Calhoun schmoozed again with his adoring audience. Hidden back in the reading room, John took his time packing his gear up. He’d briefly considered playing background while Calhoun signed his masterpiece and people stuffed canapés into their mouths, but Bev hadn’t asked him to, and he didn’t want to lock himself into staying very long. He’d done what had been asked of him. He wanted out as soon as was seemly.
“You sounded great.”
At Katrynn’s voice, John, who’d been crouching at his hard case, taking a lot longer to pack up his Alvarez than was necessary, turned and stood up.
She wore another turtleneck dress, with another pair of tall, low-heeled boots, these in tan. The dress was maroon and hugged her body everywhere. She had a nice body: smallish tits, but high and round, and a sleek sweep of hips and ass. The clingy fabric did good things. The neck was very high, all the way to her jaw. He thought he saw some discoloration there, but it was probably a trick of the light and shadow with the color of her dress.
“Hey. Thanks.”
With a sharp little nod and a tight smile, she made to turn and leave.
“Katrynn, wait. Please.”
She stopped. After a moment’s hesitation, she faced him again. “John, just don’t.”
“I feel terrible. I won’t bug you. I just want to apologize.”
As she had last night, she reacted to that statement by going cold. “You did that last night.”
“And you didn’t accept it.” She was talking to him, so he took the risk and closed part of the distance between them.
“Is that what you want? Fine. I accept your apology.”
“I don’t care about the words. I’d like to know that you believe that I would never mean to hurt you. I was still half-drunk and not thinking clearly.”
She scoffed bitterly.
Again, John wondered if he’d done something even worse. He had her here, and she hadn’t turned on her heel again yet, so he asked. He couldn’t think what he had to lose. “Bailing on you like that was wicked shitty, I know. But did I do anything else? Worse?”
Some kind of understanding dawned on her face, and it was not pleasant to watch. He had done something worse. Jesus. What?
“You don’t remember the night.”
He tried out a sheepish grin and took another step toward her. “No. I’m sorry. I drowned my sorrows really well.”
“Oh my God. Oh, my God.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Jesus GOD, what had he done? He took another step, until he was nearly toe-to-toe with her. “Fuck, Katrynn. What did I do to you?”
As he asked, he reached out, without a clear intention to do so, but feeling a need to offer her comfort. She jerked her head away before he could touch her.
The movement separated the top of her turtleneck from the line of her jaw, and John saw that her neck was badly bruised. All of the skin she’d exposed was an angry, dark puce.
He knew that Calhoun had done that. He just knew it. It looked like the bastard had choked her.
He reached again, and as he formed the words to ask what had happened, Katrynn skittered backward, and then Calhoun was there. He put his arm around her waist and gave John that smug glare, like he was affecting anger but not really feeling it.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” Calhoun asked, his tone heavy with challenge.
John punched him in the face.
Calhoun stumbled back, then pushed Katrynn aside and jumped at John.
They were in the Reading Room, which wasn’t exactly spacious, so it took a while for anybody to get to them and pull them apart. By the time Luca had John, and Theo had Calhoun, they had torn the hell out of the room and each other.
Not to mention the party.
John was quite a bit taller, but he was lean. Calhoun was broader—and he wore rings; John didn’t. John definitely got the worst of the fight. But as Luca shoved him to the wall, he was pleased to
“You sounded great.”
At Katrynn’s voice, John, who’d been crouching at his hard case, taking a lot longer to pack up his Alvarez than was necessary, turned and stood up.
She wore another turtleneck dress, with another pair of tall, low-heeled boots, these in tan. The dress was maroon and hugged her body everywhere. She had a nice body: smallish tits, but high and round, and a sleek sweep of hips and ass. The clingy fabric did good things. The neck was very high, all the way to her jaw. He thought he saw some discoloration there, but it was probably a trick of the light and shadow with the color of her dress.
“Hey. Thanks.”
With a sharp little nod and a tight smile, she made to turn and leave.
“Katrynn, wait. Please.”
She stopped. After a moment’s hesitation, she faced him again. “John, just don’t.”
“I feel terrible. I won’t bug you. I just want to apologize.”
As she had last night, she reacted to that statement by going cold. “You did that last night.”
“And you didn’t accept it.” She was talking to him, so he took the risk and closed part of the distance between them.
“Is that what you want? Fine. I accept your apology.”
“I don’t care about the words. I’d like to know that you believe that I would never mean to hurt you. I was still half-drunk and not thinking clearly.”
She scoffed bitterly.
Again, John wondered if he’d done something even worse. He had her here, and she hadn’t turned on her heel again yet, so he asked. He couldn’t think what he had to lose. “Bailing on you like that was wicked shitty, I know. But did I do anything else? Worse?”
Some kind of understanding dawned on her face, and it was not pleasant to watch. He had done something worse. Jesus. What?
“You don’t remember the night.”
He tried out a sheepish grin and took another step toward her. “No. I’m sorry. I drowned my sorrows really well.”
“Oh my God. Oh, my God.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Jesus GOD, what had he done? He took another step, until he was nearly toe-to-toe with her. “Fuck, Katrynn. What did I do to you?”
As he asked, he reached out, without a clear intention to do so, but feeling a need to offer her comfort. She jerked her head away before he could touch her.
The movement separated the top of her turtleneck from the line of her jaw, and John saw that her neck was badly bruised. All of the skin she’d exposed was an angry, dark puce.
He knew that Calhoun had done that. He just knew it. It looked like the bastard had choked her.
He reached again, and as he formed the words to ask what had happened, Katrynn skittered backward, and then Calhoun was there. He put his arm around her waist and gave John that smug glare, like he was affecting anger but not really feeling it.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” Calhoun asked, his tone heavy with challenge.
John punched him in the face.
Calhoun stumbled back, then pushed Katrynn aside and jumped at John.
They were in the Reading Room, which wasn’t exactly spacious, so it took a while for anybody to get to them and pull them apart. By the time Luca had John, and Theo had Calhoun, they had torn the hell out of the room and each other.
Not to mention the party.
John was quite a bit taller, but he was lean. Calhoun was broader—and he wore rings; John didn’t. John definitely got the worst of the fight. But as Luca shoved him to the wall, he was pleased to
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