Chapter 6 #2
“In the bar,” she corrected. “This is my fucking lane! Oh my god, are you going to piss on the place to claim it as your territory? We’re on neutral ground, buddy. Either of us could be here.”
He picked up an axe and hefted it. It was lighter than he expected. The wooden handle was smooth from use, worn pale where dozens of grips had rubbed the finish away, and the head was a simple wedge of brushed steel no bigger than his palm.
“You scared?” he taunted.
“Of you?” she laughed. “Okay, baby, show me what you got.”
Oh, his wolf liked that.
Reece glanced at the target and chucked the axe straight for it. It would have been awesome if the axe had hit anywhere near the circle he was aiming for, but he had been trying to show off and failed miserably.
Delainey burst out laughing and picked up her own axe.
She spent her time looking at the target, aiming carefully, and when she threw, it hit much closer to its goal.
The blade bit into the second ring with a clean crack, vibrating in the wood, and Delainey rolled her throwing shoulder back with a satisfied pop.
Okay. Reece wasn’t going to let that slide.
He picked up his second axe and took his time. He adjusted his grip lower on the handle, lined up the target, and let the release come from his wrist rather than his entire arm. It buried itself right next to Delainey’s, just as he intended.
“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that,” Delainey said. She picked up an axe and threw it.
Reece matched her.
Then another. Then another, and then they were out of axes, and Delainey’s time was up.
“Good game,” she told him. She dusted her palms together and pointed a blue-tipped finger at him. “If I ever need a lumberjack, I know exactly who to call.” She disappeared into the crowded bar, leaving Reece alone to retrieve the axes at the attendant’s command.
By the time he had finished cleaning up their space and surrendered it to the next team of throwers, Delainey was on the dance floor in another man’s arms.
Reece glared.
What the fuck did she think she was doing?
Her body moved in time to the music, her hips swaying from side to side, the light catching the makeup on her face as she tilted her head up and smiled.
The man behind her had his hand on her stomach and was holding her close, but Reece couldn’t have picked him out of a lineup.
The guy was average height, maybe shorter, wearing a button-down with the sleeves cuffed—nothing remarkable, nothing that justified being that close to her.
He was focused on watching the tiny shifts in Delainey’s micro-expressions.
He needed to walk away. Maybe get another drink. Maybe leave the bar entirely. Delainey could dance with whoever the fuck she wanted.
He had no claim on her, and he needed to continue to have no claim on her. That was the smart thing to do, the only thing that would maintain any sanity between the two of them.
His body was coiled tight; if he’d been holding his beer glass it would have shattered, and he could feel gold flickering in his eyes.
Reece stalked onto the dance floor and shot his arm between the man and Delainey.
His forearm caught the man square across the chest and peeled him off her like separating two magnets, the force of it making the guy stumble back a full step.
“I’m dancing with her now.” It came out more growl than words. He had no idea if the man was a shifter, or a witch, or even a human, and he didn’t give a damn.
Delainey raised an eyebrow in challenge, but she did not send him away. The man scurried off rather than argue.
Reece mirrored the motion the man had made, wrapping his arm around Delainey’s midsection and letting his fingers rest on her stomach.
His hand splayed wide, and his thumb teased the band of her bra through her shirt.
The fabric of that sparkly top was thin enough that he could feel the heat of her skin underneath, and her ribs expanded against his palm with each breath.
Delainey let out a throaty sound that made his cock twitch.
Oh, this was bad. Such a bad idea.
He spun her around as the beat changed to something low and pulsing. The bass was heavy enough to vibrate through the sticky concrete floor and up through his boots, and the overhead lights had shifted to a deep amber that turned Delainey’s brown skin to burnished gold.
It was sexy and charged and almost aggressive. Delainey was looking at him like she was daring him to do more. He wasn’t sure what.
His wolf wanted him to tear off her clothes and take her right then, and he hated the way they moved together so naturally, like they had been born to do this.
They could fight together. They could dance together.
God, it would be amazing to fuck together.
His wolf took control of his better judgment for a moment.
He buried his face in her neck, breathing in that scent of roses and fire and teasing her nape with curious fingers. Her curls brushed against his forehead, impossibly soft, and he felt the rapid flutter of her pulse against his lips where they grazed the column of her throat.
One dance bled into another, his senses going haywire with need.
He didn’t know how they ended up outside the bar, and he didn’t give a damn—not when he had Delainey backed up against the wall, her hands creeping under his shirt and hot against his skin.
The alley was narrow, flanked by the bar’s brick exterior on one side and a chain-link fence on the other, the ground uneven gravel that crunched under their shifting feet.
They weren’t kissing, not yet, not exactly. He just kept breathing her in deeper and deeper, and his wolf insisted that he never stop. This was exactly where he was meant to be.
A yellow lightbulb flickered above the back door, barely giving enough light for a human to see by, but more than enough for a werewolf. It made Delainey look ethereal; the warm light highlighting her brown skin, her brown eyes wide with curiosity.
“What are you doing, Reece?” she asked, words full of challenge.
Fuck it.
He leaned in and kissed her. It was a hungry, ugly thing, all rough teeth and tongues battling, like this was a war and someone could win.
She tasted like whiskey and something sweeter underneath, and when his teeth caught her bottom lip, she made a sound halfway between a gasp and a snarl that sent electricity straight down his spine.
Delainey let out a little oomph as her back hit the wall and he pressed her hard against it.
One of his hands anchored on the brick, the scraping against his palm keeping him in the moment.
Her fingers dug into his sides until he felt the prick of her nails, almost strong enough to draw blood, and he groaned against her mouth.
His ribs throbbed where her nails scored, a bright line of almost-pain that only made him press closer, his chest flush against hers until he could feel her heartbeat hammering against his own. One of her hands crept up until it was buried in his hair, and her leg hitched up around his hip.
He pressed himself closer, his cock hard and insistent, his jeans not hiding a damn thing.
Delainey froze.
She tugged her hands away and jerked her leg down, shoving at his chest twice before he was able to force himself to take a step back.
The shove was hard enough to knock the air out of him, her palms flat against his sternum, and the sudden absence of her warmth left the night air biting against his skin.
“Get the fuck off of me,” she said. “What were you thinking?”
I could ask you the same.
He almost shot it back. Reece wanted to scoop her up and fuck her against the wall right there, but she was glaring at him like she hadn’t been participating just as fervently. He held his hands up as if to signal that he wasn’t holding her prisoner and took another step back.
“You’re free to walk away any time you like.”
Her face was flushed, lips swollen, eyes bright and furious. Her headband had shifted, knocked crooked during the kiss, and a few curls had sprung free across her forehead.
He hoped the taunt would be enough to make her launch herself at him and finish what they had started. But her shocked expression turned into a scowl, and she turned away from him and walked down the alley toward the parking lot, leaving him hard and angry in the dark.