by Jessica Sims
We returned to my apartment. While Hugh sniffed out and examined every inch of the place for whiffs of fae, I changed into my slinky dress and fixed my hair and makeup. I lined my eyes with dark blue liner so it’d make my irises seem almost purple. I slicked my lips with a peachy gloss that made them plumper, curled my hair into big movie-star ringlets, then finger-tousled them until they formed a gorgeous mess of blond waves. My shoes were a pair of pink sparkly heels with peep toes.
I looked amazing. Suck on that, Hugh.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Hugh stopped at the sight of me. He stared for so long and so hard at my slinky white dress that my nipples got tight, and I felt my pulse begin to pound between my legs once more.
Silence fell between us.
After a long moment, Hugh swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Your dress. It is revealing.”
“It is,” I said proudly, deliberately running my hands down the curves of my ass. “I plan on having fun tonight.”
“You should change. You cannot leave this public bed wearing that.”
“Do not even start that with me. I can wear what I want.” I flicked an imaginary piece of lint off my sleeve. “And tonight, I want to look incredibly sexy.”
“Ryder . . .” He swallowed again and shifted on his feet. I noticed his hand went to his thigh, and then he adjusted himself, oh-so-discreetly. “Men will want to touch you.”
I gave him an innocent smile. “Well, that is what you’re going to be there for, right? You’re bodyguarding me. And these people are friends. No one’s going to touch me.” I patted the slinky fabric of my dress. “And if they do, I’ll make sure it’s on one of the covered sections, deal?”
I practically heard him grinding his teeth. “I do not approve of this,” he told me after a long moment.
“Then call your boss and tell him you can’t handle me,” I said, grabbing my purse and slinging it over my shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be totally understanding.” I ignored Hugh’s glare as I pulled out my keys. I had him right where I wanted him. He couldn’t call on Finian without risking being removed as my keeper and losing the chance of getting mates for himself and his men.
When he remained silent, I grinned, knowing I’d won that round. “That’s what I thought. Now come on. We’ll be late.”
“A toast,” Beau said, raising his glass of champagne and grinning down at the long table full of shifters. “To my brother, Joshua, and the only woman willing to put up with his shit full-time.”
“Hear, hear,” Everett Russell said with a grin, raising his glass. Two dozen other people raised their glasses into the air, myself included, and we catcalled and hollered our approval as a laughing Josh Russell pulled Marie into his lap and kissed her again.
At my side, Austin Russell put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly.
Tiger’s Tail was a small family restaurant in Little Paradise. Most people would uncharitably call it a hole-in-the-wall, but since it was shifter owned, people were much more polite and forgiving of scuffed tables and chipped dinnerware. The food was good—barbeque—and perfect for a crowd of shifters. Marie and Josh had rented the place out for the evening, and the room was filled with friends and clients from the Midnight Liaisons service.
At the head of one table, Beau Russell, leader of the Alliance and Marie’s new boss, sat with his wife, Bathsheba, at his side. The next table over, Ramsey Bjorn sat with his mate, Sara, in his lap. She was clearly already drunk as a skunk, and it looked like she was doing her best to tickle him. Sara could not hold her alcohol, I thought wryly. Nearby and watching their antics stood Everett Russell and two of the local werewolf alphas, Alice and Jackson, who had recently mated. At another table was a heavily pregnant were-tiger woman I didn’t know, seated next to her mate, Vic, the tiger alpha. She was drinking water, of course, and it made me think of Savannah, the other pregnant woman I knew, who’d opted to cover at work tonight so the rest of us could hang out and party.
A weird assortment of people sat at my table. There was an old lady who I was pretty sure wasn’t a shifter, and she was seated at the head of our table. Josh came by frequently to dote on her, and she seemed thrilled they were getting married. Also at our table were Marie’s dad and his girlfriend, both clearly human. Hugh sat on one side of me, and Austin Russell sat on my other side. The rest of the room was made up of a variety of shifters—from Jeremiah Russell, who’d shown up with his boyfriend and his girlfriend, to a few vampires, who were steering clear of the humans, and the occasional werewolf.
