Page 61 of Shaken Knot Stirred

“An auracle? Can you read betas, too?” That came from one of the potentials that Aria had interviewed for me.

“Oh, you,” Moxie said appraisingly. She grasped his wrist and held his arm out like she needed to get a better look. “A pack is not right for you right now.” She made a slow circle around him. “You need to discover who you are and what you want in your mates.” He put his hand to the small of her back, claiming her space.

Win and Aria stared daggers at me for my low growl. I downed my drink and leaned back on the bar for a refill.

It seemed the entire room was now circling Moxie as she took center stage. The two other paragons here were equally enchanted. Moxie flitted around bestowing diagnoses and prophecies.

“She’s a con artist.”The conversation with Houston floated back to me. She was a criminal. Raised by people who taught her how to scam money by being an auracle.

Was that what I was seeing here? Did the person who took her from the Delta Lounge put her up to this? Maybe because I had been blown up this morning or was already four whiskies deep,but I couldn’t figure this out. I absolutely knew for certain I did not like anyone else touching her.

I had one elbow on the bar and took a sip for my fresh drink. “What about my aura?” I cut her off mid-diagnosis of yet another person Aria was poised to throw at me.

Moxie clasped her hands together in front of her. Her entire demeanor softened with the look of kind pity on her face, as if she prepared to deliver bad news.

“Mr. Knightbridge. You’re simply not suitable for any sort of pack. You cannot have the one you love and I fear,” she paused, scanning me with her eyes from head to toe, “you would be cold and distant and removed from any potential packmate.”

Shocked murmurs rose up around us. I cracked a smile and used taking a sip of my whiskey to hide it. Aria gave her a deadly look. She might have just tanked my chances of taking any of these people into a pack.

“Moxie, Eric is here, shall we?” Aria effectively broke up this little party by ushering Moxie out of the center of the room.

Grayhouse. That fuck nut. There had always been rumors about him. He liked very young pretty things. I took a step to follow but was blocked by a wall of my brothers.

Win eyed me like he could see my aura now, too.

“An auracle would be a poor choice of a packmate for you.”

“Any omega would be a poor choice for me.” I turned my back on my brother, just so I could keep Moxie in my peripheral vision. I tapped my empty glass on the bar for a refill. Pay snatched the glass and moved it an arm’s distance away.

“Charles is not a bad idea, actually,” Pay said, trapping me between Win and the bar.

“Lawyer, right? What firm is he with?”

“No clue. But Hotel Pantheon will need a new General Counsel in 10 years or so. Enough time for him to learn the ropes.”

I let my brothers plan out the rest of my life. My brain was too full of ridiculous questions. How the hell did Moxie score an invitation here? This place wasn’t open to the public. There wasn’t even a guest list. And why was she here? Three days ago she’d been dragged kicking and screaming from her bar before it was set on fire. And now she was on the front lines of the high-stakes and competitive matchmaking game in Port Haven?

Suddenly, Moxie stood from the little huddle Grayhouse and Aria had created. He was clasping her fingers like he was loath to let her go. I could just imagine her sweet southern words as she excused herself. Her fake words, from her fake persona. She made her way across the room. A few people tried to snag her attention and she brushed them off with tiny waves, pointing to the hall where the omega lounge was. I waited three breaths before following.

“I’ll be right back.” I handed my drink to Pay and slid my hands casually in my pockets. I kept my head down so I wouldn’t be waylaid as I crossed the room. Putting my ear to the lounge door, I listened for the giggles and chit-chat that seemed to bubble up around all omegas before pushing the door open.

Moxie glowed in the soft light. This room was designed as a quiet oasis for paragons to slip away, fix their makeup, plan, scheme, and regroup in stunning luxury. Chaises and padded ottomans dotted the space, softly lit by the massive mirror. I knew you could program it to mimic daylight or the club’s lighting to ensure you looked flawless.

She snapped a locket shot and tucked it back into her dress before lifting her head. A brief nanosecond of panic flashed through her eyes.

“Mr. Knightbridge, this is highly unusual. You seem to have found yourself where you shouldn’t be.”

I took a step toward her, and she answered me with a retreating step. Silently, I stalked her across the soft carpet untilher ass hit the edge of the marble makeup table beneath the extravagant mirror. I put my palms to either side of her on the cold stone.

“Mr…”

I cut off her fake protests with my lips on hers. A moan shivered through her as her body responded, taking my tongue deep into her mouth.

She roughly pushed me back, breaking our contact so suddenly it hurt. A moment of calculation flashed across her face, and then I felt the sting of her palm slapping my cheek.

“How dare you? You don’t even know me.” Her breath came in pants. Small growls bubbled up from her. She dug her nails into my neck, pulling me down to her mouth again. This was much more desperate, from both of us.

She pushed me back again, using her elbow to protect the space between us.

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