14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Twenty minutes later, Remmus' jaw dropped to the floor when he got his first eye-full of the she-wolf's ‘date look'. Ava was all dolled up and gingerly tugging at the hem of a short leather skirt.

Beside her, Cortana said something about man-eating and manipulation, then gave her several tips for working the crowd.

"Eyes up here, Raeth." Snapping her fingers, Ava drew his gaze to hers. "You've heard of death by a thousand cuts? How about death by a thousand gerbil bites?"

Remmus hissed. "Ouch. Good thing I'm inked."

"What does being inked have to do with it?"

"Hides the bite marks."

He didn't miss Ava's frown, and he instantly knew he'd revealed something he shouldn't have. Desperate to keep her mind off what he'd said, he playfully tugged up the hood of her jacket, gathering her cascading hair in front of her. Every muscle in her body locked.

"Put it down."

He immediately did as she asked, taken aback by the seriousness in her voice. Remmus stared at her quizzically. "I didn't meant to—"

"I know." Abrasive, Ava shifted away from him. "I don't like hoods."

He gave her an apologetic grimace. "It's raining out. Didn't want you to get wet."

Tension ebbed from her shoulders, and he was gifted a tight smile. "Sorry. Ghosts of the past and all that."

"Don't worry, Blondie." He winked. "I can be your ghostbuster."

"Is everything a joke to you?"

"Not everything. I take eating very seriously."

A smile quirked on her lips that she made every attempt to hide. Remmus extended his hand to her. "Shall we?"

As soon as their hands interlocked, a tickle of electricity sparked between them and fluttered around his stomach. If Ava felt the same, she gave no indication before he sucked them into the ether and spit them out in downtown Denver. Since Remmus had never been to the bar they were heading to, he'd gone to the closest place he had a teleport lock: a five-star restaurant. No surprise there.

One taxi ride later, they arrived at the bar. "Okay, Ava. You play the leggy blonde with a chip on her shoulder. Go ahead and get into character." Miming his hands as though they were a camera, he focused on her ‘close up.' With absolutely no change in her posture, Remmus declared, "Perfect."

Ava rolled her eyes for the thousandth time that evening.

It delighted him. "Even better. I like your craft, Ava. Now, I can either play the sexy bad boy or the dotting boyfriend." He paused for her reaction: a glare. "No? How about both? Work with me, wolf."

But she did not, in fact, work with him.

She took great pleasure in rebuffing his efforts even when he looped an arm around her waist like he'd been doing it for years. He basked in her warmth as he pulled her into his body.

As they strolled through the chilly parking lot, Remmus whispered, "I think I've figured you out."

"Oh, have you?"

"A clanless Raeth stole your last bowl of Lucky Charms," he said, "and you decided we weren't magically delicious?"

"What can I say? Deliciousness is highly important in our line of work."

Remmus hummed in contentment, when Ava leaned into him of her own accord before they stepped through the dingy bar door.

Neon lights were hung along masonry walls, haphazardly placed, and lacking any decorative instinct. What he could only assume were regulars were perched on barstools around a u-shaped counter, none of them looking up upon their entrance.

Remmus sobered, his attention spearing around the room. The smell of sweat, beer, and regret lingered. Beside him, Ava was doing a bang-up job of being the biker chick to his sexy bad boy. Her leather skirt, worn dangerously short, matched his jacket. Though it hadn't been intentional—at least on his part—he appreciated the aesthetic.

They took a booth near the back.

He cringed as his hands pressed into a sticky substance on the table's surface, but instead of sliding in opposite Ava, he took the seat beside her. His actions instantly earned him a scowl.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"My job," came his muttered reply. "I can see the entire bar better from here. And since I'm your fake boyfriend tonight, I should probably do this."

Lowering his face, he pressed his lips in the sensitive curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. The she-wolf's sudden intake of breath meant he'd hit the right spot. Slowly, his mouth trailed a path up the slender column of her neck like a lover, barely resisting the urge to sink his teeth into the tender flesh.

When her hand came up and gingerly cradled the side of his face, encouraging him, Remmus didn't know who was more shocked: her or him.

Telepathically, he asked her one question: Are you playing along, Ava, or have I turned you to the dark side?

A pinch on his leg was her only reply. While the majority of wolves could receive telepathic communication, not all of them could respond. Whether or not Ava was able to still remained a question.

