When he saunters through the door, his long, lean body moves with the sensual grace of liquid smoke. I smile to myself and beg my heart to do its thing at a slower, less embarrassing rate.
I’m the bait, the Fang is the cage, and now it’s time to lock thedoor. Lips curled in a sensual smirk; I give all the regulars extra attention and ignore him entirely.
My skin tingles, and I sense him coming a second before he speaks.
“Have you been looking for me, angel?”How did he know?
I lift my head, mouth falling open in a pantomime of surprise. “Have you been away?” It’s the easiest way to dodge a lie while preserving my dignity.
Alistair claps his hand over his heart as if I’ve wounded him, his blue eyes twinkling. “I must have been mistaken,” he purrs, dipping his head in an old-world bow. “Since I’ve done nothing since the last time we met but think of you.”
“You’re a charmer.” I bat my eyelashes at him.
He tilts his head to the side and studies me for a full minute before dropping into a seat and spreading his long legs wide. “Are you doing personal dances tonight?”
Step one: done.I nod, stepping up to him and dropping into his lap. Since Alistair is a big guy, I have plenty of room to work. I brush my face against his neck, shuddering as his stubble grazes my exposed skin, then sink into the dance and let the music lead me.
Alistair keeps his hands respectfully at his sides, and I notice for the first time how long and tapered his fingers are. He has clean, neatly trimmed nails—not a hint of blood to be seen. I wonder how often they end the night as spotless as they started it.
When I sense eyes on me, it’s easy to spot the voyeurs. Ciprian sits in his now-customary spot at the bar, attached to Luca like a barnacle. I’m sure they’re having a great time gossiping, but with the way they’re both staring at me, I’m dancing for three.
“Why were you looking for me, Celine?” Alistair asks again, leaning back in the chair.
“Who says I was?” I deflect to avoid lying.Leaning forward, I slide my body up his chest to whisper in his ear. “I could use your help, though. Are you up for a deal tonight?”
Alistair grins, the tips of his fangs barely showing. “Always,” he murmurs. “I love a negotiation that kicks off before the stakes are even laid.”
“I bet you do,” I tease, then drop some of my seductive act to update him on the new orphaned angels. Keeping my lips near his ear, I mention Luca’s theory that the same thing might be happening in other fringe communities. I pause when Alistair catches my chin in his hand. He slowly lifts my head, his brow furrowed.
It’s the first time he’s touched me since the dance began.
“Angel, you don’t need a deal to get my help with that. I’m more than happy to assist Harry and put your mind at ease.” He sounds almost hurt, and I frown. Doesn’t he realize I don’t want to owe him?
“There’s more.” I hear my own breathy voice absently, then dart a glance at the bar. Since he’s not an idiot, Alistair catches on immediately. His blue eyes take on a steely glint.
“Which one do you want to make jealous, then?”
Spinning, I arch my back and return my mouth to his ear, sharing my suspicions about Ciprian’s shady motives while avoiding explaining why I want to control the narrative. Alistair listens carefully, his grin snapping back into place and growing until his wickedly sharp fangs are poised mere inches above my exposed neck.
“I’ll do it,” he says. “But we’ll need a cover for why I’m around.” His lips graze the shell of my ear, and I shiver. I’m prepared for this. What I’m not prepared for is the tightening of my nipples as my body gets the wrong idea about what’s going on here. This dance is supposed to turn Alistair on—not me.
“Date me,” I say, wincing at how demanding that sounds. “As the cover.”
Alistair holds my gaze, a sliver of red rimming the edge of his irises. He’s going to say no or laugh or dump me out of his lap. I can’t believe I thought this was a good?—
“When do we start?”
“Now.” Blinking, I drop my weight fully onto his thighs. “Procrastination is for the dead.”
Alistair stands languidly, and my body goes with him. Slowly, he sets me down, never freeing me from the intense eye contact.
Once my feet are planted, he steps back and adjusts the straps crisscrossing my throat. I glance down, prepared to fix whatever he messed up, then freeze as I take in the even lines. Before I can process that, he drops his hand, twines our fingers together loosely, then pulls me straight toward the bar.
Their eyes burn me, but I force myself to focus on Alistair. It’s not hard, especially when his hand in mine is doing all kinds of ridiculous things to my nervous system.
Only when we reach the bar, do I look up at them. Luca’s hazel eyes are wary but unsurprised. Ciprian’s expression... Shit, I can’t get a read on it at all. It’s blank, his thoughts buried beneath so many layers of smoke and mirrors that I don’t have a prayer of uncovering the real ones.
“You finally got that dance you’ve been after. Congrats,” Luca says to Alistair, handing me a bottle of water with a question in his eyes. He wants to know what game I’m playing, but he’ll have to wait. I can’t spoil it yet, not when his reaction is what I’m counting on to sell this.
