Page 17 of Puck my Prey
No wait, that was his hands grazing my hips.
“Uh. I was going to powder my….something?” I peeked up at Valentine through my lashes, willing myself not to cower before him.
At work, I wore work makeup. I wore a work suit and, apart from my stint donning his jersey, I wore only Chimera appropriate clothing.
Right now, nothing about me was appropriate whatsoever. And I made that choice knowingly and willing when I stepped outside my door.
Suddenly, the oversized blonde curls, the cropped blue leather jacket zipped to my bust and my ice blue beaded mini dress with the deep v to my navel seemed like a really, really stupid idea.
Or maybe, from the way he surveyed my body in the slowest once over in history, possibly the most dangerous one.
“Do you really need to powder anything, Cora, or were you escaping?” Valentine asked in a low tone, though he blocked my path to the toilets.
“Escaping?” I squeaked my confession like a spring church mouse. “Still escaping,” I added hopefully in a more regular voice.
“No chance, Butterfly.”
His hand folded around my blue leather covered elbow, towing me back to the bar. Ward stood alone, no Peatie in sight, blessedly.
“Where’d your sidekick go?” I asked as Valentine released my arm and my voice returned to its usual volume.
Coach’s gaze slid between us, narrowing. “You ‘friend’ wandered off, talking to a chair.”
I frowned. “I don’t see a chair.”
Coach shrugged. “Neither could he.”
“That kinda night already, huh?” Valentine squeezed my arm again, and placed a bottle of water in front of me.
I tested the lid, smiling when I found it still screwed tight and uncracked. “Thank you.” I beamed at him.
“Wherever it takes. Who was your friend?” he asked curiously. “You have…interesting taste?”
I shrugged. “My media spy. Usually he feeds me interesting information but today he’s been a feature article in himself.” Peatie’s hangover in the morning would be of epic proportions. I didn’t envy the tomorrow version of himself, and I doubted he would either, if he had two brain cells that would rub together right now.
The club slowly filled, the Chimeras’ coach and Valentine blessedly creating a barrier around me.
“I think I'm supposed to be socializing,” I yawned, waving for a bartender.
Valentine’s frown was audible from where he stood a few feet back in an obvious attempt not to touch me in front of his coach. “I thought you weren’t drinking tonight.”
There was no judgement in his tone, simply a question, about my own judgement or my motives perhaps.
I sent him a bratty grin, wondering what he was like if I pushed him. Hey, a girl needed hobbies. Leaning forward, I cupped my hands to disguise my order and yelled into the bartender’s ear. I doubted Valentine heard me; the club’s volume took it up a notch the moment it turned eleven o’clock and well past all our bedtimes with a predawn start in a few hours.
Apparently Peatie wouldn't be the only one regretting tomorrow.
“What’s that about?” Valentine’s fingers traced the blue leather at my wrist.
Coach shook his head, muttering. “I’m going to bed. Don’t stay out late. Or go home together, for fuck’s sake. Next week, maybe,” he growled, glaring at us.
I laughed as my drink order arrived in a double shot glass.
Coach sent me a second exasperated look. Another was directed over my head I didn't bother to interpret, and walked away.
“Cora,” Valentine murmured in warning as I tested my shot glass and sighed.
I crooked a finger that I dipped into the dark, cold liquid. “Come here.” I wiggle the finger in the air, speaking to him loudly over the music as someone jostled me.
