I rip his hands from my body before he gets too comfortable.
“If you touch me again, I will rip your tongue out with my teeth,” I hiss. “How’s that for an accident?”
“Is that a threat?” Deacon asks, posturing.
His large arms flex on command, detailing every muscle group, and I shake my head at his well-practiced display.
“No,” I say, voice even. “It’s a promise.”
“Dude.” The white wolf tugs at him. “Leave it alone. Come on.”
His friend attempts to drag him from the dance floor, but Deacon resists, swiping at his hands.
“It’s fine,” Deacon says. “She’s just a succubus. What’s she gonna do?”
My power sparks, anger coursing through me. But I don’t get the chance to expel it before a deep voice interrupts our little conversation.
“Do either of you have a death wish?” Elliot asks.
The white wolf shakes his head, his face now slack.
“N-no, sir…” he stammers.
“Then fuck off before I muzzle you both.”
Deacon, possessing less sense than even I’d given him credit for, opens his mouth to argue. But his friend, less reckless with his life, steps in. He clamps a hand over Deacon’s mouth, muttering, “Y-yes, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”
The white wolf bows low, holding his glasses to his face as he backs away. Deacon’s pea-sized brain finally catches up when he sees the tension in Elliot’s jaw, and he too lowers his eyes in compliance, retreating without another word. When they’re at a safe enough distance not to insult their beta, they turn their backs and melt into the crowd.
Elliot faces me, arms crossed, shaking his head.
“I leave you alone for thirty minutes, and you’re already picking fights?” he asks.
I think he means to sound disappointed, or even angry, but the smile on his face tells me all I need to know.
I shrug.
“Maybe you should train your wolves better.”
He laughs, nodding.
“It’s these fucking first-years,” he concedes. “They’re like animals.”
He cringes as he drags a hand over his face, and for a moment, I pity him. I’ve known Elliot long enough to know that this is his version of an apology, and while it isn’t necessary, I accept it anyway.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say. “I could’ve handled it.”
“And let you tear him to pieces in the living room?” He scoffs. “Dame would kill us both.”
My anger simmers as we both laugh in earnest. He’s not wrong about that. As Kitty likes to say, Dame is a buzzkill.
With a tilt of his head, Elliot beckons me forward. I go willingly, downing the contents of my cup and setting it on the mantle before leaning into him.
“That guy deserves a kick in the teeth,” I mutter, snaking my arms around his neck.
“I’d pay to see that,” he says, resting his hands on my hips as we settle into our familiar rhythm.
“I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing. I could start charging you if you want to watch.”
