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Banner’s expression was stiff, and I couldn’t tell if his irritation was on his Omega’s behalf or if he found my continued freedom an insult too.
Probably the latter, the loyalist fuck.
I stepped past him, guiding Thistle with me.
“Oh.” I glanced back, unable to help myself. “And while you’re at it, remind her that ‘fortune’is a matter of perspective.”
SIXTEEN
KNOX
We stepped into cool night air to the well-kept, private garden outside the quiet west wing of the property. No one else would be out here, and the sky above was clear, scattered with a million stars.
I led Thistle around to the gardens that surrounded the north wing—and far from the sight and sound of guests. By the time we were there, I’d spotted her nervous glances in my direction several times, and when I finally caught her eye, she looked away quickly.
Still, I swear there had been something glinting in those violet irises, the feral creature she had such a hard time wrangling.
Something about the interaction with Banner had thrown her again tonight.
Because I’d stopped him touching her? Or was it simply the statement of claim?
I’d never get it out of her, of that, I was sure—not directly, anyway.
As we stepped past the outdoor bar lit with warm lanterns, I lifted my hand from her waist, curling it around the chain and holding it taut enough that she would feel it.
Again, she glanced at me.
I drew us to a halt, cocking my head and twisting the chain in my fist until my hand was right beside her neck. Then I tugged her back a step toward the broad pillar behind, chain and hand pressed against the cool stone, holding her there with ease.
Her gaze dropped again, chest rising and falling too fast as I stepped closer, my free palm caging her in.
“Everyone in that room knew who you belonged to,” I breathed. “Every Alpha in there.”
There it was again, the curious little glance. Reluctant interest as I tapped on the epicentre of what confused her instincts tonight.
“Did you like it? Being mine?” I asked. “Knowing I might slit the throat of any Alpha that tried to contest that.”
Finally, she lifted her chin, pout bravely fronting denial that her wounded eyes gave away. I didn’t give her room for more brattiness, though, cupping her chin as I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers, catching her little exhale of surprise like a golden trophy.
A kiss didn’t feel like enough.
A low rumble sounded from deep in my chest. She didn’t fight me, didn’t try to pull away or close her lips.
Instead, she melted, a low, desperate whine in her chest as I drove my tongue into her mouth, and my wild instincts shuttered violently with every second of this claim before I finally drew back.
She was breathless, eyes wide, as I flashed her a smile and tugged her toward the bench beside us, happy to have her on my lap again.
There was a long silence, and she seemed to be scrambling to pick up her scattered sanity.
“You um… He… mentioned Ace. You haven’t asked about him,” she managed at last.
I grinned at her change of topic, wondering how hard it had been to dig up the last question she’d been intending to ask. She still looked dazed.
“No,” I said. “I don’t really give a flying fuck about Maverick.”
“Oh.” She almost looked affronted.
“Well…” I considered that. “Notentirelytrue. Idowonder how he managed your bratty little ass when it came to events like this. How do my rules compare to his?”