It was an eclectic mix, but a fun one. The room had been decorated in honor of Marie and Josh’s engagement. The normal checkered picniclike restaurant tablecloths had been removed for simpler, white tablecloths, and colorful streamers and balloons lined the walls. A CONGRATULATIONS JOSH AND MARIE-PIERRE banner hung from the ceiling, and Marie had groaned at the sight of it, shaking her finger at Josh as if he’d done something naughty. Everyone was laughing and talking, pigging out on barbeque, and drinking like fish. There was a small dance floor and an old-fashioned jukebox, and it played rollicking country song after country song.
Even Hugh seemed to be having a good time. He ate platefuls of barbeque and chatted with Marie’s dad. If the man thought there was something odd about Hugh’s manners or speech (or general lack of knowledge about most modern things), he was far too polite to bring it up.
I was having a good time, too. The champagne was flowing, and the bar was an open one, so I had a mixed drink in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. I was getting good and toasty.
Marie was gorgeous tonight. Her black curly hair had been groomed into a fashionable hairstyle. She wasn’t as pale as she’d been a few short months ago, and her skin was glowing with health. She’d put on a few pounds, too, and was no longer frighteningly skinny. Her red, strapless, body-hugging dress showed off her new curves, and Josh couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d been a playboy in his past, but now he had eyes only for Marie, and he looked as content as she was.
It made me so, so very happy for my friend. She deserved her joy. I glanced over at Sara and Ramsey, who were still having their mock-tickle fight, though Sara was clearly winning. Ramsey’s face was flushed red, but I noticed he wasn’t fighting very hard, and Sara was squirming all over him, giddy. My gaze slid to Beau and Bathsheba, who had their heads together and were talking quietly to each other. Beau’s eyes gleamed as he looked at his mate, and I felt a swift pang of misery.
Everyone was pairing up. It seemed that I was the only one who couldn’t find a happy ever after. Well, me and Savannah, who was about to pursue single motherhood.
At least Austin Russell was at my side and determined to flirt with me.
I’d brought a date to the party, which had put Austin off initially, but when Hugh and I weren’t that attentive to each other, the drunker Austin got, the more interested he got. And the drunker I got, the more flirty I got. I’d lean in close and flash him my cleavage. I laughed at all his jokes—even the awful ones—and scooted my chair closer to his. When he leaned in to whisper to me, I ignored Hugh’s frowns and acted as if Austin’s drunk rambling had been the funniest thing ever. Actually, I liked Austin a lot, but mostly as a friend. But when he slid an arm over the back of my chair and pulled me a bit closer, that made Hugh stiffen with anger, his frown turning into a black scowl.
Hugh’s pissiness only made me feel better. At least someone found me irresistible. So I encouraged Austin. Winked at him, flirted, took every drink that was offered to me, and basically had fun.
Pretty soon, I was in a drunken fog. I normally didn’t drink to excess (unless it was coffee), but the party was lively and the waitress kept refilling my cup, so I couldn’t resist drinking away my sorrows. Tomorrow might suck, but tonight? Tonight would be fun. “Hey, Ryder,” Austin said in my ear. “You wanna dance?”
I peered past him to the dance
floor. It was currently empty. “We gonna be the only ones?”
“We might,” he said, grinning at me. “That going to bother you?”
“Nope.” I got to my feet and wobbled.
Immediately, Austin’s hands went to my waist to steady me. At the same time, Hugh got up from his chair, and I heard the low growl in his throat.
“Get your hands off her,” Hugh told Austin.
I turned and frowned at Hugh. “Don’t tell him what to do.”
“I’m here to—” Hugh began, then frowned, as if remembering our pact. “I’m your date,” he said flatly.
I shook my head at him, then wondered why it made the room spin. “Austin asked me to dance,” I told Hugh. “I’m going to dance with him and you can’t stop me.”
Hugh just glared at me.
