Page 9 of Claimed By the Damned

Even amongst the people, Knox could easily smell her, and ever since he got his first whiff of her, he’d been hard as a rock. His cock had been straining against the waistband of his jeans all damn day. No amount of fucking his hand last night had sated him.

In a way, Amara should thank him because it was taking all of his self-control to not bend her over the barstool they were passing and make good on his promise to fuck her in front of everyone.

But, instead of giving in to his urges, he wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her farther inside, gripping her hard so that she didn’t wander off in another direction.

He spotted Drake at a booth – their booth that had little light and a view of the entire place – and steered them in that direction. Usually, Drake had a chick on his lap by now, but instead, he was alone and sipping from a bottle of beer. When he caught sight of them, his eyes darkened, and he scowled at Amara.

“Look who we found,” Zeke announced as all three of them slid into the booth. Knox and Zeke had Amara sandwiched between them, and though she looked mildly uncomfortable with the hostile look Drake was giving her, she didn’t protest their closeness.

Drake turned his expression to Zeke. “What happened to staying away from her?”

He talked like she wasn’t even here, and that made Knox’s blood boil. In a split second, his good mood turned into barely contained rage.

“That was your rule, not mine,” Knox growled as he leaned over and nipped at Amara’s ear.

“If my being here is a problem, I can always go,” Amara said, eyes darting around the bar nervously. She wasn’t their usual customer. She was not dressed for this kind of place in her frilly sundress, making her stand out like a rabbit among wolves.

Little bunny, indeed.

“The fuck you are,” Knox replied possessively in her ear. Like hell was she leaving now that they’d convinced her to come with them.

She shivered as his breath caressed her ear, making a grin spread across his face.

Drake shook his head in obvious disgust. He didn't say a word as he grabbed his drink and climbed out of the booth. The three of them watched as he moved to an empty table across the room.

“He . . . he really doesn’t like me, does he?” Amara asked quietly.

“It’s not you that he hates,” Zeke answered. “He doesn’t like the idea of you.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Knox added. “The longer that he’s a rogue, the more bitchy he gets. You get used to it.”

“This isn’t going to work unless he accepts it though,” she pointed out. Knox didn’t like the disappointment in her tone.

Zeke bumped his shoulder with hers. “He’s someone you have to give some time to. His past . . . He’ll come around. He always does.”

He wasn’t wrong. They all had a past, each one different from the other. Drake may have his reasons, but that still didn’t make him any less of an ass in the situation they found themselves in. If Knox hadn’t seen Drake as a brother, he would have reached across the table and dug one of his eyes out for looking at Amara the way he had.

“So, um,” Amara began, changing the subject. “How long have you guys been rogue? Were you born that way?”

Knox stiffened a little. He didn’t like talking about his past, but for the sake of making her more comfortable, he grunted out, “Born that way.”

She looked over at him, and her face softened as she gently touched his leg. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Knox. I was just curious. Like I said, I have no issues with rogue shifters.”

His jaw flexed, but he knew she meant well. “I was raised rogue by my father.”

A tendril of hair fell from behind her ear as she shook her head. “You don’t have to say anything else if it makes you uncomfortable. I was just trying to make conversation. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not great at this kind of thing.”

He shifted in his seat a little. “There’s nothing more to say on the matter. Born rogue, raised rogue, still rogue. What about you, Zeke? Tell your story.”

Zeke studied him for a moment, knowing Knox was deflecting, before he cleared his throat. They both knew there was a lot more to that story, but Knox never liked to talk about it. Everyone called him the crazy one, and though it was true, he was made that way.

“I was part of a pack but decided to leave when my best friend left.”

“Oh yeah?” Amara said, shifting a little more in his direction. She started to lift her hand from Knox’s thigh, but a quick tug on her wrist kept her hand there. “Where’s your best friend now?”

Both Knox and Zeke looked across the room at Drake.

Amara followed their line of sight and let out a slow breath. “Oh. I see. What’s his story then?”

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