Page 5 of Horns for the Holidays

The word thundered through me, drowning out everything else. The clamor of the dining room faded to a dull roar. My vision tunneled until all I could see was her.

Her scent. Gods, herscent.It filled my lungs, set my blood on fire. Like vanilla coffee and jasmine and... something uniquelyalive.

Mate.

My knees nearly buckled as the full force of the mate bond slammed into me. Every instinct screamed to gather her close, to bury my face in the crook of her neck and breathe in that intoxicating scent. To mark her as mine for all to see.

“What the hell?” Sad confusion laced through her voice as she picked at the hem of her blouse. “Are you so afraid I’ll pelt you with a bread roll that you had to steal my ammunition?”

I blinked, struggling to process her words. I dropped my eyes, finally registering the splattered remains of her dinner decorating the floor between us.

Oh. Shit.

A bright red stain spread across the front of her crisp white blouse. Marinara sauce, my brain supplied unhelpfully. The urge to lick it off warred with mortification.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I opened my mouth. Closed it. What could I possibly say?

Somewhere nearby, a camera shutter clicked.

No. Fuck no. This couldn’t happen here.

I glanced around wildly, taking in the sea of expectant faces and raised cell phones. The crowd watched us with bated breath, waiting for my next move. Waiting for a show.

“Ah, Kotos! Ms. Scanlon! So good of you to join us!”

Andreas’ booming voice cut through the tension like a knife. He snapped his fingers at a nearby server, barking rapid-fire instructions in Greek. The poor kid scrambled to clean up the mess at our feet.

Wait. Ms. Scanlon?

My eyes widened as the final piece clicked into place. This wasn’t just some random resort guest. This was Laramie Scanlon. My employee. The marketing genius I’d brought to help close the deal with Andreas.

Fuck me sideways with Poseidon’s trident.

I’d berated my mate. Threatened to have her thrown out. And now she was covered in pasta sauce, glaring at me like she’d love nothing more than to introduce my balls to something far more painful than citrus.

The fates were laughing their asses off right now. I just knew it.

I stared at her, drinking in every detail. Auburn hair twisted into a professional knot. Green eyes that sparked with annoyance. Those enticing freckles trailing down the column of her throat—a throat I suddenly wanted to bite and suck and cover in bruises.

“Oh, my dear, oh dear,” Andreas tutted, eyeing the stain on Laramie’s blouse. “This is the gods telling you not so professional, not here. Relax! Enjoy yourself!”

Laramie’s smile was so strained I thought her face might crack. “Of course, Mr. Vasilakis. I’ll do my best.”

I made a mental note to have a new outfit sent to her room. Maybe several. Did she prefer dresses or pants? What was her favorite color? I needed to know everything about her.

My cock twitched as I imagined what lay beneath that soft material. Perky tits, dusky nipples, creamy skin...

Was her pussy equally perfect? Tight and slick, ready for my tongue? Was she bare, or would I find curls dusted with copper to match her hair? Would she moan my name as I lapped at her?

Stop it.

She was my employee. There were boundaries. Rules. I couldn’t just...

But she was my mate.

Dammit.

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