He must really want to impress Electra because he grips one of my shoulders and shoves.
“I warned you not to touch me.” I remove my glasses and put them on the bar, and then I snatch his wrist and twist. “Get out of here before I make you incapable of jerking off for the next month.”
Before I can break his bones, Electra steps between us. “It was really great speaking with you tonight, Derek, but it’s best you leave me to deal with my self-appointed glory hound. I appreciate your willingness to help out, though.”
Derek’s stubby lashes all but smack his browbone. Smugness curls in my chest that she chose to kickhimout.
Once he’s gone, and she’s murmured an apology to Logan for the disruption, I feign perplexity. “How did you do that?”
I’ve seen Electra Serran annoyed, hurt, and insecure. Seething, though—that’s new. The lines that compose her already angular face sit at such sharp angles that they look drawn with a ruler.
“What actually landed you in juvie, Cillian Lowry?”
Since the question is asked with a side of glowing eyes, I reel my lashes high and reply like an automaton. “I robbed a CVS store. Took insulin and art supplies.”
“What was your sister’s name?”
“Celia Lowry.”
“What happened to your parents?”
“My mother died six years ago—cancer. My father died when I was nine from cirrhosis.”
“Why are you at this bar? Did you know I’d be here?”
“No. I had a work meeting.” I hope she doesn’t ask with whom, but of course, the question comes. “With Jeneva.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Since I’m still supposed to be hypnotized, I say, “No.”
“That’s rich of you. Sabotaging my date while you line up one of your own.”
Herdate? I work my jaw from side to side. “I’m not here for cocktails and small talk. I’m here to visitLogan’sbasement, because Jen thinks it’s the ideal venue for her friend’s bachelorette party.”
Electra purses her lips. “When’s the bachelorette party?”
“Next Saturday.” As I hold her radiant gaze, I feel dangerously close to being hypnotized.
She shoves up the sleeves of a black denim jacket adorned with large silver grommets that shine in the amber glow of the bar lighting. “I don’t have a savior kink,” she grumbles.
Since magic no longer brightens her irises, I allow myself to blink and glance around for my glasses.
She drops her voice to add, “What I do have are several pet peeves—people who think they own me is one of them.”
“I don’t think I own?—”
She tosses a hundred-dollar bill on the countertop and walks off.
I jam my glasses back on and stalk after her. “Electra, wait.”
She doesn’t.
“Please wait. I’m sorry.” I jog to catch up and grip her elbow before I can think better than to touch a livid Atlantean.
She doesn’t tell me to unhand her, but she does glare at where our bodies connect.
“I’m sorry for charging into the bar like a jealous asshole.” I keep my grip featherlight. “I wish I could shut off my attraction, but I can’t. Just like you can’t shut off your attraction to…” I roll his name around on my tongue before spitting it out, “Malachi.”
