Chapter Six #3
Vynessa gives him a cheerful wave like he wasn’t completely rude and leads the way.
The scents inside the bar do nothing to ease my mind—the wet-dog scent of werewolves mingles with the earthy, cloyingly floral scent of fae.
There are other scents as well, ones that make me want to scoop Vynessa up and flee: mead, blood, herbal concoctions.
The moment Vynessa sets foot in the bar, several sets of eyes turn our way.
Fifty or more people have gathered in the place, and most of the males are eyeing our charge as if sizing her up for mating.
Her power will only grow stronger as her fire builds within, and it will attract more and more attention. I curse myself for allowing her to do this asinine thing.
Reaching out, I curl a hand around Vynessa’s hip and pull her into me.
Mine.
Her eyes go wide as she looks up at me. “True?”
I fold her into my side, glaring back with open menace at every set of curious eyes aimed in our direction. Only when the students in the tavern go back to their conversations, as if shaking off an odd flicker of recognition, do I relax my stance.
Quickly, I release her, and Vynessa stumbles back a step.
Turning on her heel, her gaze narrows on me. “You just made every guy in the place think I’m taken.”
“I don’t want to have to worry about you all night,” I mutter.
Her face is growing red, and I can tell she’s getting angrier by the moment. “I didn’t ask you to play big brother. I’m an adult woman and I can make my own decisions.”
She spins around and heads to the bar, and even though I want to keep pace with her, I can keep a better watch on the other patrons from here.
“Way to go,” Paxton says, clapping me on the shoulder. “She’s never going to trust you if you keep acting like a forked demon dick.”
“Just doing my job.”
“I don’t think forked demon dick is in your job description,” Paxton says. “But suit yourself. She already trusts me, so I don’t have to worry about it.”
With that, he follows her across the floor, sliding up to the bar beside her while I seethe in silence. I prop myself against a pillar close to the exit, keeping an eye on Vynessa and Paxton as they talk in their easy, familiar way.
I catch a flash of red hair in the corner of my eye and turn towards the stairs, but it’s just a guy in a small crowd on the dance floor.
When I turn back, Paxton has stepped away from the bar to talk to a table full of other women.
They’re somewhat familiar, perhaps from one of my courses. What the hell is he doing?
Three women on the dancefloor try to get my attention, but I quickly dismiss them. Paxton should do the same. Vynessa is our assignment. She’s our priority.
Her slender neck arches as she ducks her head, kicking her feet and winding a strand of silken hair around her finger. She looks so damn fragile. Soon, her strength will shine through. Until then, I intend to protect her with my life.
After a few minutes of watching Vynessa sitting there looking so small and alone, I can’t help myself.
I approach the bar. Before I reach it, a bearded guy takes the seat Paxton vacated beside her.
I can’t catch his scent among all the others in here, but my immediate guess is elven.
I pause, fighting the urge to step in. Vynessa doesn’t look scared.
She looks happy, her cheeks flushed with excitement as he speaks to her.
My hands ball into fists at my sides, but I force myself to take a step back, remembering her annoyance when I touched her hip without her permission.
A mug of ale appears before her, and she accepts it with a tap against the man’s mug. After a few minutes, the man sets his hand on her thigh. My fingers twitch, then ball into fists again as she pushes his hand off. He leans closer, as if to say something into her ear.
In seconds, my hand clamps around the back of his neck and yanks him off the chair.
“The fuck?” he roars like the hormone-fueled idiot he is.
“She’s not interested,” I growl.
As soon as I set the guy down, his fist winds back for a punch, and I know I have a choice—risk revealing myself by tearing the man’s arm off or take the punch.
He doesn’t even swing, though. The elf either smells what I am or sees the warning in my eyes because he drops his fist, shoots me a withering look, and skulks off, muttering, “Ogre’s asshole.”
Paxton has stepped up on Vynessa’s other side, abandoning his flirtations.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, sliding a hand under Vynessa’s elbow and helping her stand.
“Yeah. Okay.” She picks up her ale and downs it in a few gulps, leaving a faint line of foam above her upper lip.
I swallow, my eyes riveted on her mouth. Grabbing a clean cloth from the bar, I dab the foam away.
“Professor True?”
The voice comes from the table of girls Pax recently was so entranced by. Some of them are likely in my classes. Four girls look between Vynessa and me, their eyes brimming with interest.
Warning bells go off in my head.
I’m calling too much attention to Vynessa. I give the women a quick nod and lead Vynessa toward the door. Before we can leave, though, I hear a snatch of conversation.
“Damn, she gets all the hottest professors.”
“I wonder what her secret is.”
They would never guess her secret. Even she doesn’t.
As we walk along the street through the layer of steam hovering above the ground, I let myself enjoy the sensation of her soft fingers gripping my arm. She’s relying on me, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.