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Apollo Greatdakes had been drinking steadily since six o'clock in the afternoon. He had bowed out as gracefully as he could from Bas and Bridget's mating party. He was ridiculously happy for his baby brother, but he was also jealous enough to spit. He had to get away before he said or did something that he shouldn't.
The party had been made all the worse because Apollo's mate had been sitting across the table from him, throwing him a knowing, sexy smile every now and again.
Fuck you, Lachlan Ironwood, and your perfect fucking face.
Hours later, Apollo didn't know which club he was in or where he was in Dublin, and he really didn't care. It was dark and packed, and that was all he needed to know. For one damn night, he wanted to pretend he was still the carefree man he had been before he started playing games with Lachlan.
What hereallyneeded was to be dicked down so hard, his soul left his body. He had been horny since Lachlan had cornered him in an elevator weeks ago. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't take the edge off himself—and itwasn't for lack of attempts. So tonight, he was going to find someone to do it for him.
One guy in particular was doing a solid job of catching Apollo's eye. He was tall and had dark hair and eyes. He was cute. Not Lachlan Ironwood smolder-your-pants-off hot, but cute enough.
What the hell? Why not. Apollo grinned his come-hither smile, and like an obedient dog, the guy did hither quickly to his side of the bar.
"I have been trying to get your attention since you walked in here," the stranger said with a soft accent.
Apollo smiled wider. He had snagged a French boy.
"Maybe I wanted to play hard to get," he replied in perfect French.
Cosimo had made sure languages were a considerable part of their curriculum. As an alchemist, Apollo found learning multiple languages helpful when dealing with old manuscripts...and picking up hot tourists.
"You speak my language like a native. You are full of surprises, golden one," the stranger purred into his ear. "Can I buy you a drink?"
No, Apollo's dragon grumbled.Not mate. Want mate.
"Absolutely! Make it a double, sweetheart," Apollo said out loud. His dragon had caused him enough problems. He was the boss of his own body and could do what he wanted.
Mistake, the dragon insisted, when Apollo accepted the drink. He didn't even know what he had ordered. Ah well.
"I'm Jean," the guy said.
Apollo screwed up his nose. "We don't have to do names. The night is a bit young for that. How long are you in Dublin?"
"Just the night."
Apollo smiled and tapped his glass to Jean's. "Excellent. Just the kind of length I like my relationships."
Jean laughed. "You are too beautiful to be tied down. A night with you would be honor enough."
"Ahh, the French. You always know just how to say the right thing," Apollo said and patted the guy's cheek.
They drank, and they danced, Apollo feeling like he was floating out of his body as Jean whispered filthy things to him in French.
Apollo tried not to flinch every time the other man held him a little too tightly, and he managed to avoid his mouth every time he went in for a kiss.
Apollo wanted to cry in frustration. The guy was hot enough. He was available for one night only. It was perfect. Why did his stupid body not want to get in on that?
A face flashed through the dimly lit club. Dark hair and blue eyes were vibrant even in the darkness. Apollo blinked, and the phantom was gone. His heart was racing, and his palms were slick with sweat. He was too wasted to know if what he had seen was real or not.
Great. Now, he was hallucinating Lachlan Ironwood.
No. No. No. Not tonight.
Apollo pulled Jean close and whispered in his ear, "Let's get out of here."
"Read my mind,mon cheri," Jean replied and nibbled on his ear lobe.
