Page 31 of Iris
“It’s obvious,” I say and step back. The more distance I put between us, the easier it is to concentrate on something besides my aching dick.
She looks partly offended by that, and it takes me by surprise.
“Do I look like I want to take part in this whole Mating Season thing?” she bites out.
“Actually, yes. Down to dressing the part.” I gesture to her dress and half pinned up hair.
Her eyes flash. “You’re an idiot.”
She still hasn’t noticed Xavier standing hidden in the corner…watching.
I barely control my smile. “Ouch. That’s harsh.”
“You’re not even that good looking.”
I start to laugh. “Quite the leap.”
This time, she jumps off the stool and walks right up to me, fearless. She tilts her chin up to meet my gaze head on. “Quite the ego. And no leap required. I’m pretty good at readingpeople like you.”
Oh man, she’s a brat. Using my own words against me.
“What? A business owner? An Alpha? Someone who wasn’t born with a silver spoon in their mouth?”
She sniffs. “A father who can’t keep an eye on their daughter.”
That one fucking stung. And apparently it struck Xavier, too, because he makes a low growly sound, which finally grabs her attention.
She sees him and freezes.
CHAPTER
TEN
Iris
I’m already trembling with a mixture of anger and arousal. I’m feverish and overwhelmed by unfettered scents in the air. The fresh and somehow erotic zing of blackberries infused with lemon is somehow tangled with freshly tanned leather and smoke.
I didn’t know anyone else was here. I didn’t know we were being watched.
I know that leather scent. My heartbeat speeds up with recognition the moment it hits my nose. And I know that mountainous man trying to blend in with the shadows.
He’s still big, still handsome, still silent.
Are all Alphas from this part of Sabine drop-dead gorgeous with a murderous edge?
I need to get out more.
“Oh, look,” I say. “Mr. Scarsby is with Mr. Asshole. Nice.”
Of course, I totally missed the opportunity to say lovers, boyfriends. Because…maybe they are. Maybe that radar in me is so off I’m not reading the room correctly.
But I cross my arms and hold my ground as I stare them both down.
“Mr. Scarsby?” he chuckles and glances at the man from across the room. “But Mr. Asshole was my father. I prefer Mr. Black. Killian Black.”
Black? Like the name of the bar?
Makes sense. Especially when coupled with his business owner comment before.
