Page 2 of The Dark Elf's Secret Twins

She disappears from my line for half a second before I hear a muffled yelp, and I know without seeing that it was Cyra.

I push off of the wall, stalking toward the teeming edge of the crowd as fury builds in my stomach. Fucking woman can’t stay out of trouble for evenone minutewithout my eyes on her.

The sea of people parts as they see me coming, revealing the scene that turns my fury into full-blown, violent rage. Cyra’s long leg is caught in the grip of a seated dark elf male, his face leering as he tugs her toward him. The full drink she was holding sloshes from the violence of the motion, and Cyra stumbles, catching herself on the back of the male’s chair, her heaving breasts square in the dark elf’s face.

I’ll fucking kill him.

“Everyone has a price–” the dark elf croons with a lascivious smile. His features drop suddenly as I appear over Cyra’s shoulder, winding my arm carefully around her bare waist so as not to skim anything I shouldn’t. It’s clear this dark elf has already taken enough liberties with her as is. It’s an effort not to yank her back from the scum as roughly as I want to, but it’s an effort I make consciously.

“No. She doesn’t.”

Cyra goes loose in my arms, and I take the opportunity to pull her upright, further from the leering gaze of the male. Her body almost seems to melt against me as her back presses flush against my torso, the curve of her ass rubbing in an uncomfortably pleasant way against me with the shift in her position.

The male is frozen where he sits, staring up at me with thinly-veiled terror, his fingers still digging into the soft, olive flesh of Cyra’s leg. In a moment of weakness, I abandon all thoughts of professional courtesy, allowing the calloused palm of my hand to slide down her bare thigh for a split second before reaching the male’s fingers and prying them roughly away from her. A feral, animalistic sense of possessiveness swells behind my chest for a moment before I tamp it down.

I clench my jaw, anger rising in the place of the confusing myriad of emotions I’ve just shoved away. I’m furious with this male, thinking he can touch her. Furious that I’m here instead of on the battlefield where I belong. Furious that Cyra can’t keep herself out of trouble for one godsdamned second.

“The only thing available for purchase here are the drinks and the show,” I grate out to the dark elf, who rubs at his sore fingers. He’s lucky I didn’t snap them off completely. I considered it.

“Sir,” I add, allowing the violence I’m feeling to leak into the word. Just like the male before him, the dark elf pales, and I know he won’t have the balls to do anything when we leave.

I glance down at Cyra as I realize my arm is still wrapped firmly around her waist. I expect to be met with her usual haughty expression of reproach, but instead, those dark eyes are wide, something heated flickering in them as her gaze clashes with mine. Fuck, the things I could do to her.

Instead, I drag my arm from around her waist, pressing my palm flat against her lower back as I guide her a little more roughly than necessary out of the crowd. Blood pounds in my ears, seemingly in time to the swish of her hips as she takes hurried steps to keep up with my pace as I guide us toward the service hallway behind the bar.

I just need to get her away from the patrons so she can catch her breath, and then I can go back to my wall and she can go back to… whatever she wants to call her job.

Heat radiates against my palm from her skin as I push her through the doorway, and another sudden burst of anger fills me. What the fuck am I doing? I don’t give a shit if she’s uncomfortable. If she doesn’t like the job, she should get a new one. Then I won’t have to worry about seeing her everywhere I fucking look.

I spin toward her suddenly, Cyra stumbling as her back slams against the wall. As if by instinct, I press my hand to the wall above her head, leaning into her space. It’s a tactic I use often to intimidate patrons when necessary, but this… this is something different.

Cyra’s eyes clash with mine in the even lower light of the service hallway, the usual fire and heat within them burning brighter than I’ve ever seen. Without thinking about it, my gaze dips to her lips, her cupid’s bow glistening like she’s licked them recently.

I want to lean in. I want to hike her legs up around my waist and take her right here against the wall. I want to know exactly what kind of filthy things those lips are capable of.

Instead, I force my gaze back to her eyes.

“Don’t do that shit again,” I growl lowly. And then I force myself off the wall and out of the hallway before she can respond, trying to calm my racing heart and distract myself from how tight my pants suddenly feel against me.

I take up my usual spot against the wall, glowering at the crowd and watching the entrance to the service hallway out of the corner of my eye. Sure enough, Cyra emerges a few moments later, tucking her hair back into place, her cheeks pinker than usual and an angry bend to her brows.

She doesn’t even look in my direction as she stalks past and back out into the crowd. I want to do the same, to go back to ignoring her, but my eyes won’t obey my brain. What the fuck has gotten into me?

2

CYRA

Don’t do that shit again?

Don’t do that shit again?

What the fuck does he think, that Iwantedthat grimy asshole to accost me when I was working?

Righteous indignation, fury, and uncomfortable, swelling desire all war for dominance in my mind as Lykan storms out of the service hallway, slamming the door shut behind him. It takes me too long to realize that I’m still frozen against the wall, the smooth stone at my back doing little to cool my heated flesh.

“Insufferable fucking asshole,” I mutter under my breath, letting my head drop back against the wall a little too roughly. My skin prickles at the memory of Lykan’s nearness, of the way his massive body caged mine in, and how his warm breath tickled my cheeks.

I shove myself away from the wall as if to escape those memories, shaking the events of the past few minutes off. I have no idea why I’m letting Lykan get under my skin. The man is the most growly, self-important prick I’ve ever met, and the fact that my body seems to respond to his proximity is a new andveryunwelcome occurrence.

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