I'll take that as an actress in her element.

Though his mouth continued worshipping her skin, Remmus' telepathy burst outward to take a psychic sweep of every person in the bar. What he found wasn't surprising. Several drunkards were present, one sleeping off a bender in the booth next to them, and two slightly intoxicated patrons playing pool. The handful of regulars were too consumed by their own pain to have even noticed their display.

With his history, it'd been a wonder Remmus hadn't ended up in a similar state. Jolting out of the wayward thought, he placed one more kiss on the base of Ava's neck and straightened beside her.

"Thanks Blondie." Then, quieter, he said, "Our guy is playing pool in the corner. Shall we go over and introduce ourselves?"

She nodded, and they soundlessly sidled out of the booth. Grabbing a beer for himself and the cocktail Ava ordered, they waltzed toward the pool tables.

That's when Ava turned on the charm. Within five minutes, the two human men playing pool were left drooling over her like a dog with a bone. Orren Johansen, their mark, was a single forty-something who needed a good shave and an entirely new wardrobe. He reeked of bad breath and unfulfilled dreams.

After concentrating on his psychic signature, Remmus heard every thought that came into Orren's mind. Human psychic shields were paper thin, easily moved aside for reconnaissance purposes and replaced upon retreat.

Like many men faced with a stunning woman, Orren's lust-filled fantasies were creepily obvious and focused on Ava.

Teeth grating together, Remmus barely tempered the growing fury within his blood. When his nails began to bite into his palm, he had to consciously uncurl his fingers to steady the cue. Focusing on something different, he let his competitive nature come out to play: he sunk every ball.

With a smug grin, he looked up from his victory to find Orren's paws all over Ava. One hand rested on her hip while he stole into her personal space as though they were the greatest of friends. They were deep in conversation, and Ava looked eagerly enthralled by whatever story the male was spinning.

All Remmus could think was mine.

Every instinct roared to life, compelling him to close the distance between them and yank the wayward human off her. Protective jealousy swarmed him in such potency it threatened to suffocate him, and he instantly lost his concentration on maintaining his tap into Orren's thoughts.

His escalating temper must've shown on his face because as soon as Ava locked eyes with him, she emitted a very clear warning: stay away.

It snapped him out of whatever rage he'd fallen into. Sharpening chalk on the end of the pool cue, he let Ava continue her play. Remmus had no idea where his wrath had come from, or why he had nearly been incited to violence.

A jeer from the other player had his attention refocusing on a new game, and he lost himself in the opening break and resulting ball placement.

It took conscious effort not to look in Ava's direction. For the remaining ten minutes she lingered with Orren in a dark corner, he refused to cave. Remmus made small talk with the other pool player and commented idly about the weather and which beer he preferred.

When Ava's delicious citrus scent wafted toward him mixed with the not-at-all-subtle hints of Orren's stench, he nearly broke the pool cue. He stiffened as the impulse seared through his veins and tried to rein in his temper.

"Let's go, my love," came Ava's sultry voice. "I'm tired and my feet hurt."

Remmus didn't take any further prompting. Though he knew she was neither of those things, he couldn't shake the odd feelings of territoriality that'd settled over him.

His hand locked around hers and then he all but dragged her to the exit. Once they were out of eyesight, he turned on her and swathed her in his arms, teleporting them both back to the den.

Dizziness made dots appear on the edges of his vision as they manifested, but he shook his head to clear it. Regardless of their safety within pack territory, when their feet met solid ground, he didn't let her go. She didn't glance up to confirm her surroundings and remained focused on him.

"He had his hands all over you."

"I know."

"I would've never gone along with it if I'd known that's where tonight would end up."

The words were like tar in his throat, throttling him while he was gasping for air, and he swallowed against the noxious urge to vomit. No amount of information was worth compromising her.

Her hands came up to fold behind his back, the touch tentative and bold at the same time. "I know, Remmus."

"I can't get that image out of my head," he admitted, and to his shame, he buried his head in her neck to replace Orren's scent with his own.

"It's over. I wasn't exactly pleasant for me either, but I didn't realize it would affect you so much."

He pulled away from her, grimacing. "I'm sorry for putting you in that situation to start with. Being disturbed is the least of what I deserve."