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Groups of people take up most of the walkway. We veer around them, making our way to the kitchen in search of refreshments.
“Look who came after all,” a booming voice calls from the entrance to what looks like the living room. A man with curly brown hair grabs two beers from the counter, popping the tops, then hands them to Liya and me.
“I told you I would,” Liya replies, nudging me with her elbow. “And I brought the work bestie.” He gives me a polite nod, then returns his focus to her.
It quickly becomes obvious their conversation does not have a need for me, and based on the subtle shift in Liya’s demeanor and her soft smile, she came here for him. A girl forever on the prowl for her fated mate. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen at the Centennial like she’d hoped. She’s kept her spirits high, passing time with different guys, hoping some invisible bell will chime and declare one of them as hers.
More than anything, I want her to find what she’s looking for, I’m just not sure it exists, wolf or not. Lightning can’t strike to create a perfect match. Even if it somehow did, life is messy, people are flawed, and matches burn out.
Either way, I take the hint, slipping away without either of them noticing.
My feet lead me into the living area. I sip on my drink, looking for anyone familiar.
Even before I see him, I feel him. A warm shiver rolls down my spine when I finally spot him, his eyes already on me. It really is a shame he’s such a major ass because he does the whole brooding thing well. Visually, Rhenn is more than just attractive. Annoyingly so, especially since he doesn’t even try.
We hold our focus on each other for longer than is socially acceptable if you were just looking at someone. Though, looking isn’t what I’d call it when Rhenn has his deep grays set on me. It’s more than that, like he’s looking into me. Like there’s something more he’s trying to see.
His gaze is broken by the blue hair that nearly pounces into his lap.
Wouldn’t be a party without the frosty queen herself, I groan inwardly.
“If you’re trying to break the glass, it helps if it’s empty first.” A tall, muscular guy with long, dirty blond hair smiles down at me when I turn to face him.
“What?”
He nods toward the hand squeezing around my drink, where each knuckle is a pale shade of white. I hadn’t realized I was gripping it so tightly.
“Oh.” Smirking, I drink the last of it down. “Like this?” I joke, swaying the now empty bottle back and forth.
“Perfect. Although, I’d hate to see you cut those pretty hands on the glass.” He takes it from me, setting it on the shelf at his side. “I’m Dax.”
“Sumner.”
“Well, Sumner, are you doing anything in the next five minutes? Besides assaulting cups, of course.”
“Strangely enough, that was the only thing on my list for the night.” I laugh.
“Great.” Dax smiles, then turns toward the group playing some game a few feet away. “Sumner and I got next round.”
“Next round of what? What are they doing?” I watch one person tossing a small rock across the rectangular table.
“You’ve never played Warp Stones before?” He comes closer to me. “It’s simple. You toss your stone into the scoring ring. Closest to the center wins. The catch is, they warp midair, so you’ve gotta guess where they’ll pop back in.”
Interesting. I’ve never heard of this game.
“Okay.” I nod, excited to try.
We step up to the table and Dax bumps me with his elbow. “I win, you owe me a drink.”
“And if you lose?”
“I’ll get you one.” He throws me a wink.
Game on.
Dax goes first. He picks up an opal-colored stone, draws his arm back, and sends it sailing, way off to the right, nowhere near the ring at the far end of the table. Before I can comment on his terrible precision, the stone vanishes.
My breath catches. “Where’d it go?”
