Page 17 of Rejected Mate

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ashislipspressedagainst mine, a shiver raced down my spine.

Ares is kissing me.

One minute, I’d been trying to thwart our enemies by yelling their secrets on live television. The next, Ares’s hard body was aligned with mine, one hand on my waist and the other behind my head as his lips explored mine. Tingles exploded across my skin as every sense took him in, and I responded to the kiss without even thinking. I pressed a hand to his chest, and his pec tightened in response. He tasted of red wine and smelled like spicy, intoxicating cologne. His lips were soft but firm. His fingers found the bare skin on my back where the dress dipped away. The sensation stripped my focus and sent my mind whirling faster.

The enthrall.

With difficulty, I pulled away and stumbled back, knocking over my chair, which clattered to the floor with athud.

My eyes found Ares’s. He had the strangest look on his face. It was almost as if he hadn’t expected the kiss, even though it had been his idea.

He’d kissedmewithout my permission in front of all these people and the entire live audience, and he had the audacity to appear startled.

The bastard.

I slapped him across the face.

The sound was loud. Someone gasped. My hand stung—it had been like slapping a solid stone statue—but I didn’t let the pain show. If the slap had hurt him, he didn’t show it either.

“Wren.”

I pointed a finger in his face. “Don’t you ever touch me without permission again.”

A laugh echoed from the table. When I glanced down, Callan, the vampire flirting with Violet, wore a gleeful expression that suggested he was enjoying the show.

“It seems you’ve met your match, Raith,” Callan said, with a sparkle in his eye. “Well done, Wren.”

I didn’t want this vampire’s praise, however. I wanted to get my message out to my pack. I glanced at the cameraman, but he was lowering the lens to the ground.

“No, wait.” I held out a hand as if the vampire crew would listen to me, but it was futile. That ship had sailed.

Someone charged toward me. It was the older vampire I’d seen standing beside Ares when we’d first arrived, William Raith. His wealth was apparent by the diamond-encrusted watch that flashed on his wrist and the expensive suit that hugged his well-built frame. He had salt-and-pepper hair and dark eyebrows that were furrowed deeply, suggesting he hadn’t enjoyed the show we’d just put on. Not at all.

“What do y—?” I started to ask.

“Neverdo that again,” the vampire commanded, his fangs showing as he glared into my face. “From now on, you will never be filmed live, and if you try something as stupid as that once more, your family will suffer the consequences.”

“William,” Ares said, as if pleading with him.

The elder vampire turned his angry gaze on Ares. “Don’t you ‘William’ me. Keep this under control or I will.”

At this, William whirled on the heel of his designer shoe and stormed out of the room.

“Dinner and a show,” Callan said, leaning back in his chair. “Fabulous. And I thought these games would be boring.”

Ares shot him a dirty look. “The vampiresare leaving,” he said, looking directly at Callan. “The ladies will have dinner alone. We will see them later.”

Callan’s face tightened. I wondered if there would be a mutiny or cry of dissent from the other vampires, but it seemed that Ares had all the say. The males stood up, said farewell, and left the room.

As soon as the doors were shut behind them, Violet was up and moving to the chair by my side.

“Oh my moons, Wren. He kissed you!” Her breath was laced with alcohol.

I blinked at her, my head still spinning. Everything had happened so fast. “He did.”

“Was it wonderful?” She clapped her hands together.

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