When we ended the song, Van dragged himself away from his vampire to saunter back to the stage.He’d gone all-in on the theme, wearing rainbow antlers on his head and a grinning snowman knitted across his chest, complete with a protruding carrot nose that wobbled as he walked.I smirked.Only this cheeky jaguar shifter would find a way to make a Christmas sweater a little phallic.
My sweater was sleek, not ugly.I could only handle so much without ruining my style.My black cashmere sweater was bedazzled with silver paw prints in a retro-80’s look.Paired with a short red leather skirt, tall black boots, and sparkly cat ears, I fit the theme without sacrificing my looks.
Van climbed back on stage and his carrot bounced.
“Watch where you aim that thing,” I said with a sassy edge, turning my hip.
He flashed his mischievous grin.“Wouldn’t want to shoot your eye out,” he said, an homage toA Christmas Story.
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“Are you ready for more big cat energy?”I asked the crowd and they cheered.
The band began to play “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” and Van theatrically fanned himself.
“Cold.Try to keep up, jaguar,” I teased.“You’re fanning yourself like it’s summertime.”
“Baby, it may be cold outside,” he countered, “but it’s getting ‘Hot in Herre.’”He sang a few lines of Nelly’s song while doing a bump-and-grind move.
The audience chuckled.We sang the duet, interspersing banter for the crowd—strictly performance chemistry, but the supes ate it up, especially other big cat shifters.
We alternated on the next few songs and finished together with “Let it Snow,” encouraging everyone to join in.Once our set ended to raucous cheers, we thanked the crowd.Van slung his arm over my shoulder then kicked up his legs like a Rockette.
Applause echoed around us as we left the stage.I smiled, flushed from singing and the lights.Awareness prickled along my skin.Even with the crowd’s laughter and the pulse of the music, my senses sharpened.The air shifted—rich, smoky, electric.My pulse raced.He was close.
My panther lifted her head.Ours.
He’s nothing but trouble, I warned.My attraction to him grew and no part of me knew how to deal with that.
I turned and caught his smoldering gaze from across the room.
Darius.
Every inch of me tingled with sudden heat.
He stood at the bar.Damien blocked my view as he stepped over to say something to his mate Kylie, behind the bar.A moment later, Darius strode over to me, looking like sinful danger in a dark sweater with a tasteful gold outline of a dragon.
The air swirled with a pleasant hum between us as he closed the distance between us.The boisterous party noise dulled to a low background din.
“Nice duet,” he said, his voice smooth and eyes glittering with a devilish gleam.
“No reindeer jumper?”I teased.
His brows drew close in question.“Reindeer?”
“Never seenBridget Jones’s Diary?”At his blank expression, I added, “Never mind.”The heat grew, dancing over my skin.“It’s so hot in here.”I fanned myself.“I could use some air.”
“Let’s go.”He slid his hand to my lower back, and the warmth of his palm grounded me.
Once we were outside on the promenade deck, the cool sea air whipped my hair around my face.He caught the wild strands and pressed his hands against my temples.I glanced up at him, instantly caught up in the dark intensity of his gaze beneath the moonlight.The breeze was cool and briny, a sharp contrast to this heated pull between us.Despite the soothing rippling sound of the ocean, an erratic hum pulsed inside me.It was all too much—his devastating appeal, enticing scent.I was falling fast, and I had no idea how to stop before I crashed.
“Darius,” I said, sounding breathless.
“What?”His tone dark, feral.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” I murmured.
“Like what?”