I turned and looked at Austin, who offered me his hand and a smile. My palm itched, and I desperately wanted to slap my hand into his, but I knew that was bad news. So I gestured for Austin to turn around, and when he did, I looped my arms around his neck. “Piggyback ride,” I declared.
“You’re a weird girl,” he said with a chuckle, but he dragged me out onto the dance floor, leaning forward and walking as if I’d just been a heavy sort of backpack.
As soon as we got onto the small wooden dance floor, the music changed to a slow song. Again Austin offered me his hand, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and pushed my body against his so we wouldn’t have to touch skin to skin. I tucked my head against his shoulder as we swayed, and I stared out at the audience. Everyone was laughing and drinking and having a great time. Everyone except Hugh, who stared at me with intently burning eyes, his entire posture on alert as I danced with Austin.
Sadness and guilt hit me as I saw Hugh’s stiff, unhappy face. I didn’t want to be dancing with Austin. I wanted to be in Hugh’s arms. I wanted to be his girl. His mate. But he was planning on delivering me to the enemy and ruining my life. I sighed, feeling ridiculously close to crying. Why was life so unfair?
Austin’s hands slid down my back and landed on my ass.
I saw Hugh get up, nearly flipping the table over in his haste, and the alarmed looks the other guests shot him. Marie glanced over at me and gave me a worried look, even as I pushed out of Austin’s arms.
Hugh stormed over to us, and he looked ready to attack Austin, who was still clinging to me drunkenly. “Get your hands off her,” Hugh demanded as he came to my side. The primordial shifter pulled me behind him, baring his teeth, and all I saw in my drink-fogged mind were flashing cat-eyes and enormous fangs.
Neither one seemed to put Austin off. He simply gave Hugh a tipsy smile and raised his hands in the air, backing off. “You wanted to cut in, all you had to do was ask.”
“Cut . . . in?”
“He means you wanted to dance with me,” I yelled back at Hugh helpfully over the music.
He winced at my loud voice, then looked me over. He nodded. “I will dance with you, Ryder.”
Austin gave me a wink and headed back to the bar, leaving me on the dance floor with Hugh. He looked at me expectantly, so I sighed and lifted my arms to put around his neck, pressing my body to his.
Even in my drunken state, I knew that was a mistake. Hugh’s big body was warm and familiar against mine, and I had to strain—even in my heels—to keep my joined hands from touching the warm skin of his neck. It also pushed my face close to the juncture of his collar, and I smelled his wonderful, masculine Hugh smell. His hands went to my waist and he held me against him, and then we began to sway, awkwardly, to the music.
I felt small and dainty and feminine in his arms. Normal. And the way he felt against me was something downright heavenly. My body reacted, my senses humming and my monster coming awake, though not quite emerging, since I was careful not to touch Hugh’s skin.
His big hand stroked my back, up and down, as we moved to the song in small, shuffling steps. Being in Hugh’s arms? It felt like home. Like I belonged here.
He leaned in and I heard the murmur of his voice over the music. “You should not let other men touch you like this, Ryder.”
Other men? “Because you want to be the only one?” I asked, whispering.
He hesitated for a long, long moment. Then he said, “No one should touch you like this.”
I pushed at his chest, suddenly wanting to be free of his arms. “So it’s not that you wanted to be with me, is it? It’s not that you wanted to dance with me. You just didn’t want anyone else to do it.” My words were drunkenly slurred, and the room weaved. God, I was so drunk. How had I gotten so drunk so fast? I’d never been this plastered.
Hugh frowned at me but said nothing. Instead, he reached for me again.
I shoved his arms away. “No, you know what? You don’t get to touch me. Not unless you want to touch me because you want to, not because you think you need to guard me. That’s crap and you know it.”
“That is my job, Ryder.” His voice was low, his face pained.
“Fuck you and your job,” I said, stumbling past him. There was a bathroom nearby, and I wanted to splash water on my face. That sounded really good to my drunk brain right about now.
When I stumbled past Hugh, he reached for me again, to steady me. I slapped his hands away and stomp-stumbled to the bathroom.
He followed me.
