Dovesport,” I said, pressing my cheek drowsily against his chest. My regenerative abilities may slow the effects of alcohol, but they don’t stop it from making me drowsy. God giveth and taketh away, indeed. “My age is classified.”
“Sir Castinus told me you were twenty-six.”
“That traitor.”
The hand Khalil had on my hip wound around my back and held me closer to him. It felt nice to be in someone’s arms again, and I allowed myself to relax against him farther. “I find pillow talk is best for getting to know a person, but this isn’t so bad, either.”
“Good. I think. How long do you think we should wait before approaching?”
“The bedroom?”
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Franklin.”
“Do you have a plan yet?”
“Do you?”
“Sir Castinus doesn’t pay me for my planning skills.”
I held back a snarky comment on what Marcus did pay him for. The thought was way too NC-17 for the dance floor, and the more I thought of it, the more I wondered how it would feel to be in the middle of that image. Great. Maybe I didn’t stab myself hard enough with those pins. I pressed my chin into Khalil’s shirt and peered up at him. He smiled down at me with an expectant look, waiting for me to lay out my nonexistent master plan.
This was nice. Easy. Comfortable. His eyes were warm and inviting – I could stare at them for hours, absolutely mesmerized. I took in his face, from his high cheekbones to his full lips. Behind them rested fangs capable of draining me of every last drop of blood. I was still drawn to dangerous men, it seemed. When would I be old enough to know better?
Khalil cupped my cheek, running his hand down to my neck just like he had last night. His thumb rested against my pulse point, stroking over my skin in a slow but firm manner. He licked his lips and a hint of fang peeked through. His head dipped down and he grazed his lips across my cheek, down to my neck, where I felt the faintest prick as his mouth closed over my flesh.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” a familiar voice said.
My eyes widened and the world snapped back into place. I stepped away from Khalil to gape at our interloper.
“Alex?”
5
Alex was a sight for sore and incredibly-oh-so-very-much-strike-me-down-with-lightning-now-please-God eyes. He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo, and while his dark shirt and suit combo was nowhere near as expensive as Khalil’s clothing, it played up his low-key model look well. Like, hot damn did he look good. What didn’t look good was his expression. It was like the lemon fairy pissed in his eye after downing a plate of asparagus.
Chasing the image that simile brought far, far away, I took another guilty step away from Khalil and gave Alex what I hoped was a natural smile. Considering the fact that my face felt like smushed Play Doh, however, I’m guessing “natural” was the last word anyone would use.
“A friend of yours?” Khalil asked, a pleasant expression on his face despite Alex glaring daggers at him. “You need to better educate yourself on social interactions, friend. Most people would be able to tell we were occupied. And yes, you were interrupting. Now, if you don’t mind…”
“Actually–”
“Wine!” I was surprised I could even speak with all the awkwardness I was drowning in. “Let’s go get more wine and talk about this where no one can hear us so there won’t be a scene.” The last few words came out in a squeak, which I admit with no small hit to my pride.
“And here I thought you were abstaining until we were done,” Khalil said, pressing his cheek against mine to speak into my ear. Judging by the smirk on his face, he knew exactly how his words and actions would make Alex react. Fuck my life.
“What exactly are you ‘getting done’?” Alex asked through a clenched jaw.
“This dance,” I said, worried my face would freeze with this creepy smile on it.
“Is that so?” he said. “I was about to cut in, too. How
“Sir Castinus told me you were twenty-six.”
“That traitor.”
The hand Khalil had on my hip wound around my back and held me closer to him. It felt nice to be in someone’s arms again, and I allowed myself to relax against him farther. “I find pillow talk is best for getting to know a person, but this isn’t so bad, either.”
“Good. I think. How long do you think we should wait before approaching?”
“The bedroom?”
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Franklin.”
“Do you have a plan yet?”
“Do you?”
“Sir Castinus doesn’t pay me for my planning skills.”
I held back a snarky comment on what Marcus did pay him for. The thought was way too NC-17 for the dance floor, and the more I thought of it, the more I wondered how it would feel to be in the middle of that image. Great. Maybe I didn’t stab myself hard enough with those pins. I pressed my chin into Khalil’s shirt and peered up at him. He smiled down at me with an expectant look, waiting for me to lay out my nonexistent master plan.
This was nice. Easy. Comfortable. His eyes were warm and inviting – I could stare at them for hours, absolutely mesmerized. I took in his face, from his high cheekbones to his full lips. Behind them rested fangs capable of draining me of every last drop of blood. I was still drawn to dangerous men, it seemed. When would I be old enough to know better?
Khalil cupped my cheek, running his hand down to my neck just like he had last night. His thumb rested against my pulse point, stroking over my skin in a slow but firm manner. He licked his lips and a hint of fang peeked through. His head dipped down and he grazed his lips across my cheek, down to my neck, where I felt the faintest prick as his mouth closed over my flesh.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” a familiar voice said.
My eyes widened and the world snapped back into place. I stepped away from Khalil to gape at our interloper.
“Alex?”
5
Alex was a sight for sore and incredibly-oh-so-very-much-strike-me-down-with-lightning-now-please-God eyes. He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo, and while his dark shirt and suit combo was nowhere near as expensive as Khalil’s clothing, it played up his low-key model look well. Like, hot damn did he look good. What didn’t look good was his expression. It was like the lemon fairy pissed in his eye after downing a plate of asparagus.
Chasing the image that simile brought far, far away, I took another guilty step away from Khalil and gave Alex what I hoped was a natural smile. Considering the fact that my face felt like smushed Play Doh, however, I’m guessing “natural” was the last word anyone would use.
“A friend of yours?” Khalil asked, a pleasant expression on his face despite Alex glaring daggers at him. “You need to better educate yourself on social interactions, friend. Most people would be able to tell we were occupied. And yes, you were interrupting. Now, if you don’t mind…”
“Actually–”
“Wine!” I was surprised I could even speak with all the awkwardness I was drowning in. “Let’s go get more wine and talk about this where no one can hear us so there won’t be a scene.” The last few words came out in a squeak, which I admit with no small hit to my pride.
“And here I thought you were abstaining until we were done,” Khalil said, pressing his cheek against mine to speak into my ear. Judging by the smirk on his face, he knew exactly how his words and actions would make Alex react. Fuck my life.
“What exactly are you ‘getting done’?” Alex asked through a clenched jaw.
“This dance,” I said, worried my face would freeze with this creepy smile on it.
“Is that so?” he said. “I was about to cut in, too. How
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