His focus is still on Kira.
“Go back inside,” he orders. “And lock the door.”
She nods and then bolts back inside the pub, the door slamming behind her.
It’s only then that I get to experience the full force of Lynx Harper’s stare. Our eyes meet for the briefest moment, but it’s enough to steal the breath from my lungs and make my heart beat double time.
Jesus Christ.
Even from this distance it’s like he’s staring into my soul. Like he can read every filthy, desperate thought running through my mind right now.
I wonder what he sees when he looks at me.
A tall, skinny, blond-haired idiot who doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.Thank you so much for that insight, brain.
Heat sears through me, regardless, because everything about Lynx Harper is potent. I’m half hard and desperately want to look down and check it’s not as obvious as it feels, but it’s like I’m locked into whatever this is.
It also feels oddly familiar, but that’s just desperate and wishful thinking on my part.
Lynx breaks first, his attention snapping back to Birch and his crew. With the heat from his gaze no longer warming me from the inside out, I shiver.
Ash kicks me again, mouthing,What the fuck?But I’ve got nothing, still reeling from the weird connection I felt for that one glorious second.
“The fuck you waiting for, Birch?” Lynx doesn’t raise his voice, but the threat in it rings loud and clear. It’s like the most dangerous game of tennis as me and the rest of the pub look from Lynx to Birch, then back again, waiting for the next move.
If Birch has any sense of self-preservation, he’ll get up and ride out of here while he still can, but I’m almost positive he’s got none. Or maybe he thinks Lynx is all talk.
Or maybe he doesn’t give a shit.
I’m leaning towards the latter because Birch still wears that stupid smirk as he rubs his throat. “Not done drinking yet.”
“Yeah, you are.” As one, Lynx and the three other Wild Wolves get off their bikes and walk around to stand in front of them. The movement is slow, predatory, with a hint of wildness, just like their club name suggests.
All clad in worn jeans, T-shirts, and the black leather cut of their club, they’re scary as fuck, but so damn hot I almost forget what’s about to happen.
Birch shoots to his feet, all traces of that smirk gone as he and the others square off. “Back the fuck off, Harper. You know the rules.”
“I do.” Lynx walks closer, cracking his neck from side to side. “Pretty fucking sure you don’t though.” He nods at the front of the Old Bell. “This is our territory. You’ve no business being here.”
“The whole town’s neutral territory, so don’t give me that shit.” Birch crosses his arms and tilts his chin up. “You gonna make us leave?”
Lynx glances back at his men, eyebrow raised. He gets three nods in return, and I’m hit with a mix of dread and unhealthy excitement.
Here we fucking go.
LYNX
I hate him.
I don’t give a shit about pack territory. Well, I do, obviously, but the Old Bell isoursand Birch knows it. Every fucker around here knows it. Birch may be a cunt, but he’s not a stupid one. So that begs the question: what the fuck is he doing here when he knows it’s asking for a fight?
Unease settles under my skin, and I take that shit seriously.
You never ignore your instincts.
“Careful, Harper,” Birch warns. “I hear Beck and his team are in the area. You want that sort of attention?” That smirk returns and it gets under my skin like the tip of a sharp claw. He’s lucky we’ve got an audience, or I’d rip his fucking throat out.
I grind my teeth, swallowing down the urge to do just that. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. We can’t afford to draw Beck’s, or any hunter’s, attention.
