Chapter 8 The Dating Game #2
Then, as a way of replying to my request, he named a bottle, and shockingly, I recognized it.
My eyes widened instantly at the name of Macallan 30.
One whose name alone was enough to tell me it wasn’t just expensive, it was the kind of drink people bragged about ordering.
People who weren’t Wye, as I knew he wasn’t ordering it simply to impress me.
But because it was no doubt what he himself would have ordered.
“Please tell me that you did not just order a bottle worth over eight thousand dollars!” I said slowly as the waitress departed toward the bar. His brow lifted faintly as a smirk played at his distracting lips.
“Did you just forget who you are dating?” he teased again, and I let out a quiet laugh.
“A billionaire with a massive ego… nope, I didn’t forget.” Was my awesome comeback… awesome because it got me another one of those bursts of laughter I could easily get addicted to.
“Have you tried it before?” he asked, nodding to the bar and making me scoff again,
“On my salary?” I snorted softly.
“Not exactly.”
“Although I did help work on a campaign once for a whiskey company, so technically I had to do some research. Although not the type of research that sounds fun, like getting to sample the goods, but the boring kind that includes late nights with my laptop and coffee.” I admitted with a small smile, making him chuckle.
“You clearly enjoy what you do,” he stated, and I glanced up at him in surprise.
“Now we are definitely entering first date territory,” I teased, and his arms tightened slightly around me.
“You are still sitting in my lap,” he pointed out, as if wanting to remind me that this was actually far from a date. As if we had skipped right past casual dating and had headed straight into the serious relationship zone. A thought that certainly had me swallowing hard.
“If we are calling this a first date, then I believe we skipped several steps,” he said as if he could read my mind.
“Well, you're right…I mean, kidnapping usually happens after the third date when the stalker gets rejected.” I said playfully, and a low growl vibrated softly against the side of my neck after he pulled me closer.
“Behave,” he rumbled the word, and again, a total toe-curling moment.
Although the sound should have been intimidating.
Yet instead, it sent a soft, traitorous shiver through me.
One that I did my very best to pretend had absolutely nothing to do with the way his mouth had brushed dangerously close to my neck when he said it.
I shifted slightly on his lap, attempting to regain at least a fragment of composure.
Although, admittedly, that proved difficult when the solid warmth of him remained pressed firmly against me.
One of his arms was still draped comfortably around my waist, holding me there with an ease that suggested he had absolutely no intention of letting me move anytime soon.
Which, unfortunately, meant I was left with very little to distract myself from the situation other than the rest of the room.
So, my eyes wandered again.
At first, it was simply curiosity. A quiet attempt to remind myself that the club had resumed its usual rhythm after his rather dramatic announcement.
Demons were once again scattered throughout the VIP floor, conversations rising and falling beneath the slow pulse of the music as drinks were delivered and laughter drifted between the velvet booths.
Torin’s head turned slightly from across the floor, his expression tightening with what looked suspiciously like disbelief at the sight of his lord so at ease. I couldn’t help but slip my gaze back to the man I was currently using as a seat.
Up close, it was difficult not to notice things about Wye that were far too distracting for someone trying to maintain a sensible conversation.
The sharp line of his jaw. The way the low amber lighting of the club caught faintly in the pale silver flecks in his blue eyes.
The small curve of amusement that still lingered around his mouth, as though he was quietly enjoying my attempts to avoid the situation entirely.
Which was most likely why the second my attention went back to the people staring at us, he advised,
“Forget about them,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing slowly along the curve of my jaw in a gesture so gentle that it almost made my breath catch.
“Focus on me,” he said, which was an incredibly unfair request considering how difficult he already was to ignore. Still, I tried.
“Okay, so if we are truly pretending this is a first date, then you should probably ask me something about myself,” I said after a moment. I drew in a small breath as I attempted to remember what we had been talking about before I had started people watching.
“Should I?”
“That is usually how these things work.” His head tilted slightly as though considering the idea.
“Very well,” he replied before his gaze moved slowly across my face, studying me with a quiet intensity that made my pulse behave very strangely.
“Tell me something about yourself that I would not expect.” I had to laugh at that and pointed out,
“That is a dangerously vague question.”
“Then allow me to narrow it.” His fingers drifted lightly along my arm again, the backs of them tracing idle patterns against my skin that were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
“You said earlier that you worked on a campaign for whiskey.”
“I did,” I said with a nod.
“It was clear to me after only a few minutes that you clearly love what you do, so my question is, why?”
“Why do I love my work?” I asked, and he nodded before elaborating,
“Why advertising?” I thought about it for a moment before telling him,
“Truthfully… I have always been good at convincing people to buy things.” He laughed at that before prompting me for more.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, Hell I even won a school competition once because of it,” I said, a small laugh slipping out as an old memory surfaced.
