Dave gave a polite nod and stayed quiet. He’d seen this show before. Christian didn’t even glance at him before he said, “Sure.” But his chair stayed angled toward Dave, the way it always did.
The women settled in, leaning close to Christian, asking the usual questions in voices a little too loud, giving away they’d been in the bar awhile. Where you from, are you passing through, what brings you to town?
Christian answered easily enough, voice low and even, but he wasn’t encouraging them. This was just Christian sitting there, existing, and somehow that was enough to keep them hooked.
After they each sent a vague smile in his direction, Dave might as well have been part of the furniture. He didn’t much mind. He was used to it. Women were drawn to Christian like flies to honey, and Dave couldn’t judge them for that when he was the same way.
Something about Christian had pulled him in from the first moment he’d seen him, despite the fact he’d had a black eye and a split lip from a fight the previous night. Yeah, they were mates, but Dave thought he’d have been just as attracted to him even if they weren’t.
Now, dressed in faded jeans, a pair of worn cowboy boots, a tight black T-shirt, and a leather jacket broken in just right,he was damn well irresistible. He was letting his hair grow a bit longer these days, so it brushed past his collar, and the extra length somehow turned its coloring from dark brown to something closer to mahogany, a bit like the way the tips of his ears and tail were picked out in dark red when he shifted. His jaw was dusted with dark stubble and his deep hazel eyes were intense in a way that made anyone he spoke to forget everything else around them.
Yeah, so maybe Dave was a bit besotted, sitting there staring at Christian like he was seeing him for the first time all over again. He pulled his thoughts back on track and wondered if he should head to the bar, see if he could get the bartender talking. It wasn’t like anyone at the table would notice he’d gone.
He trusted Christian implicitly, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed watching people flirt with him. Especially whentheydidn’t flirt. They’d been together for five years—couples who’d been together that long, wholovedeach other, didn’t flirt. They shouldn’t have to, and they shouldn’t expect it. But watching the shy tenderness between Tristan and Colby as they’d gotten together had set a strange longing loose in him. Dave wanted something more.
Shaking off the unwanted thought, he picked up his beer, trying to ignore the less-than-subtle flirting going on. It was one way, but Christian wasn’t doing anything to shut it down. Which was right. After all, this was why they were here, to learn about the town.
Still, he could have done without hearing the blonde’s judgment of Christian’s arms. At some point, he’d shrugged his jacket off, and yeah, hedidhave nice arms. Dave thought about licking them more often than he probably should. But the way she ran her hand along his forearm and squeezed—his wolf, usually tolerant, stirred inside and snarled. Christian didn’t move, didn’t even look at her hand, just kept spinning his beer bottle like he hadn’t noticed.
“You’re very strong,” she said with a sultry smile, and Dave’s annoyance eased slightly as he realized she really was kind of drunk. Must be, to use a line like that. “You looking for something a little more interesting than sitting here?”
Christian raised an eyebrow. “That depends on what kind of interesting.”
“There’s a crowd in town who throw private parties,” she said, leaning in even further and lowering her voice. “Underground kind of thing. You know, for people who like a little danger.”
“A fight ring?” Christian asked, almost lazily, belying the sudden spark in his eyes.
“Not officially,” she said. “Just folks blowing off steam.”
Dave leaned forward slightly. “Locals?”
“Sort of.” She answered him without taking her eyes off Christian. “I mean, they’re shifters, but they’ll let anyone who can afford the stake have a go.”
Christian smiled a slow, dangerous smile that had Dave’s nerves tingling. That was the look Christian got before a fight.
It wasn’t onlyhisnerves that were tingling, judging by the sudden giggle the blonde gave. “Thought you were the type.” She squeezed his arm again. “Could feel all those muscles.”
And Christianstilldidn’t move his arm. He just let her. “So if I wanted to try my hand, where would I find this party?”
“The old canning plant, Sutton Road. Next meeting’s tomorrow night, so you’re in luck.”
“Orweare,” the brunette said, in what she probably thought was a whisper.
Christian glanced at Dave, then finished his beer and stood up. “We need to get going,” he said, accepting the cocktail napkin with a number scribbled on it as if it was nothing more than his due.
Dave rose too, finishing the last of his beer. He didn’t look at the napkin, didn’t mention it. He didn’t need to. He also didn’tsay what he wanted to—Hey,could you not do that? Or even just,I hate it when you do that. Saying it would feel as if he were asking for too much, so he let it go, the way he always did.
Outside, the air was cooler than it had been when they went in, with a faint smell of desert dust.
“How’d you get from ‘party’ to ‘fight ring’?” Dave asked.
Christian shrugged. “I know towns like this. Not much money, and no future. Guysneeda way to let it out.”
Crumpling up the napkin, Christian pocketed it. “Anyway, that’s given us a way to meet the pack tomorrow night. Another bar or two tonight, see what else we can find out?”
Dave shoved his hands in his pockets as they headed down the main street toward the next bar. “Sure.”
And he tried to ignore the excitement in Christian’s voice at the prospect of tomorrow night.
