Chapter 14: Showtime

Chapter 14

Showtime

Tying a bow tie appeared to be one of those things that had been completely wiped from my memory.

Or, since I’d apparently been a college kid with hard-partying friends—and not the black tie kind of party—maybe I’d never known.

Either way, my sweaty, shaking fingers didn’t help at all.

One hour. One hour, and I’d be at some fancy restaurant under the scrutiny of Drew’s uncle Boyd, his wife, his two sons, Drew’s parents, Alyssa, the infamous Victoria, and her family.

All werewolves. A lot of them alphas. And all wishing puny little human me far, far away—at best—for one reason or another.

I’d retreated to the bathroom to use the mirror in there to give me an edge on the tie thing, but so far all it’d accomplished was giving me a great view of my damp, rosy face, chin lifted to expose the tangled mess at my collar.

A soft sound alerted me to Drew’s presence in the doorway. I turned my head, and—froze.

Oh, my fucking God. Drew in a T-shirt and gym shorts looked like a cover model.

Drew in a tux could’ve been the cover model for James Bond Monthly.

He lounged against the door frame, massive arms crossed and shoulders straining even the obviously custom tailoring of his jacket, the rest of him long and lean and powerful. His eyes rested on me with something intense gleaming in their depths.

And a hint of alpha glow on top. That didn’t surprise me. He’d been keyed-up as hell all day. For once, I was kind of glad I couldn’t feel my ass, because with the number of times he’d knotted me over the past few days—and extra that morning, plus once in the afternoon before I got in the shower—I had to be absolutely ravaged.

“I’ll help with that,” he said, and pushed off the wall, sauntering into the bathroom to take up position right behind me, his chest brushing my back. “Here.”

He reached up and around, setting both hands on my neck, tugging gently at the mess I’d made of the tie.

Our eyes met in the mirror. I realized that I was seeing what everyone else at this dinner would be seeing, and the last of the confidence I’d been gritting my teeth and forcing myself to fake sizzled away like a drop of water on a hot pan. My head only came up to Drew’s chin, not only giving me a full view of both of our faces—mine plain, unevenly flushed, and damp with nervous perspiration, blond curls all messily tousled no matter now I tried to make them behave, and Drew’s movie-star handsome, with his dark-brown waves all naturally, perfectly bedhead-sexy—but emphasizing how small and thin and vulnerable I looked compared to him, and by extension everyone related to him.

“They’re never going to buy it,” I muttered without meaning to.

Drew’s hands paused, the ends of the tie dangling from his fingers.

“Buy what? You mean the mate bond? Sure they will. Only someone with magic can see a bond or the lack of it, and we already know our energy’s too messed up to tell the difference. Besides, no shamans or anything at the party.”

He went back to work on the tie, his fingers brushing my throat and chin and making me shiver.

How could he not understand what I meant? He was looking at the same thing I was. It had to be purposeful, acting obtuse so he wouldn’t hurt my feelings by agreeing with me that no one in their right mind would think he’d choose someone like me.

“You don’t need magic to see that—” I cut off abruptly, snapping my mouth shut. What good would it do to say it out loud?

“You’re right, I don’t,” he said, his voice gone all low and husky. He dipped his head, eyes shining, and nuzzled below my ear, breath coming a little faster than it had a second before. “No magic required to see how fucking hot you are.”

I went rigid, everything from my brain to my toes all cold and tingly.

No magic required.

Except that it had been. Drew had been magically altered over a period of months, and if he hadn’t he’d never have touched me.

We’d done more than fuck over the past three days, too. Drew figured out that while I had a lot of pop culture references, scenes from movies, and bits of dialogue embedded in my mind, I couldn’t remember ever seeing a movie and had no idea why I knew any of it.

He’d set out to fix that, gleefully filling in the time between ravaging me with all of his favorites, which unsurprisingly slanted heavily toward sci-fi and anything with Bruce Willis, or both.

Drew had cuddled me close while we watched in bed, laughed at my commentary when it was meant to be funny and smiled when it wasn’t, whispered his own in my ear, and generally acted like he enjoyed me. Just me, not only my body.

