I froze, my fingers loosening their grip on the knife I was using to prep orange slices for the night. The pulsing lights caught on her dress, a silky black number that clung to her curves like it had been painted on. Then there was the body chain that cradled those gorgeous tits, drawing the line up to where her hair was swept up, exposing the line of her neck.
"You might want to close your mouth before you start catching flies," Harley said, nudging me with his elbow.
I scowled at him, but my eyes drifted back to Elin like they were magnetized. She hadn't seen me yet, still making her way to the bar with that confident stride that had half the club turning to watch.
"I'm working," I muttered, more to myself than to Harley.
"Sure, you are." He smirked, taking the glass from my hand. "That's why you've been stagnate since I saw her walk in and not helping Brandon with drink orders."
I ignored him, watching as some suit-wearing asshole intercepted Elin before she could reach the bar. She gave the man a tight smile, one I knew meant she was just being civil. Then another guy approached, and then another. Christ, it was like watching sharks circling chum.
"Might want to cool it with the death glare," Harley said.
I forced myself to look away, focusing on the tablet for the next drink to mix up. It wasn't my business who Elin talked to. We weren't together, really. She was just the woman I took orders from, wanted to please in every way possible, and potentially for the rest of my life.
When I glanced up again, something in my gut tightened. Some lanky prick with an expensive watch had his hand on Elin's waist, leaning in too close. She shifted away, but he followed, his fingers now splayed across her lower back. I could see her expression hardening, and the fiery spark in her eyes meant trouble.
"Bar is yours," I growled, already moving before Harley could respond.
I cut through the crowd like a blade, my focus narrowing to that asshole's hand sliding lower and Elin's increasingly rigid posture. I caught the tail end of her words as I approached.
"—said I'm not interested. Remove your hand."
"Come on, baby, don't be like that. It’s just one drink."
His hand dipped lower, and in one fluid motion, I grabbed his wrist, wrenching it away from her body.
"The lady said no." My voice was ice.
He turned, indignation flashing across his face until he registered my size. "Hey, man, we're just talking—"
"No, you're leaving." I tightened my grip, enjoying the flicker of pain that crossed his features. "Now."
"Gavriel." Elin's voice was sharp. "I can handle this."
I ignored her, already steering the guy toward the exit. He struggled, tried to pull away, but I had six inches and fifty pounds on him. When he attempted to throw a punch, I twisted his arm behind his back, marching him through the crowd that parted like the Red Sea.
"Get your fucking hands off me," he snarled. "Do you know who I am?"
"Don't care," I said, shoving him through the front door and into the cool night air. "Touch another woman without her permission in my club and no one will ever find you."
By the time I turned around, Elin was right behind me, fury blazing in her eyes.
"What the hell was that?" she demanded, voice low but vibrating with anger.
I opened my mouth to say something about protection, but what came out was, "That was me removing a problem." Even to my own ears, I sounded defensive.
"No, that was you acting like a damn caveman when I had the situation under control." She stepped closer, jabbing a finger into my chest. Her touch sent contradictory waves of arousal and shame through me. "I don't need you to swoop in and save me, Gavriel. I never have."
"He had his hands all over you." I hated how my voice betrayed both jealousy and concern in equal measure.
"And I was handling it! I've been dealing with handsy creeps since before I met you." Her eyes flashed dangerously as her voice took on a lower, quieter tone than I had never heard from her. "Or did you forget I managed to survive all those years without your protection? Or that I’m a fucking domme. Your domme."
People were staring. I reached for her elbow, intending to guide us somewhere more private, but she jerked away from my touch like it burned.
"Don't," she warned. "Next time, stay behind your bar unless I ask for help."
The words hit me like a slap, but they also sent heat straight through my veins. The way she’d saidyour domme, all possessive and commanding, made every muscle in my body tense with want, even as anger simmered beneath my skin.
