about now.
“It’s almost ten,” I say instead, deciding I don’t really care how good of a time he has.
At the last minute, I remind myself that it matters at least a little bit because he’s representing the Sandovals, and we don’t want to piss them off and lose Wilder’s ranch or my spa dreams. I flash Saint a smile.
“One more drink and then I’ll head home? ”
He smirks at me, reaching down to rest a hand on his thigh. “Skip the drink. Let’s go to my room.”
I sigh, swirling the dregs of my martini in the glass as I consider how to tactfully rebuff him again. Looking up, I force what I hope is an understanding smile. “I’m taken, Saint. I can’t go upstairs with you and betray Wilder.”
He scoffs. “Were you serious about that?”
It occurs to me that he might even be trying to tempt me to fuck up this deal, and I won’t give him that satisfaction. Not with Wilder’s ranch and my twenty grand on the line. I can almost taste my spa as long as I don’t screw this up.
“I respect him so much,” I say. “He’s kind and sexy and reliable.”
Saint’s nostrils flare. “Reliable. I’d die if you ever described me that way.”
I never would. Nothing about Saint was ever reliable. At least, not for me.
“If we’re not gonna fuck, then I’m leaving,” he snaps, resting both palms on the white cotton tablecloth. “This is your last chance to have this, Oz.”
Gross.
“Have a wonderful night.” I stand and flare my wings slightly. “And thank you for dinner and helping us raise so much money for the wildlife fund. That was very generous of you.”
He growls, baring both fangs at me as his brows pinch together in an unhappy-looking vee.
Refusing to gloat over what feels like a victory, I spin on my heel and head for the door.
The wraith hotel’s main ballroom is stunning—all dark marble and midcentury human fixtures—but give me the Whiskey Business’ wooden walls any day.
Once I’m outside in the dark stone courtyard, I flare my wings wide and take to the sky. Yet as I fly, worry builds within me.
We can’t piss Saint Ashbourne off too much. What if he fucks Wilder’s ranch deal out of sheer pettiness? I wouldn’t put it past him.
By the time I get back to Wilder’s cottage, I’m fretting over the entire thing, debating if I should go back and talk to Saint about it to ensure our past doesn’t affect Wilder’s future.
But I can’t imagine any good outcome of that conversation unless I end up in Saint’s bed…
something I’m not willing to do for any amount of money.
Whiskey Business flutters her shutters at me as I glide over Main Street. A couple monsters look up and wave. I love this place so much, and I swear to the gods, I’ll never mate unless I find someone who loves it as much as I do.
I’m still mulling that over as I drop out of the sky in front of Wilder’s rental.
He’s at the door as I land at the base of the cottage steps, stalking down into the yard with a concerned look, scanning my face. “What’s wrong? Did he hurt you?”
Ginger follows him down the steps with crumbs stuck to her lips, ears up as she gives me the once-over.
I shake my head, nipping at the edge of my thumb.
“No, no, he didn’t. He tried to get me to come up to his room, but I declined, of course, because some part of me wondered if it was all a test. Then, on the way home, I got to thinking, what if we piss him off so badly, he torches this whole deal, and it gets fucked up for you? ” I look up at him. “And for me.”
I can’t read Wilder’s expression. The way his jaw’s grit tightly. Is he…mad? Oh fuck, now I’ve pissed them both off in the same night.
He spins on his heel and stalks back inside, disappearing without a word. Rushing after him, I call his name. “Wilder, Wilder, stop! What are you doing? It’s gonna be fine. I’m sure I’m just overthinking it!”
He grabs the communication disk from its holder on the wall and tosses it on the kitchen table.
Ignoring me, he directs it to call Emmer Sandoval.
I hover by the door, biting the edge of my thumb as a big, handsome minotaur comes into view.
He stares at Wilder, who’s standing with both hands on his hips, looking like he’s about to rip someone’s head off.
“Wilder Lane, good to see you,” the other male says evenly. “To what do I owe this—”
“I want another rep to manage the final details of the sale,” Wilder barks. “Saint Ashbourne is unacceptable to me.”
The minotaur chuckles. “He’s tough, but that’s what we wanted to ensure every detail is fully fleshed out. You know how important it is to Father that the ranch goes to the right monster.”
“It’s not the deal details I’m worried about,” Wilder says in that deep baritone.
“He’s made sexual advances on my mate twice just this evening, and I find it incredibly unprofessional.
If I’m honest with you, I’d love nothing better than to rip his head from his body, and the only reason I haven’t is because he represents your family in this sale. ”
The minotaur scowls. “He what? Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Wilder says. “This deal is important to us both, and we’re down to the final details.
