Page 96 of The Delta's Rogue
“I don’t like this.” His hand curls around her hip and squeezes.
“None of us like it,” I reply.
“Sebastian wouldn’t have asked me to help if he didn’t need my aura-blocking ability,” Cassandra reminds him.
“And Cassandra wouldn’t have agreed to this if she was uncomfortable with it,” I add.
Nolan frowns more—if that’s possible—his hazel eyes still locked on her green ones. “What about what I’m comfortable with?”
I bite back a growl. “We’re all making sacrifices here, Nolan.”
He scoffs. “Easy for you to say. Your mate isn’t the one who will be showing off her lingerie-clad body to an entire club of degenerates.”
“Your mate wouldn’t need to if my… If Sarina wasn’t held captive by those same degenerates.” I stare at him pointedly.
He freezes, his breath halting in his throat.
I’ve yet to confess to any of them that I’m sure Sarina is my mate. Not that I need to. They may not have witnessed my initial meltdown after she left me without so much as a goodbye, but they saw how I reacted when Dominic brought us the news, saw the parallels between how it affected me and how losing Haven had forced Wesley into an early shift when he was twelve.
I catch Cassandra’s eye, and she presses closer to Nolan, her hand trailing down the sleeve of his black shirt to his forearm, where her fingers linger. They trace swirling lines across the fabric, dancing over where I know her name is inked into his skin.
He exhales and leans his head against the seat. “I’m sorry, Seb,” he mutters. “I’m just struggling with the thought of others seeing my mate almost naked while she submits to me in a public place, and…” He exhales again, leaving his sentence unfinished.
Cassandra’s lips twitch with a silent laugh. “We’ve done worse in a public place.” Her smile grows as Nolan growls at her in warning. “You didn’t seem to mind it then.”
I cover my mouth to hide my laughter.
“Daisy…” he says to her through his teeth.
Dominic snickers and drops his chin to his chest, avoiding my eyes. I do the same. If we look at each other, there’s no way we won’t break into hysterics.
Nolan spares us both a brief glare and turns his grumpy attention back to Cassandra. “We were alone—”
“And naked. And in a stairwell, where anyone could have walked in at any moment,” she points out. Her head angles to the side, a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, and he arches a brow at her. She leans in closer, undoing one more button on his shirt. “Maybe there is a little exhibitionist in you after all.”
Dominic coughs into his fist.
The limo veers to the side of the street, pulling up to the curb and slowing to a full stop.
Nolan’s hand slides up to Cassandra’s neck. “I think I would feel better if your mark was visible.” His eyes lock onto that sensitive spot where her mating mark would normally be visible to warn others that she already has a mate. “I don’t like that no one can see it.”
“That’s what the choker is for.” I jerk my chin towards the thin gold chain clasped around her neck that doubles as a collar and an enchanted trinket to mask her mating mark—a necessary part of our plan if we want to convince Nuncio and anyone else we meet that we’re cut from the same cloth as them, that we use females in the same way they do. “For a Dom and their submissive, a choker indicates ownership. It’s the closest thing they have to a mating mark.”
He grunts his response and tugs Cassandra onto his lap so she faces him, her legs straddling his thighs. His hand wraps around her neck as his eyes stay locked on hers, a silent conversation passing between them.
“Give us a moment,” he says without tearing his gaze from his mate.
I shake my head but exit the vehicle, straightening the collar of my navy-blue suit jacket as I round the hood of the limo, Dominic right behind me. The club’s façade comes into view. I cross my arms, staring at the bright neon lights of the signage—The Wolf’s Lair—and the burly bouncers stationed behind the velvet ropes at the entrance.
“Are you sure about this?” Dominic peers over his shoulder at the pitch-black limo windows. “About Nolan, I mean. Can he keep it together?”
“He’ll be fine,” I reassure him. “He already has Dom tendencies. He’s just never realized that’s what they were. It’s the exhibitionist bit that has him tied up in knots.”
Dominic shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet. “She doesn’t have to do much. Only what they’re—she’s—comfortable with.”
“He knows that. I’ve been over that with both of them. He just needs to get his possessiveness out of the way”—I angle my head behind me to the limo—“and then he’ll relax into the role.”
“I hope you’re right. We need her ability.” He shifts his attention towards the club, eyeing the flashing lights.
