Page 17 of Wicked Pursuit

I blink. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what. I’ll butcher anyone you let touch you. And I’malwayswatching, Red. Anyone gets to fuck you, it’s going to be me. You fuck someone else, I’m going to take it poorly.”

“That’s a shame. Because I have a gorgeous escort coming up here to rock my world.”

He’s silent for a beat, as if I’ve surprised him. “An escort. You mean?—”

I hang up. It’s petty and will no doubt incite him, but... I like it. That feeling I’ve been chasing ever since the reckless decision to fuck Rafe is back, and it’s stronger than ever. I feel at home in my body, my adrenaline racing, my skin sensitized.

Tatiana comes to stand at the railing. She’s got two lowball glasses in her hands, and she presses one into mine, standing a little too close. “For you.”

I raise my brows but lift it to my lips all the same. It’s a bad idea to take an open drink from someone I don’t know, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m in motion, and nothing can stop me now. “Thanks.”

She mirrors my move, sipping the liquor at the same time. It burns down my throat, but her expression gives no indication that she’s choking on fire right now. She looks even better up close, her skin luminous and her long dark hair just messy enough to suggest someone was running their fingers through it. Maybe her. Maybe someone else.

“What is this?” I hold up the glass and swirl the amber liquid.

“Macallan 1946.”

I blink. “Do you know how expensive those drinks are?”

Tatiana laughs, the sound low and sinful. “Honey, I drink them regularly, so yes, I am aware. I was... touched... by your offer to buy me a drink.” She sinks enough innuendo into the word “touched” to drown the whole club in lust.

I’m not immune. I don’t want to be. I lean in and get a hint of her perfume: something spicy and just as tempting as every other part of her. “So, do you come here often?”

“You can do better than that. I clocked you the moment you came through the door, but that doesn’t mean you can get away with giving me less than your A game.” She trails her long red nails on my bare arm. “I like the dress.”

“Oh yeah?” I’m having a hard time drawing a breath.

“Mm-hmm.” Her nails reach the sleeve of my dress and drag over the seam until she’s brushing her knuckles against my throat. “I play the game for a living. When it comes to my off time, I prefer to be direct. I saw you and I wanted you. I think you want me too.”

I can’t tell if this is happening too fast or at exactly the right pace. I can’t even blame the alcohol; I’m barely buzzed. “You’re forward.”

“Life is too short to be anything but what you truly are. Don’t you think?”

She’s not saying anything I haven’t thought, and recently, but there’s a part of me that still hesitates. Worst of all, I knowwhyI’m hesitating. Wolf. Not even because he’s threatened to bathe the club in the blood of anyone who touches me. There’s a connection there, and I don’t know what it means. He’s claimed me, but that doesn’t mean I’mhis. We’re not dating. We’re sure as fuck not exclusive, murder of Rafe or no.

No. Damn it,no. I’m not going to let my fucking stalker decide what I will or won’t do.

It still feels a little like a betrayal to lean into Tatiana’s touch. Her smile widens. “You want to get out of here?”

That’s a bad idea. One even I know better than to give in to. I don’t know this woman, and for better or worse, I am who I am. She could lead me right into a trap... or I could do the same to her, courtesy of Wolf.

I lick my lips. “Why don’t we sit and chat for a bit?”

Her smile twists as if I’ve disappointed her. “Sure, baby, whatever you want.”

Baby.

It’s a common enough pet name, but something about the way she says it feels almost pointed. I clear my throat. “Don’t call me that.”

Instantly her expression softens. “Oh. Sorry. Of course. Do you have an issue with pet names in general or that one specifically?”

“That one.” More information is on the tip of my tongue, but giving it would once again feels like I’m accepting Wolf’s claim on me. I’m not. Truly, I’m not.

“How about I call you ‘lovely,’ then? You certainly fit the bill.” She finally drops her hand, and I have to stop myself from grabbing her wrist and placing it back on my throat.

“That works,” I manage.

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