Page 4 of Immortal Bastard

His words abruptly cut off as if they were physically trapped in his throat. Before he could lumber his fat ass off his seat, Mr. Gorgeous ordered him to rethink his next move. “Do not speak another word about her if you wish to keep your tongue. Get up and walk away. Now.”

Was this guy with the mafia? He delivered that threat with chilling assuredness as if he would not hesitate one millisecond to cut out the boomer’s tongue. It should have been a red flag, but if Delilah had a flag, she’d use it to mop up the mess that was now soaking her panties.

Who the hell was this guy?

Like a puppet on a string, the older man silently rose from the stool and ambled away, forgetting his cocktail and appearing as unsure as a lost child.

Delilah gaped at the now empty seat as the beautiful man slid more into view. Lean, carved muscle, not an ounce of fat on him. Talk about a brick shit house. No wonder the other guy didn’t put up a fight. This ripped Adonis could annihilate most men in one swing.

When he met her hungry stare with his own, she preened. Yup, she literally tittered like a giddy little schoolgirl as butterflies or some other cheesy romantic shit tickled her core. The swooning sensation was so intense she broke eye contact and fidgeted awkwardly. She couldn’t recall ever responding to a man in such a way.

“You do not have to be nervous around me, little one.”

A hundred fantasies raced through her head in the span of that glance, several starring her as the disobedient student in a short plaid skirt while he held a wooden ruler in that firm—holy shit those were some big hands. Her body melted, heat sinking deeper into her stomach and ruining her panties once and for all.

“Where are you from?” There was something old world about him. Maybe he was from an obscure place she never thought to visit like Bulgaria or Estonia.

“I’m originally from Portugal.” He scowled as he scanned the bar.

Was he looking for something? Maybe looking for someone. Delilah wanted his full attention so she leaned forward, trying to monopolize his view with what was likely the most desperate smile she’d ever given a man.

His menacing presence left no room for misinterpretation. He stood beside her like a bodyguard, assuring no other men would approach, but also appearing very put out by their surroundings.

“Do you get out much?” she asked, teasing him.

He didn’t laugh or smile. He just continued scanning the bar as if looking for threats. Okay, maybe this was a little weird.

“You’re not safe in a place of such ill repute.” His hand protectively pressed into her back.

She laughed and looked around, wondering if this was some sort of prank. “Did Lance and McGuire send you here to fuck with me?” He was pretty enough to be an actor.

His scowl deepened. “Who?”

“Lance and…” Her words faded as he moved closer, showing no recognition. “Never mind.”

Another wave of patrons crowded the bar and bumped her seat. He turned and growled something threatening in another language. The group of patrons immediately backed off and gave them space.

Talk about territorial foreplay. No one had ever laid such an indisputable, nonverbal claim. She liked it. From his starched collar down to his booted feet, the man was all power and inarguable influence. She took pity on anyone who dared to tell him no.

She wanted—no, needed—him to hit on her so she could deny him just to see how he’d react. Visions of hot flesh flashed through her mind as she imagined pushing him to the brink of losing his self-control and seeing what really lay beneath that gruff exterior. Would he hold her down? Make her beg? She wanted all the possibilities.

He looked at her again, the black of his eyes swallowing the silver. “Are you waiting for something?” His graveled voice tinged with impatience as those strange eyes made a slow perusal of her body.

“Just my drink.”

Another man approached, this one college-age. As he attempted to claim the unoccupied stool, Captain Handsome pants twisted and growled, “Leave.”

The younger man didn’t flinch as he reversed and obeyed the command. The beautifully intense man had an indisputable air of authority. Everything about the territorial bastard called to her on some baser, carnal level.

“You have many admirers here.”

“Hardly.” She snorted.

He leaned closer and his cologne intoxicated her every breath, a mixture of earthy masculinity and savage authority. “I know what these men are thinking, little one.” His warm breath teased the delicate shell of her ear and she shivered. “Their minds are full of sin. You’re not safe here.”

“Um, it’s cool. I know how to keep the creepers at bay. But I appreciate you stepping in like you did.” She pivoted to fully face him. “Did you want to sit?” Flirtatiously waving a hand at the vacant stool, she suggestively lifted a shoulder under her cherry-red, rockabilly dress as she batted her eyes.

He didn’t smile back. Rather, his gaze swept over her and he scowled. His obvious disapproval played into her fantasies—unless that look meant he didn’t find her attractive.

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