I’d basked in it.

But it occurred to me for the first time that liking someone had a lot to do with hormones, nearly as much as wanting to fuck someone did. If you were attracted enough, besotted enough, even stupid jokes and shallow remarks could seem funny and interesting.

Maybe that had been my deal with Clayton.

Anyway.

It was all a lie, bottom line. Not that I blamed Drew for it. He couldn’t help it.

Drew had moved on to nipping at my earlobe, his hands wandering down and away from the half-tied bow tie.

I had to shake myself out of it before he lost the plot and bent me over the sink when we had barely enough time to get to the restaurant by seven.

“Thanks,” I said, forcing myself to smile and even make it look kind of genuine. “I’m glad I won’t embarrass you. But you should probably finish my tie so we won’t be late.”

“Don’t particularly care if we’re late,” Drew growled into my throat. But he sighed, lifted his head after one last nibble, and made short work of the rest of the knot. “There. You look incredible. And we should get going before I really do make us late.”

I followed him down the stairs, wishing we could strip the tuxes off again and be so late we missed dinner completely.

***

Drew pulled up in front of a glitzy restaurant in downtown Boise with a screech of tires and a deep growl from his sports car’s powerful engine.

I slumped back in my seat, breathing hard. Turned out I could still get nauseated, lucky me. And at least fearing for my life at every bend in the road had distracted me from what I had waiting for me if I survived until dinner.

“You okay?” Drew asked.

I turned my head, swallowing hard. Good to know he had some flaws—his driving had just made the top of the list—but sitting there in his tux, all five o’clock shadow and tailored suit and concern for me in his gorgeous eyes…well, I couldn’t think of another offhand.

“I can do this,” I said, with more optimism than confidence.

“I know you can, baby.”

He swooped in and kissed me so quickly I couldn’t even process it, his lips pressed to mine for only a second before he lunged away again, hands flexing and eyes glowing.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “Fuck. Sorry. I know that’s not something we—I should’ve asked.”

Asked? Laughter bubbled up in my chest, irresistible, and I choked and coughed, waving off his concerned frown.

He’d spent more time with his cock inside me than not for most of a week. And he thought he should have asked before he kissed me?

“I told you you could do anything. That includes kissing me. If you want to?” I couldn’t quite believe that he did. “Besides, won’t they all expect us to kiss? If we’re newly mated, and everything?”

The gleam in his dark eyes didn’t owe much to his alpha glow as he leaned back in slowly, wrapping his hand around the nape of my neck.

“True that,” he said softly. “Better practice a little more before we go inside, then.”

God, I wished I could appreciate the way he brushed his mouth over mine, so gently, before teasing my lips apart with his tongue. The way he nibbled at my lower lip and then slipped inside, stroking my tongue with his, learning all the contours of my mouth.

He had a deep-red flush on his cheeks when he finally pulled back, and he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from my lips.

“There,” he said. “Now you look so fucking ravishable I want to fuck you in the back of the car.”

I blinked, shook my head to try to clear it a bit—yeah, probably not happening, I’d be as dazed as I probably looked when we walked into the restaurant, fuck my life—and shot a glance over my shoulder at the two valets on the sidewalk, both of them trying and failing not to seem like they’d been staring at us.

“I don’t think we’d fit in the back of your car.” Because that was why I shouldn’t crawl back there and spread my legs, obviously.

“Probably not,” Drew said with regret. “Fuck it. You ready for this?”

“No.”

He smiled at me, reaching out to stroke my cheek, running his thumb over my lips. “Me neither. But we’ll be together. Come on.”

And with that, he opened his car door and stepped out to face the music, a valet popping my door open a second later.

The inside of the restaurant had more glittery-gilt vases, unnecessary column-things, and shiny tile than a magpie would’ve thought was tasteful, and I wished I’d been cool enough to be wearing sunglasses at night. As I blinked away some of the glare, Alyssa appeared out of nowhere, looking around her shiftily.

