Page 11 of Viper

Jester lifted his shoulders. “So I’m wrong?”

“No. But I don’t need you to be my voice.” Razor potted the black ball, ignoring Ghost’s curse. “Instead of getting on Viper’s case, convince that asshole over there not to buy a goddamn superhero suit.”

His eyes dancing, Ghost twirled his pool cue between his fingers. “You’re just jealous that, unlike you, I’d look good in spandex.”

Razor gifted him a flat look. “Yeah, that’s exactly it,” he deadpanned.

“Can we focus, please?” Jester demanded.

Ghost’s brow pinched. “On what?”

“Me,” Jester replied.

“Uh, okay, narcissist.” Ghost turned to Darko. “He’d make a good cult leader, too.”

“You know, I was thinking the exact same thing,” said Darko.

Jester ground his teeth. “I hate you all.”

Ghost smiled. “That’s nice.”

Shaking his head, Jester refocused on Viper. “I get that you’d rather see to our current problem first so she doesn’t get caught in any crossfire. But I don’t see a need for it; she’s unlikely to get touched by it. It’s humans who are being snatched, not demons.”

Viper guzzled down some beer. “I don’t want to take any chances. Not with her.”

“But you can’t keep chasing off every guy who shows interest in her.”

Yeah? Watch me.

“She hasn’t noticed it’s happening yet, but she will.”

“Probably.” Viper found his attention zipping back to Ella. Their gazes clashed, making his insides seize. Her inky blue eyes narrowed slightly as a line creased her brow. Probably because he was blatantly staring at her. But fuck if he could avert his gaze.

She didn’t look tired today, which was good. Too often lately she’d seemed fatigued. He didn’t like that she might not be getting the sleep she needed, but it wasn’t his place to do anything about it yet. At least not in her view.

The waitress materialized at her table, blocking his view of Ella; breaking their connection.

“You sure you’re not just stalling because you’ve got it in your head that you don’t deserve her?” asked Omen. “Because that’d be dumb.”

Viper frowned at him. “I’m no martyr. And I’m not stalling. I’m simply intent on not risking her. I’ve waited this long—I can hold out a little longer.” Maybe.

His entity snorted, confident it could tempt him into acting much sooner. Honestly, it probably could. Viper supposed they’d soon see.

Placing her food order, Ella beat back the heat that tried rising to her cheeks. It wasn’t so easy to ignore the way her skin tingled in awareness, however. Having that compelling blue gaze drilling into her—something that had happened on a number of recent occasions—seriously messed with her composure.

Once the waitress melted away, Ella lifted the bottle of beer that her sister had earlier ordered for her. “He reminds me of someone.”

Leaning back in the chair across from her, Mia slanted her head. “Who does?”

“Viper, the president of the Black Saints.” Ella had seen him from a distance many times. Each occasion they made eye contact, she had that nagging sense of familiarity. “I can’t think who he reminds me of,” she groused, planting her elbow on the table as she put the tip of her bottle near her mouth. “It’s probably a celebrity.”

Mia hummed. “Dark and dangerous generally doesn’t get my engines running, but it must be said that he’s hot as a motherfucker.”

“Actually, youdolike ‘dark and dangerous’.”

“Correction, then: I tend to avoid guys like that because I’ve had bad experiences with them in the past.”

Ella’s eyes unconsciously tried straying back to him. Ugh, it washisfault. The big, indecently attractive bastard loped around dropping a sexual candy trail of pheromones, testosterone, and unbridled alpha energy. Ella was not immune to it. Or him. Which she very much blamed on her obsession with biker romance novels.

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