Page 107 of Lured By Shadows

But he gave me a silent nod and whispered, “Roo tends to yank me everywhere.”

Good to know.

As we moved through the maze of hallways, confusion built, the nagging sense creeping in that nothing here followed the usual rules. I’d assumed we’d head toward the garage, pile into something expensive, and go to a normal bar like normal people did.

But this was the Scarbrough estate, where everything twisted into something more layered and unexpected, and normal clearly did not apply.

We didn’t even step outside.

Rupert shoved open a set of wide double doors, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

The air smelled faintly of alcohol and lavender. Everything gleamed with a showroom perfection reserved for places no one was ever supposed to spill a drink in. A huge bar stretched across the right side of the room, expanding outward into seating arrangements of every kind, from chairs to booths to couches. The lighting was dim but warm, inviting in a way that made the entire space feel curated instead of lived in.

My jaw tightened as the familiar twist hit me, the kind of jealousy that sneaks up sharp and bitter.

That was just what rich people did without even thinking twice.

I huffed quietly, not at them exactly but at the ache inside me for not having that kind of life. The excess and ease they’d grown up with while everything I’d ever gotten came from hustling through compromises and hard work that left no room for the quiet luxury baked into places like this from the start.

Off to the side sat the bartender, backlit bottles gleaming like expensive candy behind glass. Rupert instantly veered in that direction, spinning as he went and launching into animated conversation with the bartender.

The rest of us drifted toward the other side, settling into a lounge area with high-backed chenille booths and polished tables that looked straight out of a magazine spread. Soroush hovered nearby, trying to appear unbothered, but his eyes flicked toward Rupert every few seconds like a habit he hadn’t quite broken.

“Would you like one as well, Ira?” Rupert called, raising a glass already adorned with a citrus twist. His brow arched theatrically.

I nodded fervently. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

He didn’t miss a beat, jogging back with the drink and presenting it like I was royalty.

“Taste test first, m' lady."

I snorted softly and leaned in to sip through the straw.

Before it touched my lips, a hand covered my mouth.

“Use a new one instead,” Culver murmured against my ear, low and possessive, not bothering to hide it.

My lips froze mid-pout as heat flooded up my neck in a rush that left me flustered. I was thinking about how he was getting territorial over a stupid straw, which would’ve made me laugh if it didn’t send a weird flip through my stomach that mixed annoyance with a hotter feeling. His instincts could veer into the ridiculous sometimes, but underneath that was a darker edge of protection and ownership tangled tightly together.

Rupert and Soroush both clocked the moment, amusement flickering between them like static.

I accepted the fresh straw Culver handed me, letting him slide it into the glass himself because apparently he needed full supervisory control.

“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered. “Perverted wolf.”

Then the drink hit my tongue, sweet citrus layered with something floral and sharp.

I hummed without thinking. That was a mistake.

Culver’s palm pressed against my stomach instantly, pulling me back against him hard enough to steal my breath. His body was cool and solid through our shirts, and I felt every inch of him.

“That also means no moaning in front of others,” he warned, his voice dragging across my nerves in gravel and silk.

His hand stayed there, fingers spreading slowly, circling over my abdomen like he was mapping every reaction, and suddenly my clothes felt like they might as well not be there at all. The thin fabric did nothing to dull the way my pulse hammered wild and fast beneath his touch.

I swallowed hard, barely keeping the drink steady.

“Seriously,” I hissed. “Possessive much?”