Page 41 of Mated Exile

Turning his arm over, he draws his hand down onto my palm where it was touching him, and squeezes my fingers. "You had your reasons for being self-involved. I don't take it personally. Most people don't introduce themselves with twenty questions. I just have the unfair advantage that I already knew quite a bit about you."

"Yeah." Glancing around the room, I feel trepidation as I realize just how many people are here, and how much they already know about me. "Everyone has that advantage over me. But they don't know the version of me you've spent time with. They only know that teenage girl her father didn't want. As far as they know, I'm still shiftless and exiled."

"Let's fix that now." He draws me away from the bar, picking up his drink and holding it to his lips. "A little liquid courage, add time, and they'll know you even better."

I laugh a little. "Bottom's up!"

We both finish our drinks, then turn towards the room, my heart racing from the touch of his hand on mine. Studying the crowd, I spot a few familiar faces, including one of my classmates who graduated school a few years before me, an English teacher, and one of the workers at the hardware store. Taking a deep breath, I consider them—then turn back to the bar hastily.

"A little more liquid courage," I tell Finn.

"Alright." His hand leaves mine, and I have to hide my disappointment, even as he reaches out to take the menu. Frowning at it, he raises a brow. "Most of these drinks are too fruity to down quickly. Shots?"

"Tequila," I answer quickly. "With salt and lime."

"Sounds like a plan."

The bartender brings us two shots a salt shaker and two fresh slices of lime. Thanking her, I pull my tequila shot towards me then glance at the shaker, and suddenly feel bold. Grabbing it, I upturn the salt onto my wrist, down my shot, then lick the salt off slowly.

I feel Finn's eyes on me with the motion, taking me in—and they widen a little as I put my salt on my wrist and hold it out to him.

"Care for a lick?" I ask coyly, waiting for the brush of his lips.

The moment hangs in the air.

Hopefully I'm not about to make a fool of myself in public.

Eighteen

Delilah

For a moment I think it won't work, but he hastily grabs his shot, downs it, and leans forward. My breath hitches as he delicately takes my wrist in his fingers, his warm touch gentle on my skin. Leaning forward, he parts his lips and brushes his tongue against me, feather-light, taking the salt in his mouth. His eyes glance up to meet mine, the heat in them undeniable.

Just like the heat that pools between my thighs, reminding me of our brief dalliance in my bedroom, and all the things wedidn'tget around to doing.

As he breaks away, I feel the ghost of his breath against my damp skin, and shudder. We're in far too public a place for me to do what I want to with him, especially considering all the risks and entanglements involved, but I still feel daring.

So I bite down on the lime, suck some of its sourness into my mouth, and take a step forward.

Finn dips his head down and drops his hands to my waist, drawing me to him. In a husky voice he asks, "Did you pregame without me?" Shaking his head, he adds, "Never mind. Seizing the opportunity."

His mouth swoops down to mine, parting my lips with his. I let his tongue dip inside me and press against the sourness on my lips. He swoops inside my mouth and tilts his head, fingers drawing me in. My hands curl against his chest and I shudder a little, not only from the heat of the alcohol and the tang of the lime. It only takes a moment for the taste of it to leave my tongue, Finn's taste taking over, dominating all my thoughts.

Then he breaks away, a smirk curling up his mouth, lopsided and daring. "That was wonderful, but I do think we might draw an audience if we go as far as I'd like." He drops a soft kiss on my nose, his hand palming my lower back and shooting heat and desire through me. "Next time, I'm taking you to the fancy bar."

"Is it a private bar?"

He chuckles. "Tempting, Delilah. If you're not careful we're going to wind up doing something that'll get us in trouble. Not that I'd mind—but I think you might."

I wince a little and admit, "It would really, really suck to be matedthenexiled from the pack."

"Pesky pack magic." He draws his hands back from my waist and brushes a kiss to my forehead. "You know, I was fifteen when I was brought here, so I did a good deal of my growing up around the pack. Even then I didn't get how puritan it was, or why, until I saw my first bonded pair break up. Then I started to understand."

Wincing a little, I point out, "It's pretty tough to divorce someone who's felt your deepest emotions and heard your loudest thoughts."

"Tell me about it. Even when the mate bond isn'tthatstrong, it's still not the kind of thing anyone should enter into lightly. And to think—sex with someone you've bonded with just a little carries that risk."

"It's enough to make werewolves figure out how to have sex indelightfullycreative ways," I admit, cheeks heating as I think about what Kieran and Ialmostdid, and the mate bond we could now be under because of it. "There were entire classes in middle school about ways to get intimate with your intendedwithoutit turning into sex, but most years, many of the pairs who made it to the Mating Circle were at least half-bonded. It was always a headache when the intendeds broke up between their fourteenth and eighteenth birthdays."

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