I’m not trying to cause drama. I’m grateful to your family for the opportunity for Oz and me to carry on your incredible legacy, but I will not stand by while this asshole invites my mate to his room. ”
Emmer frowns. “I’m sorry to virtually meet you for the first time like this… I’ll take care of it immediately. Please apologize to your mate for us and don’t worry about the deal. Just continue on as planned, and I’ll have the agency send another rep as soon as we can find one.”
“Appreciate that,” Wilder says.
The other male clicks off, his life-sized hologram disappearing from view.
I don’t know what to do or say. Did that just happen? Did Wilder just call the fucking Sandovals to tell them to cut Saint out of this deal? Is he for real?
He turns to me, crossing the kitchen until he’s so close I could reach out and touch him.
“Are you okay?” He moves like he’s going to touch me, but at the last minute slips both hands into his jeans pockets instead.
“Oz,” he presses, brows furiously bunched, “are you alright? He didn’t touch you? Didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” I manage. “Truly, I had it handled. We were in public. You didn’t have to—”
“Yes, I did,” he says.
“What if they don’t find another rep quickly?” Worry rises again.
“Then it’ll take longer,” he says, like it's the simplest thing in the world. “And you’ll be my fake boyfriend if you’re open to it. I’ll pay more, whatever you need. Just…I can’t stand by and watch him treat you like that.” He sighs. “Do you know how hard it was watching you two fly off tonight?”
“Thank you,” I whisper, “for having my back.” I slide my hands to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It’s a fascinating sound, and I can’t wait to feel mine beat one day.
“Speaking of unwanted advances,” he continues with a frown, “I shouldn’t have kissed you earlier. That wasn’t okay. I just—” He lifts a hand, running it through short blond hair. “Something came over me.” Green eyes flash in the low light of the corner fireplace.
This feels pivotal, this moment where I think he’s admitting he wanted that kiss. Shit, I wanted it too. And then when I had it, I didn’t want it to end.
“I wanted it to be real,” I admit softly. “And it felt real to me. I got lost in that kiss, Wilder.”
His eyes flash again, and he steps backward, my hands falling away from his chest.
Shit, shit, shit. Why did I just make this weird?
Cocking his head to the side, he drops his gaze to my mouth, nostrils flaring. The predatory look in his eye has my self-preservation running high, and I flare my wings protectively up and partially around myself. It’s instinctual, that need to be ready to fight.
Wilder looks up at them, his serious expression morphing into a seductive smile.
“You liked that kiss, Oz?”
He steps closer until his big body presses against mine, backing me against the door. “It was real.” He cocks his head to the side, hovering his mouth over mine. “And I wanna do it again. But I don’t want to be like that fucking asshole, just taking whatever I want with no care for you whatsoever.”
Oh gods, is Wilder Lane about to kiss me? Dropping my wings at my back, I shuffle them as I stare at his beautiful mouth.
Here goes nothing.
“Good.” I push forward until my lips touch his. “I can’t imagine anything I want more right now than your mouth.”
Wilder surges forward, pressing his lips to mine so hard my head hits the door.
But it unleashes something inside me, and I hop up into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.
Thrusting my tongue into his mouth, I drag it along his, marveling at how soft he is.
And his taste is decadent, like smoky honey and warm sunlight.
His mouth moves hungrily over mine, soft growls tumbling from his throat as he holds me against the door.
Soft lips explore every inch of my mouth as he moves from the corner of my lips over the swell of the top, then the bottom.
Then his tongue slips inside to tangle with mine until we’re biting at each other like we can’t get enough of what we need.
I’m hard and aching, my body tense with lust when he pulls back. My lips burn from that brutally perfect kiss. It was like everything Wilder does—deep, intense, and quietly commanding.
A rough hand slides up my chest, fingertips resting lightly on my throat.
My cock kicks against my thigh, precum dripping from my tip as his thumb traces a path over my lower lip.
When I let out a needy little groan, he tightens his grip until I’m writhing against his bigger frame.
His giant erection is a hard bar against mine, and I grind faster, needing more.
I part from that sinful mouth long enough to press my forehead to his. “Wilder, I—”
When my voice trails off, he pulls me from the door but doesn’t set me down. Never looking away, he turns and walks past the kitchen to the bedroom. The double windows’ shades are drawn, the room dark except for the pale sheets and pillows on his king-sized bed.
He throws me down into it, smirking when I bounce on the soft mattress. “Take your clothes off.”
That’s all he says as he steps backward to lean against the wall, slipping both hands into his pockets. He props a foot up, silent as he watches with that same sexy expression.
Moving up to sit on my heels, I tuck my wings carefully at my back as I stare at him with a lift of the chin. “Wouldn’t you like to remove them for me, Mister Lane?”