"Everyone belongs to someone," he counters. He turns my hand over, pressing a kiss to the center of my palm. The intimacy shocks me—far more erotic than if he had grabbed my ass. He tastes my pulse. "You just haven't found the right handler yet."
"Handler?" I yank my hand back, face burning. "I am not a dog to be trained."
He grins, leaning back and taking another sip of whiskey. "We'll see."
A shadow falls over the table, blocking the dim light of the hanging fixture. I look up to see a man standing there—heavy-set, smelling of stale beer and unwashed flannel. His eyes are glassy, fixed on me with a sneer that makes my skin crawl.
"You the lawyer bitch trying to shut down the mill expansion?" he slurs, swaying slightly. "My brother lost his contract 'cause of your firm."
I stiffen, my hand instinctively going to my purse. "I don't know who your brother is, sir, but?—"
"Don't talk down to me," he spits, leaning in. His hand slams onto the table, inches from my wine glass. "You city types think you can come up here and starve us out? Maybe I should teach you a lesson about respect."
He reaches for my arm.
The air in the booth changes instantly. The temperature drops twenty degrees.
Before the man’s fingers can graze my blazer, Chase moves. It’s a blur of motion—too fast to track. One second he’s lounging, the next he has the man’s wrist in a bone-crushing grip, twisting it back until the man howls in pain.
Chase doesn't stand up. He doesn't even spill his drink. He just stares at the man with cold, dead eyes.
"Touch her," Chase says, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that cuts through the bar noise, "and I’ll break it. Then I’ll break the other one. Then I’ll start on your teeth."
"Chase, I—" the man stammers, face paling as he recognizes who is holding him. "I didn't know she was with you."
"She's with me," Chase snarls, shoving the man’s arm back with enough force to send him stumbling into the next table. "She's mine. You look at her wrong, you answer to the Broken Halos. You speak to her, you answer to me. Now get the fuck out of my sight before I decide to make an example of you."
The man scrambles away, clutching his wrist, disappearing into the crowd. The bar has gone silent. Every eye is on us. Chase turns back to me, the violence in his eyes slowly receding, replaced by that dangerous, possessive heat.
"You okay?" he asks, his hand covering mine again.
"I could have handled him," I whisper, though my heart hammers a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"I know," Chase says simply. "But you don't have to."
The waitress returns to offer a refill, but Chase shakes his head. He throws a few bills on the table—a massive tip—and stands up. He extends a hand to me.
"Let's go."
"We just got here," I say, flustered.
"We stayed for one drink. We leaned close. I kissed your hand. You looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive," he lists off matter-of-factly. "Narrative established. Now I want to get you out of here before I do something that gets us both arrested for public indecency."
I take his hand because my legs feel unsteady. He pulls me up, his grip iron-tight, and tucks me into his side again. We walk out, and I feel the weight of a hundred eyes on my back.
The cold air outside shocks my system. The parking lot is quieter now, the wind picking up. Chase doesn't lead me straight to the bike. He guides me toward the darker side of the building, into the shadows cast by the towering pines.
"Where are we going?" I ask, heart hammering against my ribs.
He stops abruptly, backing me up until my shoulders hit the rough wood of the tavern's exterior wall. He cages me in, placing his hands on the wall on either side of my head. His body doesn't touch mine, but the heat radiating from him suffocates me.
"You did good in there," he says, his voice rough, stripped of the playful edge he wore inside. "You played the part."
"Effective," I stammer, trying to find a place to look that isn't his mouth. I settle on the hollow of his throat.
"Look at me," he commands.
I obey. His eyes are forest pits, swirling with a hunger that looks terrifyingly real.