“You’re late!” she hissed. “What the hell, Drew?” Her eyes flicked to me. “Hey, Ash. Glad you could make it.”

She did not sound glad.

“It’s five after seven, fucking chill,” Drew groused back in an undertone. “We’re here, aren’t we? And what the ever-loving fuck are you wearing?”

I hadn’t even noticed in my general state of fluster, but now that I paid attention…

“You look like you’re on the way to the Puritan fetish ball,” Drew went on. Okay, a little harsh, but the demure bun, the ribbon choker, and the corsetry on top of the long, flowing, floofy skirt with a slit up to her thigh… “Or maybe, like, you bought your dress in a package labeled ‘Slutty Laura Ingalls Wil—’”

“Shut the fuck up!” Alyssa’s cheeks had gone red enough that I could see it shining through her perfect make-up. “You’re welcome!” She bared her teeth at Drew in the most elegant snarl known to man, or to werewolf woman. You’re welcome? What did she expect thanks for, exactly? Drew looked as baffled as I felt, but she cut off whatever he might’ve said with, “Now move your asses. They’re all waiting. I snuck out of the room to tell you, I’ll handle Victoria. Just make your mate bond look as solid as you can for the parents and keep it together. And don’t let Blake get to you, Drew, you hear me? He’s in fine form tonight.”

Blake. I was pretty sure that was the alpha cousin, although I’d probably fail a quiz.

“I don’t need you to tell me how to handle Blake,” he gritted out.

“Right.” She rolled her eyes and flounced off, leaving us to follow in her pastel-floral-tightly-laced wake.

The short hallway leading off from the restaurant lobby led into a private banquet room, with more gold stuff and fewer columns, one large and beautifully laid table, a polished bar, and a window across the room looking out on the mountains to the east, the top halves lit as gold as the restaurant’s décor by the setting sun.

All of it would’ve intimidated me even without the dozen or so hostile, formally attired werewolves standing around holding cocktails.

Who all turned and looked right at us as we walked in the door. My head went light and floaty, and I might have turned metaphorical tail and run if not for Drew grabbing my hand and tucking it through his elbow, pressing it against his side. Comfort or making sure I couldn’t escape?

Column A and column B, I guessed.

“Showtime,” Drew muttered under his breath, pasting on a smile.

I did my best to follow suit, although mine probably just looked ghastly on my pale, terrified face.

And we stepped into the fray.

Despite how hard I’d tried to keep it together, I’d passed beyond panic into some kind of mental state I didn’t even have a word for. Both fight and flight being impossible, my sympathetic nervous system fell back on freezing me in place like a terrified rodent.

Only my death-grip on Drew’s arm kept me moving around the room.

Maybe luckily, almost none of them even bothered to acknowledge me beyond a grudging word or a nod when Drew introduced me. Jeanette looked down her nose at me like I was something she’d found on her designer shoe, while her husband, Drew’s dad, didn’t bother to leave the bar to speak to us at all. The dread Uncle Boyd, exactly as square-jawed and scary-eyed as I’d imagined him, only curled his lip at me, showing a frankly unnecessary amount of half-descended fang. With a few words under his voice to Drew, he led us over to a couple his own age, introducing them to Drew—and only Drew, not bothering with me at all—as John and Lillian Peterson, Victoria’s parents.

The conversation washed over me in little fits and starts, my heart pounding so hard my ears kept cutting out.

“…so glad to be able to introduce you to my mate,” Drew was saying, and chose that moment to tug his arm free and wrap it around me, pulling me close. “It’s good of you to come to visit to mark the occasion. We’re honored.”

Lillian’s hand clenched so tightly around her martini glass I thought she might shatter it.

“Human, eh?” John said, finally bothering to glance at me. “Unusual choice.”

“I’ve always believed in following my instincts,” Drew answered, more or less smoothly, before I could open my mouth. Thank God, because I wanted to get to the dinner table unmaimed. “You know how important following the old ways is to our family. The gods tell us our destiny, as long as we listen.”

I stared up at Drew, mouth agape. Where the hell had he gotten that unmitigated bullshit? I’d expected to find his eyes glowing and his fangs down, but somehow he’d kept it in check.

