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He cringed as his hands pressed into a sticky substance on the table’s surface, but instead of sliding in opposite Ava, he took the seat beside her. His actions instantly earned him a scowl.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“My job,” came his muttered reply. “I can see the entire bar better from here. And since I’m your fake boyfriend tonight, I should probably do this.”
Lowering his face, he pressed his lips in the sensitive curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. The she-wolf’s sudden intake of breath meant he’d hit the right spot. Slowly, his mouth trailed a path up the slender column of her neck like a lover, barely resisting the urge to sink his teeth into the tender flesh.
When her hand came up and gingerly cradled the side of his face, encouraging him, Remmus didn’t know who was more shocked: her or him.
Telepathically, he asked her one question: Are you playing along, Ava, or have I turned you to the dark side?
A pinch on his leg was her only reply. While the majority of wolves could receive telepathic communication, not all of them could respond. Whether or not Ava was able to still remained a question.
I’ll take that as an actress in her element.
Though his mouth continued worshipping her skin, Remmus’ telepathy burst outward to take a psychic sweep of every person in the bar. What he found wasn’t surprising. Several drunkards were present, one sleeping off a bender in the booth next to them, and two slightly intoxicated patrons playing pool. The handful of regulars were too consumed by their own pain to have even noticed their display.
With his history, it’d been a wonder Remmus hadn’t ended up in a similar state. Jolting out of the wayward thought, he placed one more kiss on the base of Ava’s neck and straightened beside her.
“Thanks Blondie.” Then, quieter, he said, “Our guy is playing pool in the corner. Shall we go over and introduce ourselves?”
She nodded, and they soundlessly sidled out of the booth. Grabbing a beer for himself and the cocktail Ava ordered, they waltzed toward the pool tables.
That’s when Ava turned on the charm. Within five minutes, the two human men playing pool were left drooling over her like a dog with a bone. Orren Johansen, their mark, was a single forty-something who needed a good shave and an entirely new wardrobe. He reeked of bad breath and unfulfilled dreams.
After concentrating on his psychic signature, Remmus heard every thought that came into Orren’s mind. Human psychic shields were paper thin, easily moved aside for reconnaissance purposes and replaced upon retreat.
Like many men faced with a stunning woman, Orren’s lust-filled fantasies were creepily obvious and focused on Ava.
Teeth grating together, Remmus barely tempered the growing fury within his blood. When his nails began to bite into his palm, he had to consciously uncurl his fingers to steady the cue. Focusing on something different, he let his competitive nature come out to play: he sunk every ball.
With a smug grin, he looked up from his victory to find Orren’s paws all over Ava. One hand rested on her hip while he stole into her personal space as though they were the greatest of friends. They were deep in conversation, and Ava looked eagerly enthralled by whatever story the male was spinning.
All Remmus could think was mine.
Every instinct roared to life, compelling him to close the distance between them and yank the wayward human off her. Protective jealousy swarmed him in such potency it threatened to suffocate him, and he instantly lost his concentration on maintaining his tap into Orren’s thoughts.
His escalating temper must’ve shown on his face because as soon as Ava locked eyes with him, she emitted a very clear warning: stay away.
It snapped him out of whatever rage he’d fallen into. Sharpening chalk on the end of the pool cue, he let Ava continue her play. Remmus had no idea where his wrath had come from, or why he had nearly been incited to violence.
A jeer from the other player had his attention refocusing on a new game, and he lost himself in the opening break and resulting ball placement.
It took conscious effort not to look in Ava’s direction. For the remaining ten minutes she lingered with Orren in a dark corner, he refused to cave. Remmus made small talk with the other pool player and commented idly about the weather and which beer he preferred.
When Ava’s delicious citrus scent wafted toward him mixed with the not-at-all-subtle hints of Orren’s stench, he nearly broke the pool cue. He stiffened as the impulse seared through his veins and tried to rein in his temper.
“Let’s go, my love,” came Ava’s sultry voice. “I’m tired and my feet hurt.”
Remmus didn’t take any further prompting. Though he knew she was neither of those things, he couldn’t shake the odd feelings of territoriality that’d settled over him.
His hand locked around hers and then he all but dragged her to the exit. Once they were out of eyesight, he turned on her and swathed her in his arms, teleporting them both back to the den.
Dizziness made dots appear on the edges of his vision as they manifested, but he shook his head to clear it. Regardless of their safety within pack territory, when their feet met solid ground, he didn’t let her go. She didn’t glance up to confirm her surroundings and remained focused on him.
“He had his hands all over you.”
“I know.”
