Page 88 of Bad Enough

Dragging himself off the door jamb, he walked toward her. Like he was carrying a weight that was taxing. When he got to the other side of her desk, his attention was drawn to her glass paperweight, focusing on the rose that appeared to be floating inside of it. He picked it up and examined it closer.

“We need to go to The Library tonight. Another girl has gone missing. He’s escalating.” He set the paperweight down. “Flame… it will be dangerous. We have no right to ask this of you. But a replacement won’t pass. I swear, I will protect you with my last breath. Every one of my teammates will.”

“I know you will. I trust you.”

He was quiet for a few more moments, just staring at her. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then changed his mind. “Eight o’clock.” He turned and walked down the stairs.

She called out to him. “Should I wear anything in particular?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder from just outside the door at the top of the stairs. She could see his expression clearly in the lit hallway. She saw him consider before he answered her. “Something that might be a little out of character. We need to try and push this guy to make a move. And… wear your hair down.”

That is not for the stalker. That’s for him.

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll find something.”

Flame sat for a few moments, considering the upcoming evening. She had no idea what would happen, but maybe it would prevent other girls from being taken, and that in itself was more important than any problem between her and TB.

This was a calculated risk.

When Sylvan came down the stairs to leave for the club, she watched as TB nearly swallowed his tongue. It wasn’t her usual clothing style, so she’d definitely hit a bullseye.

Good. Two can play the seduction game for what we want.

He’d been one hundred percent correct when he’d analyzed her clothing choices and how they matched her home, something she’d never really thought about. And she knew he liked the funky mix of flowy and binding that was so much a part of her everyday world. Tonight, she still held her typical style, but the choices were all modern.

Up top, she wore a tight white leather jacket that closed with a shiny gold zipper. The jacket functioned much like a bustier would, with a two-inch gap between the bottom of it and the navy blue miniskirt. The zipper tab on the jacket hung open to expose most of the inner swells of her breasts.

The miniskirt hung low on her hips, like a pair of low-rise jeans. A double-strand gold chain ran around her midsection, just below her belly button. It seemed to draw his eyes to the skirt itself. The material was translucent and looked like layered handkerchiefs. If she didn’t have the satin cheerleader-style shorts underneath, it would never have covered her decently.

The skirt tails ended right at the curve of her ass cheeks, and then there was a huge expanse of exposed thigh before white thigh-high stockings that adhered to her thighs with pointed lace tops that ran unevenly around her legs in a flame pattern. On her feet, she wore high-heeled patent leather Mary Janes shining bright.

Her auburn hair was pinned up top, but the bulk of it flowed down her back in waves, reaching just shy of the end of her skirt.

She’d been going for a high school boy’s Catholic-school-girl fantasy come to life. Based on his stare, she might have surpassed her goal.

Forgive me, TB, for I have sinned…

She stood shyly, one foot on the bottom step, the other on the second, tipped up as if in mid-step, only the toe of the shoe on the stair. Her hand closest to the railing rested on top of the finial.

Slowly, he walked over to her, his eyes never leaving hers until he was directly in front of her.

“Both feet flat on the bottom stair, little Flame.”

Once she complied, his palms framed her hips, but the thumbs stroked the bare skin, and she shuddered at the slow movements back and forth. The room seemed to suddenly get brighter, which meant her pupils dilated, her eyes opening wide to adjust to the dimness of the hall as well as the arousal his touch was creating.

“Every man there is going to want a piece of you,” he breathed. He perused her face closely as if looking for something. Then his eyes dropped to her throat, and his hands moved to either side of her neck, the heel of his hands resting on her clavicle, the fingers going around her throat as if to squeeze it. But he didn’t. Instead, his thumbs stroked the hollow. “Guess I’ll have to mark you as off-limits. Don’t move,” he told her.

She nodded once.

He took two steps back, his hands letting go at the last possible second, and went to a box on the table. He opened it and removed the black leather collar inside it and brought it over to her. In the center, it had a silver wolf charm dangling from it.

“Nemo brought this over. It has a tracker inside it. That way if the absolute worst would happen, we could find you. Never take this off. Even when we’re away from the club, you wear it.”

A small shockwave went through the air as if his last two sentences were being overrun with extra meaning.

Gently, he turned her to prevent her from falling off the bottom step. He gathered her hair into a thick ponytail and put it over her shoulder, then buckled the collar. After testing the tightness by sliding his fingers between the collar and her skin, he moved her hair back to cover her back, then turned her once more.

His eyes rested on the collar, needlessly straightening what was already straight. A hand went under the charm, allowing it to lie against his fingertips.

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