Saint was leaning against the railing at the top of the staircase, shirt open over his pale chest and pearls glimmering in the flashes of lights. He looked aloof, just like Eerie had instructed. But where Eerie looked like an otherworldly creature set to destroy humanity, Saint looked entirely too approachable.
There was an easy smile on his face, and despite his insistent grumbling about his clothes on the way to the club, he looked completely relaxed and at ease.
Wren wished he didn’t get it. But he did.
Watching Saint charm the room without even doing anything made it crystal clear why he would be who Teddy chose.
Getting it didn’t make the sour taste in his mouth disappear though. He had been there first. He’d loved Teddy first. He’d known him first. That should have counted for something. It should have made a difference.
But he watched Teddy stare at Saint and swallowed against the pain. He wished Blu was there. He wished he could feel his little claws in his shoulder and hear his twittering in his ear. He wished something could ground him so he wouldn’t fly apart at the seams.
He looked down at his own glass and forced himself to take a sip of whatever Teddy had ordered for him.
Wren had zero experience with clubs or drinks or anything like that. If only he could have kept it that way.
Teddy shifted next to him and Wren followed his gaze to find Saint talking with a tall, slim man in a nice suit. His hair was slicked back in that really dumb, posh way Wren thought looked ridiculous, and he was offering Saint a drink despite Saint already holding one in his hand.
“Is that…” he asked loudly, and Teddy nodded, body tense and eyes unblinking.
Saint accepted the glass, but in a maneuver even the best magicians would envy he leaned in to whisper something into the man’s ear, leaving the new glass behind a weird ornament and switching his old one into the other hand to make it look like he was holding the one the man had given him.
“Smooth,” Wren said as he watched Saint follow the man into a small booth, laughing at something he had said and letting his hand brush against his chest. The man followed his hand with a heated gaze. Wren hated to be impressed by Saint but he was.
“He can be,” Teddy agreed.
Wren nodded, biting his lip to stop himself from screaming. The crowd upstairs shifted and blocked their view of Saint, so Wren turned around to find something, anything to make him feel more settled.
He found couples dancing, kissing, and groping each other on the dance floor. Like a mating ritual. It looked animalistic the way they postured and flaunted their attributes to each other. Attracting each other. Fighting off competition. Winning a war they didn’t even know they were in.
It would have been fascinating if his mind had been in the right place. But it wasn’t. The only things he was completely aware of were the line of Teddy’s body against his side. The smell of his cologne and the gentle sway of his hips as he tried to resist the rhythm blaring from the speakers.
He felt a nudge to his rib cage and he turned around to find Teddy holding his phone out to him, a message flashing on screen under a plethora of notifications for unread texts he seemed to have.
Trace:You two look exactly like undercover assholes. Get it together.
Wren frowned in his direction, but Trace was doing his job like it was real. He broke up a scuffle before it could even begin and never once moved from his spot.
He turned back around to Teddy, finding him typing something on his phone.
Damir:We’re having drinks.
Trace:And glaring at the world.
Damir:What do you suggest, oh club expert?
Trace:Dance.
“No,” Wren said.
Trace:and if he says no drag him.
“Don’t you dare,” he said, but Teddy just quirked a brow at him, pocketing his phone.
“He’s right. We’re sticking out like sore thumbs parked here like this. We need to not draw attention to ourselves, and the best way to do that is to disappear in the crowd.”
“I don’t dance,” Wren said.
“But I do. I’ll lead and keep you safe.”