Silence fell.

Boyd’s face went purple, John raised his eyebrows, and Lillian made a sound like a wolf about to eat a human.

They didn’t seem to have an answer to that. Score one for Drew, even though the maiming now seemed a lot more imminent.

Rescue came from an unexpected source: a blond guy in nerdy wire-framed glasses, a few years older than me and maybe a little younger than Drew, who popped up at my elbow and said…something, maybe about the family company, which I still didn’t know anything about, maybe about Idaho or Virginia, but my head had started swimming.

The room blurred around me as Drew steered me away with a few polite words, maneuvering me across the room, past the dinner table, and behind one of the giant vase things, temporarily out of anyone’s sight.

As far as I could tell, at least. I couldn’t see more than a few inches beyond my nose, everything else lost in a haze of too much light and too much shiny stuff and too many werewolves, and…

Drew grabbed me by the shoulders, yanked me in, and kissed me, hard.

The rest of the world faded away completely as everything narrowed down to the pressure of his lips, the grip of his hands, the heat of his body against mine as he curved protectively around me.

Drew. I couldn’t feel anything but Drew. And even though I couldn’t take the pleasure in his kiss, in his hard, possessive touch, that I ought to have, that I longed to…it didn’t matter in that moment.

I needed him, and he had me in his arms, and nothing could hurt me when he kept me so close and desired me so passionately.

Because it really seemed like he did. His whole body had gone rigid with restrained need—and his cock had, too, stiff and demanding against my stomach.

I sank into it, letting Drew overwhelm me. Letting myself go. Clinging to him, my grip on his lapels probably ruining the perfect press of his tux, but who cared, God, when Drew wanted to kiss me like that…

“Why don’t you just mount him on the table and give us a show? I want to see what’s worth all this bullshit. He must have a fucking incredible ass.”

Drew broke the kiss and spun, shoving me behind him. I stumbled but caught myself by grabbing hold of his upper arm, peeking around his broad back to get a look at whoever that low, ugly drawl belonged to.

Another blond guy, it turned out, about Drew’s age and nearly as tall, lean and athletic and with a nasty smirk and faintly glowing eyes, blue beneath the gold.

Another alpha. Cousin Blake? The other blond must be his brother, the one who’d had the bad taste to disappoint his parents by coming out a garden-variety werewolf.

“Blake,” Drew snarled. “Stay the fuck away from him.”

Aaand Alyssa’s advice not to let Blake get to him had clearly been both necessary and futile.

“Don’t, Drew,” I whispered, knowing he’d hear me but hoping Blake wouldn’t. “It’s not worth it!”

Blake’s smirk went crooked, and his eyes flicked to me, malice glinting behind the alpha glow. Apparently he’d heard me. I resisted the urge to shrink down behind Drew and try to disappear.

“Neither are you,” he said.

Drew lunged, and I desperately pulled him back. Blake stepped forward, not back, claws gleaming at his fingertips, and…

Alyssa popped up from the other side of the giant vase, breathing hard, and flung herself in the middle.

Drew stopped dead, his bicep like iron under my fingers and his shoulders heaving.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Alyssa demanded in a low, urgent tone, barely loud enough for me to hear. Hoping the rest of the room didn’t notice, I figured, although good luck with that. “I told you not to let him—”

“Drew,” another voice interrupted, this one female, smooth, and cool enough to chill a glacier.

Victoria, I realized, as she followed Alyssa into our alcove and stood there with one hand on her hip and the other languidly waving a glass of champagne in Drew’s direction. I’d seen her across the room, chatting with Alyssa and the woman I had to assume, by process of elimination, was Drew’s aunt.

She’d seemed intimidating at a distance, Amazon-tall and with a figure like Marilyn Monroe.

Up close, I didn’t know what to gawk at first: her perfect blonde hair, her perfect crimson lipstick, her perfect lips…perfect everything, really, and all wrapped up in a slinky red dress that probably cost more than Drew’s mortgage.

