people gave him a wide berth.
Except her.
He looked across the room again and found her watching him. She never looked away, or backed down from his stare, and it was one of the things that intrigued him—and turned him on.
His cock swelled in the confines of his jeans, and pressed uncomfortably against the teeth of his zipper. Luckily, the bar hid his arousal, but his reaction toward her pissed him off. He narrowed his eyes and directed all of his anger toward her, yet she still didn’t turn away.
He hated to admit it, but he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone, and when another male approached her, breaking their connection, he wanted blood.
The only thing that stopped him from crossing the room, throwing her over his shoulder, and carrying her home was the sound of his other boss, Michelle, placing her tray down on the counter at the waitress’ station. He gave her his full attention as she rattled off drink orders, and then he put all of his energy into making them.
A few minutes later, he set the last drink on the tray and glanced across the room again.
Two of her friends had boyfriends, but the singles had picked up men, and all four couples filled the booth. She stood next to the table, smiling and laughing with the group, but irrational rage swamped him. How dare they cast her aside…
Pain sliced through his hand, and he realized Isabelle was calling him.
“What?” he barked.
“Let go of the glass,” she said, holding out a trash can. “Do you need a first aid kit?”
He looked down to see he’d shattered a beer bottle in his hand.
What the hell?
“That’s it,” Isabelle said, whispering loud enough for only him to hear. She turned on the faucet and shoved his hand under the cool water. “You totally fucked up Michelle’s orders, and you’ve just shattered a bottle without even realizing it. Either go talk to that girl or go home, but get the hell out from behind this bar before you do any more damage—and don’t you dare pick a fight on your way out.”
He glared at her, but she remained unfazed as she shoved a clean, dry towel into his hand.
“Go ahead and glare all you want to,” she said, pushing him out of the way. “You know I could care less.”
It was true. Izzy and Gabe had accepted him from day one, and they never took any of his crap. Even though he’d gone out of his way to keep his distance over the years, the pair of cousins was the closest thing to family he’d had since his parents kicked him out.
Isabelle cleared Michelle’s tray and remade the ruined drinks while he stood there with the now bloody towel in his hand. Luckily, shifters healed a lot faster than humans, and they rarely needed to seek medical help. None of the glass had embedded into his skin, and he could feel most of the cuts closing. In a few minutes, he’d be as good as new.
He looked down the counter, anxious to see the witnesses to his uncharacteristic behavior, but he was pleasantly surprised. While a few people watched him with rapt attention, most were too wrapped up in their own business to worry about what went on behind the bar.
If fighting wasn’t an option, then he wanted to do the next best thing, and he wanted to do it with the curvy blond. A night, or two, or three, with her under him would definitely get her out of his system, and then he could go back to normal.
Or as close to normal as he could get with his own fucked up version of reality.
He threw the towel in the wastebasket and made a beeline for the booth.
***
One week earlier…
“We’re going to take off. Do you want us to walk you out?”
Leah Ashbrook turned toward her friend Meg, and smiled. The woman was holding hands with the hot shifter she’d danced with for most of the night, and judging from the look on Meg’s face, the couple was ready for some alone time.
“You guys go ahead,” Leah said. “I’m going to use the bathroom first.”
Meg’s smile grew, and she leaned in
Except her.
He looked across the room again and found her watching him. She never looked away, or backed down from his stare, and it was one of the things that intrigued him—and turned him on.
His cock swelled in the confines of his jeans, and pressed uncomfortably against the teeth of his zipper. Luckily, the bar hid his arousal, but his reaction toward her pissed him off. He narrowed his eyes and directed all of his anger toward her, yet she still didn’t turn away.
He hated to admit it, but he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone, and when another male approached her, breaking their connection, he wanted blood.
The only thing that stopped him from crossing the room, throwing her over his shoulder, and carrying her home was the sound of his other boss, Michelle, placing her tray down on the counter at the waitress’ station. He gave her his full attention as she rattled off drink orders, and then he put all of his energy into making them.
A few minutes later, he set the last drink on the tray and glanced across the room again.
Two of her friends had boyfriends, but the singles had picked up men, and all four couples filled the booth. She stood next to the table, smiling and laughing with the group, but irrational rage swamped him. How dare they cast her aside…
Pain sliced through his hand, and he realized Isabelle was calling him.
“What?” he barked.
“Let go of the glass,” she said, holding out a trash can. “Do you need a first aid kit?”
He looked down to see he’d shattered a beer bottle in his hand.
What the hell?
“That’s it,” Isabelle said, whispering loud enough for only him to hear. She turned on the faucet and shoved his hand under the cool water. “You totally fucked up Michelle’s orders, and you’ve just shattered a bottle without even realizing it. Either go talk to that girl or go home, but get the hell out from behind this bar before you do any more damage—and don’t you dare pick a fight on your way out.”
He glared at her, but she remained unfazed as she shoved a clean, dry towel into his hand.
“Go ahead and glare all you want to,” she said, pushing him out of the way. “You know I could care less.”
It was true. Izzy and Gabe had accepted him from day one, and they never took any of his crap. Even though he’d gone out of his way to keep his distance over the years, the pair of cousins was the closest thing to family he’d had since his parents kicked him out.
Isabelle cleared Michelle’s tray and remade the ruined drinks while he stood there with the now bloody towel in his hand. Luckily, shifters healed a lot faster than humans, and they rarely needed to seek medical help. None of the glass had embedded into his skin, and he could feel most of the cuts closing. In a few minutes, he’d be as good as new.
He looked down the counter, anxious to see the witnesses to his uncharacteristic behavior, but he was pleasantly surprised. While a few people watched him with rapt attention, most were too wrapped up in their own business to worry about what went on behind the bar.
If fighting wasn’t an option, then he wanted to do the next best thing, and he wanted to do it with the curvy blond. A night, or two, or three, with her under him would definitely get her out of his system, and then he could go back to normal.
Or as close to normal as he could get with his own fucked up version of reality.
He threw the towel in the wastebasket and made a beeline for the booth.
***
One week earlier…
“We’re going to take off. Do you want us to walk you out?”
Leah Ashbrook turned toward her friend Meg, and smiled. The woman was holding hands with the hot shifter she’d danced with for most of the night, and judging from the look on Meg’s face, the couple was ready for some alone time.
“You guys go ahead,” Leah said. “I’m going to use the bathroom first.”
Meg’s smile grew, and she leaned in
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