Page 22 of Crescent Warrior

He scowled, annoyed by the thought, but let her lead him to where his mate was, sitting in her SUV on her phone. She glanced up at them, her gaze dipping to where Ambrosia was still clutching his hand before looking at her phone once more. At first, it seemed not to affect her at all, but he saw the subtle tightening of her jaw and he grinned.

You don’t like it when other females touch me, do you, my Lyta?

He disentangled his fingers from Ambrosia’s.

“Sit in the back and compliment her,” she murmured, canting her head toward the back. “But don’t say stupid shit like ‘beautiful’. Tell her how sexy she is.”

Sorely wishing he had an hour to sit with Ambrosia so he could take notes, he nodded, yanking the door open and sitting before his mate could say otherwise.

“I’m bringing Cole with us,” Ambrosia announced, somewhat redundantly. “He’s probably never been to an American party.”

“I’ve only ever been to family parties in Greece as well,” he grinned, his eyes tracing his mate’s bare shoulders lovingly. “This is bound to be an experience I’ll never forget.”

Green eyes met his in the rearview mirror and he grinned back at her, removing the blood-soaked napkin from his nose.

“Lyta, why did you break Cole’s nose anyway?” Ambrosia asked, glancing over at her.

“I did? How rude of me,” she stated, in a deadpan voice while clutching the wheel and driving off toward the front gates.

Cole felt warmth spread in his chest. Her wit was always his favorite thing about her. When they were younger, they would laugh together for hours. Since she left, he wasn’t able to find humor in anything. He reached forward to trail his finger across her bare back.

“You are the sexiest female I’ve ever seen.”

She peered at him in the rearview mirror as if he had gone insane. “Don’t touch me.”

Her words were serious but her tone was confused and a little vulnerable. He glanced at Ambrosia in time to see her smother a smile behind her hand.

Why can’t I just hate him the way I need to?

Hippolyta pulled into a parking spot in front of the house of one of their long-time police contacts. It was his brother’s birthday and she was invited. She knew that he found her sexually attractive, but he never acted inappropriately with her. It was one of the reasons they were still friends.

Leaving the car, she took a quick look at Cole and rolled her eyes. His nose was almost fully healed, but there was a bloodstain on his pale blue shirt. Sighing, she opened her trunk, checking the size before pulling a new shirt out of one of the garment bags she kept there. Her packmates and cousins were an unruly bunch, so she was always prepared for situations where they would find themselves dirty or bloody.

She held it out to him wordlessly and he grinned at her, his white teeth flashing despite the bruising on his face, making her insides melt with heat. He was always smiling when they were younger. She used to loved that about him.

She looked away, knowing that, from the gossip she heard over the years, he hadn’t been that way since she left. He joked with everyone else, but they always said he was too serious for his own good.

Did I have a part to play in that?

Swallowing back the guilt, she wasn’t prepared for him to start unbuttoning his shirt where they stood. Her eyelids fluttered and her breathing shallowed as he stood shirtless—and glorious—in front of her.

The muscles of his broad shoulders made her mouth water with the need to mark him. She took in the rolling swells of his biceps and arms, feeling saliva pool in her mouth. Her eyes trailed down from his thick neck to his chest, covered in a light layer of hair, bulging with strength.

His abs were utter perfection and she swallowed hard, wishing she could sink her teeth into them. Unable to stop herself, her gaze dropped to the silky trail of hair that disappeared into his pants and the bulge that was making itself known under the material.

“Lyta,” he groaned, about to move toward her.

In self-defense, she slapped the shirt against his chest and turned away, seeing Ambrosia eyeing them with amusement.

“Are you two okay over there?” she called.

“Fine,” Hippolyta muttered, hurrying to the front door of the house. Ringing the doorbell, she pasted on a smile as the door was opened, revealing a smiling ball of blond enthusiasm.

“Lyta,” Brandon called, pulling her into a hug with his brawny arms. “I thought you were going to call and cancel on me when I didn’t see you earlier. You’re usually the first one here.”

“I brought guests,” she said, tight smile in place as she pointed behind her.

My aroused mate is near another male.

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