“Nice to see you again, it’s been what, fifteen years?” she continued, completely ignoring the fact that she’d interrupted a brewing brawl with a sang-froid I couldn’t help admiring. “I’m glad to see one of the Castelli alphas grew up.”

She took a dainty sip of her champagne.

“Grew up what?” Blake demanded, taking a step toward her—trying to intimidate her, it looked like.

Victoria raised an eyebrow at him. “Grew up at all,” she said.

Alyssa let out a choked giggle, Drew relaxed a bit under my hand, and Blake stared, went white, and stomped off, nearly shoulder-checking Victoria on his way.

Silence fell.

The aftermath of way too much adrenaline made my mouth start moving before my brain could catch up.

“I didn’t know you all had known each other—I mean, I thought Drew had never met you or your parents,” I said. Yet another bit of information Drew had left out, and I wished it didn’t sting quite so badly.

Victoria turned her attention—and that formidable eyebrow—my way. “He’d never met my parents before. But we all saw each other in the summers at camp sometimes when we were kids. Victoria Peterson.”

She held out a long, slender hand for me to shake.

I realized she was the first one to bother.

God, I really didn’t want to like her.

I stuck out my own hand, having to shuffle out from behind Drew to do it. “Asher St—Castelli,” I stammered, remembering what Drew had said before I met his mother and correcting myself in the nick of time. “You can, um, call me Ash.”

“I’d do the same, but I hate both Vicki and Tori.” She smiled at me, the effect nothing short of devastating. Jesus fucking Christ. Drew wanted to run away with me—away from this? Was he brain-damaged? “You’re lucky you have a nickname that’s as cute as you are.”

“It’s good to see you too, Victoria,” Drew said, still sounding a little growlier than recommended for a dinner party. He edged his way back in front of me again, as if protecting me from the too-gorgeous, too-friendly alpha. Was I missing something?

“I’m not hitting on your mate, Drew, for heaven’s sake,” Victoria said, a ripple of laughter in her voice. “Get off your own knot for a minute and calm the fuck down.”

Hitting on your mate? I couldn’t possibly have been missing Drew being jealous, could I?

“Seriously, Drew,” Alyssa chimed in. “Victoria’s happy for you. I told her all about your whirlwind romance before you got here. We had a drink beforehand to catch up.”

I gave Drew a not-so-gentle nudge—because seriously, the one time I actually wanted to be a part of the conversation, and he had to hide me against the wall?—and craned my head around his arm in time to see the look Victoria gave Alyssa.

It could’ve melted graphite.

And then it twigged: Alyssa’s demand for gratitude, the dress that had to have been chosen with Victoria’s preferences in mind (and thinking about what her preferences had to be, based on that dress, broke my brain), Victoria’s friendly attitude.

Alyssa had thrown herself on the Victoria-grenade for our sake.

Victoria held out her hand, and Alyssa set hers in it, smirking at Drew—but blushing, and not like someone who didn’t like where their night was going.

Yeah, not much sympathy required for Alyssa’s noble sacrifice, I didn’t think.

“We’ll tell them it’s time for dinner,” Victoria said. “Sit next to me on the other side, Ash,” she added, leaning around Drew to make eye contact with me. “If Blake opens his mouth again, Drew and I can flip a coin to see who removes his testicles.”

And with that, the ladies swanned off, disappearing around the vase.

Drew turned to me, his eyes wide and his mouth a little slack. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered.

“Is it just me, or do they have us completely outclassed in every possible way?”

“Not just you,” Drew said, blowing out a long, shaky breath. And then his face lit up with a grin that outshone every bit of gilded nonsense in the room. He leaned down and murmured in my ear, “Victoria has her parents wrapped around her little finger. And if my uncle doesn’t like it, I’m over it. Fuck it. We’re home free, baby.”

His hand found mine, and our fingers tangled together. I gave him a squeeze. Drew’s lips brushed over the shell of my ear.

“Let’s eat dinner, get the hell out of here, and go home so I can get my knot inside you,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I whispered back. “Let’s.”

He led me out of our hiding place, and this time I didn’t have to force myself to smile.