Page 30 of Reckless Covenant

That… I did not know.

She struggles to be inconspicuous too. Especially when I feel a slender arm wrap around mine, and some words I can’t focus on, whispered in my ear. Morrigan’s gaze darkens, frowning as she looks at the woman next to me.

Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?

My line of sight is quickly cut off. “What may I get you this evening? Would you like to start with an appetizer?”

I curse the waiter mentally, and we order quickly, adding another bottle of wine on the bill.

“I thought you guys wouldn’t touch alcohol after last night.” Madds regards me and Carter with a grin on his lips.

“Drinking wasn’t exactly our main activity. We were quenching our thirst in a much… tastier way.” I wink at Carter.

“Much more satisfying.” He smirks at me.

“You should come next time. Even just for a drink.”

“I’m sure there’s a particular blond that wouldn’t mind visiting Metamorphosis with you.” Roxanne winks as she lazily brushes her long fingernails over Finn’s bicep, clearly referring to one of the girls that has a thing for him.

“Maybe. I don’t think it’s quite my scene.” Madds turns his attention back to the O’Rourke table on the far side of the restaurant, dismissing the whole thing. “Should we go give Liam the news?”

“I think it’s exactly the scene you need once in a while. Your only hobby these days is fighting in that ring… you need some diversity. And no, not yet.” When I look back at the table, O’Rourke looks at me, a different brand of surprise in his eyes. I lift my glass, nodding to him, and he returns the gesture. Holt turns to me too, but I ignore him.

“He knows we’re here. He either comes to us himself, or waits for our convenience.”

He better wait, because I see a flicker of a red dress on my Eve, and I would very much like to see how it looks on her pale skin. I want to find out if it matches with her hair… if it brings out her eyes.

But most of all, since I left her in the dark since we made the pact, I want to see if she’s squirming.

* * *

As we walkacross the restaurant, some men straighten, nodding their hellos to us, while some women can’t bat their eyelids any faster. I glance at Carter who walks next to me, and it’s fascinating how oblivious he is to their attention.

He has an old-world vibe, a certain charm, different from Finn who is a blatant player. He’s quiet, similar to Madds from that perspective, coming across as broody and hard to get. Only the difference between them is that Madds ignores it, and Carter doesn’t actually notice most of the attention from women. He has a special kind of tunnel vision, because the moment someone truly catches his eye, he is so hyper-focused, he becomes relentless.

The neat waves of her red hair fall over the back of her chair, and almost as she feels the air shift in the restaurant, she turns to look over her shoulder, but stalls at the last moment, still for a second longer, before she turns back.

“Good evening. Pleasure to see you here.” We swipe our gaze over everyone at the table as we stop right behind Morrigan’s chair. I don’t miss how her shoulders tensed at the sound of my voice. She doesn’t try to look at me though, but when Carter speaks, she leans back slightly to look at him.

“How are you all this evening?” His charm rubs off on Sheila O’Rourke in an instant, her smile shy as she greets us.

They’re sitting in a corner booth table, the daughter and wife on this side on chairs, Holt and Cillian O’Rourke on the opposite side, while the head of the family took his rightful place at the head of the table on the sofa.

“Gentlemen. It’s been a while…” Oh, he’s been waiting for us to come back to him with some news. He knew what he wanted was not easy. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t been getting impatient. The Ghost told us he’s been trying to find other ways to get to him. He ignored them all.

“It has indeed. Work has been keeping us quite… busy.” I watch as Carter gives him an insinuating smile. “Some tasks are a bit more time-consuming, so we tend to retire until we are satisfied they are successful.”

At those words, Morrigan turns to me for a couple of seconds, the look in her eyes questioning. I slide my hand on the back of the chair, behind her hair, enjoying the way her back muscles flex as she pulls her shoulders back gently. The table is oblivious, as Carter and I flank her, all eyes on him as he continues the conversation. I, however, tune out, my gaze lazily moving between them, wherever I see lips moving, but my focus is solely on the woman before me.

She smells of wildflowers and rain, as if she laid in the rays of the setting sun in the middle of a meadow during a wild summer storm, and I find myself craving to be right there with her. This scent… it awakens a recent memory I can’t pinpoint. I can almost taste it, feel the pressure of it on my chest. And damn… it tastes good.

My thumb moves from the backrest of the chair, brushing over the skin of her back that suddenly loses its softness, bursting in goosebumps. She’s tense, yet utterly and completely nonchalant, like nothing’s happening. Like the devil isn’t on her shoulder. Like The Serpent isn’t brushing against her skin, enticing her with his touch. I brush my thumb over the goosebumps, a ghost of a touch across her spine, the softness of her hair so pleasant against the back of my hand.

The conversation Carter carries lives somewhere in the back of my mind, because the main sound that fills my ears is one that I can’t actually hear. It’s what I think the slow brush of my skin against hers sounds like, how I’m imagining it does. Back and forth… a soft abrasion, as I imagine she lies on her stomach in my bed, my head on her shoulder, as I drag a finger across her spine. A minute passes, maybe two, maybe more, and the goosebumps and tenseness in her flesh have been replaced by soft skin and enticing heat, as she all but leans into my touch.

I’ve been watching the men in the meantime, O’Rourke nodding excessively, Cillian’s narrowed eyes turning over each of Carter’s words in his head, repeatedly, checking for traps or dishonesty, and when I get to Holt, he’s staring right at me.

I’ve met enough arrogant assholes to recognize even the ones that try to hide it, hell… I’m probably one. Yet this motherfucker before me… his arrogance borderlines so hard on stupidity that I’m not entirely sure if it’s already crossed the line. The sheer boredom in his eyes, head leaned back, slumped body, it gives him an air of disrespectful arrogance, clearly believing he’s above everyone at this table.

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