“A competition for selling things?”
“For selling cookies,” I clarified with a small shrug.
“It was one of those school fundraising things. Whoever sold the most won a prize.” His eyes softened at this, as if he could see it for himself.
“And you won.” It wasn’t a question, but regardless, I freely admitted,
“By a terrifying margin.” A quiet chuckle escaped him.
“I suspect you were rather adorable,” Wye murmured thoughtfully, and I glanced up at him with mock offence.
“You don’t think I am adorable now?” I teased, and even as I said it, I lifted my hand slightly, wiggling my fingers in a ridiculous imitation of tiny frog legs.
“Even with my frog collection?” The groan that escaped him was low and dramatic.
“You are making this incredibly difficult.” At that, I pulled back in surprise, about to ask him what he meant when he offered it before I could.
“To sit here and not want to ravish you,” he finished under his breath, and heat instantly rushed to my face.
“Well…” I said, pausing to swallow hard,
“…you’re not exactly making it easy for me to pretend this is a normal first date either.” His eyes darkened slightly with amusement.
“Perhaps that is because it is not.” At that moment the waitress returned, the expensive bottle of whiskey now resting carefully on her tray beside two crystal glasses filled with ice.
Wye poured the drinks himself, and the liquid caught the low light of the club as it settled into the glasses, amber and rich as he handed one to me.
I lifted it cautiously and gave the glass a small swirl, the rich aroma drifting up to meet me.
The scent alone was enough to make my eyes widen slightly.
He then watched me carefully as I took my first sip.
“Oh, wow,” I moaned as the taste was so smooth and in a way that nearly made my eyes roll back into my head.
“That right there is possibly the nicest thing I have ever tasted,” I breathed softly, lowering the glass slightly as warmth spread slowly down my throat, and for a moment, he simply watched me.
Then he set his own glass aside, one hand sliding lightly beneath my chin as he turned my face toward him.
Then, before I knew what was happening, he kissed me, only this time it was slower and more sensual. Warmer even. As though he were savoring the moment just as much as the whiskey.
When he finally pulled back, the faintest smirk curved his mouth.
“I must agree,” he hummed, and I swear I felt drunk from that alone. To the point that when he asked me a question, I had to get him to repeat it,
“Huh?” His grin was devious and disarming as he licked his lips before repeating the question,
“Why whiskey?” The memory rose easily, and I was forced to concentrate on something other than the feel of him still on my lips.
“My mother,” I said quietly.
“It was always her drink of choice for special occasions.” I rolled the glass gently between my fingers, watching the amber liquid catch the light.
“Although a single bottle would last her years,” I continued softly.
“But whenever something good happened, she would pour herself a glass and toast to it.”
“Like what?” he asked, as if he truly wanted to know and wasn’t just making polite conversation.
“To us,” I told him with a smile.
“To you and your sibling?” he asked, as he must have gathered with me, saying to us that I wasn’t an only child. So, I decided to trust him enough to reveal that part of my life.
“To me and my sister.”
“I gather she didn’t give you whiskey as a child, as I may not be mortal, but I do have enough understanding that giving alcohol to a child isn’t wise.” I laughed at that.
“No, the whiskey was for her, as we usually got a giant bowl of ice cream.” A quiet sound escaped him then. Not quite a laugh, but more like a thoughtful hum. I glanced up at him, suddenly unsure whether I had imagined the note of approval hidden in it.
Which was when my brain chose the absolute worst possible moment to ask the question that had been lurking there for several minutes.
“Can demons have children?”
The silence that followed was immediate. That was before Wye, then choked slightly on his whiskey. As for me, my eyes widened in horror.
“Oh my Goddess,” I groaned, covering my face with one hand.
“Please pretend I did not just ask that.” I could feel the laughter building in his chest behind me.
“I mean not that I want children right now, I mean maybe someday, but not like today or tomorrow or…” I rushed to clarify, words tumbling over themselves in a mortifying attempt to recover the situation. Of course, his laughter didn’t help.
“Please shut me up,” I groaned with a shake of my head, something he stopped when he framed my face with both hands and said,
“If you insist.” Then he kissed me again, and all thoughts of my blunder slipped away with the taste of whiskey and this Demonic God at my back.
When I finally pulled back several seconds later, my cheeks were burning, and not from what I had said. Although I still felt the need to say,
“Definitely not first date conversation.”
His laughter this time was warm and completely unapologetic.
“Perhaps tenth.”
“Definitely tenth,” I agreed weakly with a smile. Despite the fact that we were still sitting on a throne in the middle of a demon nightclub, with half the room quietly watching us, I realized something. Something that made my chest feel strangely light.
That for the first time since this entire insane situation had begun…
I was actually enjoying myself.