Archer looked over his shoulder and glimpsed her walking out of view toward the bathrooms. He left the conversation, uncertainof his plan. Approach her in a dark hall like some creep and scare the living daylights out of her? Maybe not the best plan.
He peered around the wall from the recessed section and spied her at the jukebox to his left.
A few wisps of hair had pulled loose from her low ponytail. He leaned against his left shoulder, watching how she thoughtfully examined every title in the machine before pumping quarters into the slot. Since the crowd had thinned after lunch, the song Archer picked a few minutes ago was playing.
She tapped her toe against the floor. A lazy smile crawled up Archer’s face when she twisted her noisy bracelet. He remembered how during their drive, her bracelet jingled from all the charms knocking together whenever she turned the wheel or moved her hand.
Man, she’s pretty.
He admired her chestnut hair, the slope of her nose, the curve of her breasts, and her interesting but subtle facial expressions. Was the rosy glow on her cheeks natural or makeup? She didn’t need makeup. Seeing her in the light of day, Archer realized how captivating she was—how regal.
Other women in the bar flaunted their assets, while she concealed them. He guessed her to be five inches shorter than him, but somehow she appeared tall. Maybe it was the black boots.
Her slender fingers tapped on the jukebox to the beat of the song. Archer couldn’t get over the juxtaposition of her timid personality and how assertive she’d been during their sexual encounter.
When she suddenly looked at him, Archer averted his gaze but kept her in his periphery.
Does she fantasize about that night as much as I do?
He imagined her lying in bed, slipping her hand beneath thesheet with feverish images of him racing through her head. That was how many nights for him had played out.
The song changed over, and it was definitelynotone he had chosen. In recent weeks, Mercy had been eliminating tracks that weren’t a hit with the crowd and replacing them. This sexy number was one that the ladies liked to play at night when on the hunt.
How can a woman fully clothed look that good? What’s with those old lace-up boots? Does she always wear her hair up?
When the song reached his favorite part where the singer mewled about her tits soaking through a wet T-shirt and being tied up to the bed, he dared to look. Their eyes locked, and he held her under his rapturous gaze.
His heart quickened when her lips parted and she sucked in a breath. Then, like a ballerina, she whirled around but stumbled on her boot laces. After gripping a chair, she grabbed the beer and fled without so much as a backward glance.
She probably didn’t want her mate bumping into one of her old one-night stands, and that was understandable. Under normal circumstances, Archer would have helped her and used it as an excuse to flirt. But as she hustled up to her man like her ass was on fire, an intrusive thought nestled in his head like poison. Maybe she regretted sleeping with him for different reasons.
Maybe she was embarrassed.
He adjusted the left sleeve of his leather jacket, wondering if wearing his prosthesis in public would be better or worse. The reason he didn’t was that it had cost him a fortune. The last thing he needed was a Vampire crushing it.
Archer had come to this town hoping for a fresh start. What he’d found was a shit show. He’d slept with a few women, but most of them weren’t any different from the ones back in Oregon. Archer bragged about the women hedidhit on because he didn’twant his packmates knowing he was having a rough time. Packs and other animal groups rejected amputees. Scars implied a battle won. But a missing limb? People viewed tripods as weak. It was a wonder Tak had accepted him at all, which made Archer work extra hard to solidify his value to the pack.
He glanced wistfully at two ladies entering the bar. Seducing women had once been effortless—hardly a single instance of rejection. Now they laughed or walked away. Not all but enough that it cut deep. One Shifter was so disgusted when he flirted with her that she slapped him to save face in front of her packmates. Others were morbidly inquisitive about how it happened and what it felt like to lose his arm. They wanted to look at it, as if his pain turned them on. Beauty and the beast were often one and the same.
It made him feel like a freak show, so Archer quit removing his shirt during sex. Of all the women he’d slept with, a shy girl had been the one to make him feel whole again. Not just like a man but a god. He thought about that night, remembering the sweet taste of sugar on his lips and the desirous way she looked at him. Had it only been an act?
The couple exiting the bar broke his reverie. “Be right back,” he said to Krys before taking off.
“Hey, where the hell are you going?”
Archer weaved around empty tables, panicked that the man was about to get behind the wheel. When he flew out the door, he spotted the guy in black sunglasses slamming the passenger door of a black Camaro. Then he staggered drunkenly around the front.
Archer jogged toward him. “Hey, man! Hold up.”
The guy turned, and up close, he was Krys’s height of six-one.
“Sweet ride,” Archer remarked, realizing the only way to get on this guy’s good side was to bathe him in compliments. “How fast does she go?”
The man crossed his arms. “Zero to sixty in four seconds.”
“You tested it?”
“Hell yeah. When you commute like I do, speed matters.”
