Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) by Elle Casey Page A

Points for him.
    “Ready for another?” he asks.   He glances at Teagan, but I know he’s talking to me.
    “One more,” I say.   “Then I need to go find me some man-candy to dance near.”   There .   Let him know I’m not here for him.
    He lifts an eyebrow but says nothing as he pours out another round for the three of us.   He ignores the throngs of people shouting and waving at him for drinks.   It makes me feel very VIP special, but I try to ignore that emotion.
    Teagan raises her glass and drinks the whiskey slowly.   Her eyes roam around the room, making me feel like Mick and I are in our own little bubble.
    He lifts his shot glass in my direction. “Good luck,” he says, and then he slams his drink down this throat.
    “Good luck?   What’s that for?” I ask, holding my glass out in front of me.
    His voice is strained from the alcohol.   “Finding that man-candy.”
    “Oh, trust me, babe.   I don’t need luck.”   I swallow the drink in one go and put the glass down.   “Come on, Tea-Tea.   Time to bust a move.”   I slide away from the edge of the bar.
    “Bye, Mick!” she says, as we walk away.
    “Bye, Mick,” I say, waving at him over my head but not turning around.
    I don’t hear it if he answers, and I refuse to turn around and check if he’s watching us walk away.   I’m cool.   I can do this.   He means nothing to me.   Nothing. At. All.

CHAPTER NINE

    AS WE GET TO THE dance floor, the beat changes and turns into something almost dangerous.   If there are vampires here tonight, this is the song they’ll dance to, and since I’m a Mick St. John fan from way back, I consider this a good thing. I scan the crowd for men with pale faces as my body easily downshifts into the new rhythm. Teagan and I make our way to the center of the floor where we find a small pocket of space to get our groove on.
    Within seconds we’re approached by a couple of guys who dance in our personal space wearing jeans that show way too much testicle.   I don’t even bother with the eyebrows.   I turn sideways and ignore the one closest to me completely.   A few seconds later he’s moved on to his next conquest.   I say a prayer that the poor girl’s beer goggles aren’t on and totally fogged up.
    Teagan’s doing the same avoidance thing, but her wannabe date isn’t taking the hint so well.   She sends up a silent SOS in the form of crossed eyes at me, so I put my arms over her shoulders and dance really close to her.   “Bugger off,” I say, giving him the mean-eyebrow.
    He holds up his hands in surrender and then beats feet out of there.   We collapse in giggles thinking we just scared him off the dance floor completely.   Poor guy.   Obvious amateur.   There’s a game that’s played out here on the floor, and if you can’t play you just have to leave.   That’s how I look at it.   Besides, he needed to stop dancing.   Strangling man-jewels like that could affect his ability to have kids some day.   Not that a man like that should have kids, but hey … maybe he’ll meet a nice girl someday who will shop for him.   Men can change.   I think.
    The next guy to approach me is gone in seconds. I bust out the you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me eyebrow on him.   I always use a slight lift with a frown mixed in for a man wearing skinny jeans and a torn cotton top.   I’m pretty sure I shriveled at least one of his hackie sacks, but it had to be done because he was rubbing something up on me that I either had to eyebrow-away or cut off.   It’s better for both of us that I went the less drastic route.
    The third guy who approaches is a whole other kind of animal.   He kind of takes my breath away, actually.   Wowzies .   He’s tall, muscular, and dressed like he’s just walked off the page of a Paco Rabanne magazine ad.   When he smiles, my panties send a direct signal to my brain:   Take me off.   Now.   Holy lady-boner.   Vampire, twelve o’clock.   Maybe