I paused outside the door and pointed at the plaque that said WOMEN. “This means I’m going in here to use the bathroom and you can’t follow me in, understand? Now go fuck off.” And I stormed in before he could argue.
The door swung shut, and I watched it for a long moment, in a mental fog. Part of me expected Hugh to come charging through, regardless of etiquette, so we could continue our conversation. But he didn’t.
And I was stupidly, drunkenly, disappointed.
The bathroom was a small room, nondescript but clean. Two stalls lined up on one side, and two sinks and a mirror were adjacent to them. On one of the walls was a large window covered by a pair of checkered curtains. I headed to the sink and flipped the water on, then splashed my face. Okay, I might have splashed the hell out of the front of my dress, too, but I was drunk and didn’t care. I was weirdly overheated and feeling sluggish, too. Maybe it was the long sleeves of my dress?
Another woman entered the bathroom—the waitress. In a daze, I looked in the mirror, and she smiled at me.
“Is it hot in here to you?” I fanned my face.
“Sorry, not to me.” She gave me a curious look, watching me through the mirror.
“Huh.” I felt dizzy and glanced at the window. It seemed like a good idea to open it. Get a breeze in the room. I struggled to the window, wobbling as the room went hazy around me. Why was I feeling so awful? I tried to open the window, but I felt strangely weak.
“Here, let me get that for you, dearest.” The waitress came to my side and helped me open the window.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, leaning into the now open window to feel the breeze on my face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said in a light voice, smiling over at me. “You’ve been roofied.”
“Roofied?” I stared at her dumbly. “Someone roofied me?”
“Not just someone.” Then she winked at me.
My fogged brain wasn’t piecing things together. “I don’t understand.”
“It was me.”
Why would a waitress roofie me? I squinted at her, then pressed my face to the screen on the window, positively aching for the breeze from outside. “Roofies are bad. Why would you do that?”
“Because I don’t want you fighting me while we get out of here.” She nudged me aside and began to push at the edges of the screen until it popped out onto the ground.
It was hard to think. I shook my head to clear it, but that didn’t work. “Why are we leaving?”
She looked over at me and pinched my cheek. “Aren’t you cute? We’re leaving, dearest, because once Finian finds out that I’ve stolen his precious changeling, he’s going to wet his pants.”
My eyes widened. “I know you, don’t I?” I squinted at the woman’s face, but she didn’t look like anyone famous. “You’re the other fae prince, aren’t you? Except you’re a girl.”
“Guilty,” she sang out in a cheery voice, then patted the windowsill. “Glamour magic is fun, isn’t it? Now come on. Time’s a-wasting, and your bodyguard is going to sniff something out if we don’t hurry. You’re going to be quiet for me, aren’t you?” And she pinched my cheek again.
My hand flew to my face. “You touched my cheek and I didn’t turn.” Was it because he was currently glamoured to be a girl? But he was a guy underneath, wasn’t he?
“Roofies. They’re a wonder drug,” she said. “Can’t have you going all changeling on me in the parking lot. That wouldn’t do at all. Now, come on. One leg over.”
I nodded, unable to resist her encouraging words. I pushed one leg, noticing that it felt about as strong as a wet noodle, onto the windowsill. Roofies sure did mess with you. I yawned as I crawled through the window, lost my balance, then rolled to the grass outside with a giggle.
“Shhh,” she cautioned, following me out the window. She closed it carefully and turned to me, grabbing my arm. “Get up. We’re going to my car.”
Her—his?—fingers dug into my arm and I got to my feet, but it was a struggle. “Oh, man,” I breathed. “Hugh is going to be so mad when he finds out you stole me.” I gave another dopey giggle, unable to help myself.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t find out until we’re long gone,” she said, dragging me behind her. “Come on.”
We walked through the parking lot, me stumbling as much as stepping. It occurred to me that I should have fought her. Kicked. Screamed, sounded an alarm, something. But it was like the part of my mind that protested had been shut off and put to sleep. In its place was a hazy, drunken feeling, and I was helpless to object when she opened a car door and gestured that I should get inside the backseat.
