My eyes glued themselves back to the black tabletop like it was the one who offended me.
I knew it was ridiculous to sit and pout like this over a man like Grant Black. Yeah, I had threatened him to not talk to me anymore. But maybe a small piece of me wished he would try to climb the walls I’d built around myself. He’s just another underling for another mob boss—Andrea Caruso, no less—and my brain was telling me that I needed to forget him and move on to a less complicated situationship. It’s not like he even gave me much to go on. He wouldn't tell me much about his past beyond living with a wolf shifter pack as a foster. I shifted with a heavy sigh, starting to move toward the end of the booth’s seat, when a pair of legs clad in black pants blocked me in.
“Are you going to tell me to fuck off, too?”
This ballsy son of a bitch.
My shoulders stiffened, my spine snapping straight like I’d been pinned to the back of the booth. A long-fingered hand holding a glass of scotch by the rim came into my field of vision as he set it down opposite my drink. White sleeves rolled up to his elbows showcased those defined forearms, and the same black watch he wore in our first meeting caught my eye.
“I thought I alreadytoldyou to fuck off,” I answered just loud enough to hear over the music. Despite my best efforts, my eyes still lifted from glaring at the table to meet Grant’s gaze through his black rimmed glasses. “Are you this bad at taking directions from your own boss?”
Grant scoffed. “Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have survived long enough to make it here.” He kept his answer intentionallyvague. Not that anyone could eavesdrop on us over the thumping bass, but it was not a good practice to be yelling about being part of a mafia. Maybe he does have some sense of self-preservation. “You can say I’m a dog with a bone about some things.”
“What, you’re calling me a bone? How charming.”
He slid into the booth’s seat opposite mine and leaned closer over the table, snatching my hand up before I could pull it away. The two Riot members on guard bristled, shifting closer until I jerked my chin to the side in a silent command to stand down. The stiffness in Grant’s shoulders relaxed with the assurance I wasn’t tossing him out on his ass immediately.
Even so, I snarled and yanked my arm to free myself. Grant raised my palm to kiss the center before rubbing it against his smooth cheek, then pressed his nose to the pulse point on my inner wrist and took in a great lungful of my scent there. I had the pheromone blocker on—practically drenching myself in it before leaving the condo this morning—but it was weaker now, and Grant’s sense of smell was better than any shifter I’d met. A sliver of suspicion slithered into awareness, something I had noticed but never gave much weight to until now. Shifters were extremely driven by scent, especially those in prime breeding age. While the effect was mostly lost on women, the men reacted to the pheromones of their mates on a baser level. I wore the blocker in an attempt to avoid potential mates sniffing around—I didn’t have time for that shit—but Grant proved to be unshakeable. If we had the unfortunate circumstance of being mates, it would certainly explain why my brain refused to hold on to the anger I managed to scrounge up. That didn’t mean I was going to make it easy on him to trap me in a mate bond.
I had the distinct feeling, in this very moment, that there was nowhere I could go where Grant Black couldn’t find me. Andsomething about that thrilled me. What changed to make him so assertive, though?
“I’m not here because of Andrea. Well, not in the way you think.”
The admission was low and sounded sincere enough. I wished we were somewhere with fewer bodies, so I could scent him and assure myself he was telling the truth. Or maybe to settle this unease weighing heavily in my stomach. Grant must have felt the same way, because he reached across the table for my other hand and pulled like he was going to take me from the booth.
“Dance with me.”
My right brow tried to creep all the way to my hairline. “You’re a cocky bastard, aren’t you? I thought I made myself clear, I wanted nothing to do with you.” I tried to extricate my hands from his, but the effort was half-hearted. “Just because I haven’t ripped your throat out yet doesn’t mean you’re in the clear.”
Grant’s lips twitched in an almost smile, and he leaned across the table on his elbows. His grip on my hands tightened as he set them between us. It was like he refused to let go once he’d gotten hold of me. I countered his move by leaning back into the lush purple cushion of the booth, finally jerking my hands free to cross my arms tightly. Like that could hold on to whatever sliver of self-control I could muster like a life preserver.
“I’ve always been a bit of a slow learner.” Those rich brown eyes warmed like chocolate melting in the sun, and he slowly moved his right hand across the table. Still holding my stern gaze, he flipped it palm-up in a silent invitation. “Come on, Lore. What’s one dance?”
Because I already convinced myself not to chase after you,I thought bitterly. Not that I would ever admit something like that to Grant. It was bad enough to be panting after him like I was in heat. Knowing that he had even the faintest connection to that slimy bastard Andrea should have been enough to makeme retch in his presence. It was definitely enough to taint any interaction we had after that little reality check. So why was I even giving him this bit of attention?
“Since when doyoudance, anyway? You never struck me as someone who’d be grinding on a crowded dance floor.” My eyes slid to said dance floor, where people were packed in so tightly it looked like a giant, writhing mass of arms.
He leaned in a little closer, still holding onto my hand like I was his lifeline. “When it comes to you, Lore, I’m willing to do just about anything to keep you close.”
Grant’s warm eyes pleaded with mine. Almost like… he wanted me too. Not the Red Riot boss. Not Cyber_Fox, or Vixen. Just me, Lore Brennan, and all my messy bits. I willingly threw myself into the dark world of hacking and black markets, knowing I would sacrifice the human connections that could be used against me. I resolved to guard my heart for the sake of more than just myself. If whispers of my location ever made it back to my shitbag of a father or, even worse, the man he sold me to… I already risked being found by fucking with Andrea’s money flow and blackmailing him to keep my identity a secret. But I refused to stand by and let him snatch girls out from under my nose, when I promised them protection and freedom. While I couldn’t go after every piece of filth in the world who took advantage of prone men and women, it was the least I could do to make predators within my reach wish they hadn’t been born, Andrea included.
I had been in a position where my body was not considered my own. Never again would I allow a man in power to take autonomy from a woman if I knew about it. At the same time, there was something magnetic about Grant Black that I kept allowing myself to be drawn into. It was obvious he didn’t support Andrea in his trafficking, even if he helped him makemoney with the sales. There must be something Andrea had on him that forced Grant to go along with his fucked-up auctions.
“Shit,” I snarled, capitulating despite myself. “You have one feckin’ song to convince me not to toss you out on your ass like you deserve.” Switching our grips, I dug my nails into his wrists hard enough to make his brow wrinkle in discomfort. “And you better not make me regret it, puppy.”
Every interaction was like a game of chess, both of us moving to win against the other. As usual, Grant didn’t do what I expected. He snatched my watery scotch off the table, lifting it to his full lips to throw it back with a quick jerk of his head, and set the glass slick with condensation back on the watery ring it created. I blinked and he was standing beside me, effectively blocking my way and line of sight to the dance floor again. The height difference of the booth elevated on its own platform put my head just below his chest, so I only had to tilt my head a little to meet his blazing stare. Grant bent down to grip my thigh, wrapping his fingers around the inside of it, and jerked my leg off the seat to turn toward him.
“What the–” I didn’t get to finish my ‘what-the-fuck’, because he then hooked both hands behind my knees and yanked me the rest of the way off the seat to wrap around his waist. He straightened from the slight bend and used one hand to pull my arm over his shoulder. The other hand slid under and supported under my ass with ease. I would never say this aloud, but… it was fucking hot that Grant could manhandle me like this. My distressed black jeans accommodated the spread and let me press myself close enough to feel the hard ridge straining against the front of his pants.
My scowl over his shoulder met the amused expression on Kent’s stupid face. Of course, he was one of the guards on duty tonight; I hadn’t even realized, stewing in my bad mood before Grant showed up. What an act of betrayal, letting him weaselhis way into another chance. I flipped Kent off, bringing another chuckle to his smug lips as Grant carried me further into the crowded dance floor.
“Don’t think I’m lettin’ you off the hook,” I grumbled, not thinking Grant would actually be able to hear me over the pulsing electronic beat loud enough to vibrate my bones. But his chest shook in a laugh, and his arms squeezed tighter for just a moment before loosening to let my feet drop to the floor. I may have been sorely out of place in my slouching long-sleeved pink shirt, shredded black jeans, and Converse, but the way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the room made my cheeks blush hot.
Instead of letting me go entirely, Grant pulled me close and smoothly slid his thigh between mine. His hands guided my arms to rest on his shoulders, and I buried my fingers in the hair along the nape of his neck. It had grown out a little in the weeks since we’d first met. And the fact I noticed that immediately made me blush even more. At this rate, I was gonna burst into flames with embarrassment.
Grant’s hands spread across my back and cemented our fronts together, swaying to the sensual beat of the music as bodies writhed around us. “Tick-tock, puppy. I said one song. Tell me whatever you need to tell me so I can move the fuck on.”
A mischievous light sparked in his eyes behind those innocent-looking glasses. I wasn’t fooled; this guy was so calculating and methodical it disturbed me a little. He probably didn’t even need those glasses. They just made him look like someone who couldn’t throw a punch. But I felt the strength in how easily he hoisted me off the booth, and his hard abs pressed against my body as we danced. Grant was dangerous in so many ways, but I was too fucking stupid to just kill him and carry on with my life.
