Page 101 of Yearning For Her

Willow turned and slipped out of his arms, pressing a palm to her chest. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

“Willow?” His voice sounded far away, muffled, barely audible over the music. “What’s wrong?”

Running a hand through her hair to sweep it back, she looked up at Kian and offered a timid smile. “I think I just need some water.”

Kian grasped her shoulders and frowned down at her. The concern in his eyes only intensified the feeling in her chest. “Come. We’ll find you a place to sit, and I’ll fetch some water.”

Her legs moved automatically as he guided her off the crowded dance floor. Many of the dancers seemed lost in the rhythm, blissfully unaware of their surroundings, and Kian used his body to shield her from their abandon.

All she could do was try to breathe.

He can feel my emotions.

Oh, God, what is he feeling from me now?

Does he know?

Impossibly, her heart quickened, and her breaths came short and shallow.

Please, please don’t have a panic attack.

“Easy, Violet.” Kian’s grip on her shoulders tightened slightly. “I have you. You’re all right.”

The rest of Reverb was almost as crowded as the dance floor. Kian paused, sweeping his gaze across the nightclub. He growled. “Every fucking table taken?”

“I’m okay,” Willow said, but her voice was so thin that even she couldn’t hear it.

“Excuse me,” Kian said, touching the arm of a passing waitress.

She shied away from his touch, lip curling in disgust, until she turned her head to look at him. Willow had never seen anyone’s demeanor thaw so fast.

“Hey,” the woman said, pressing her lips together as she looked Kian up and down. “What can I do for—”

“We need a pitcher of water.”

There was something in his voice, something subtle but powerful. It was like another layer beneath his words, and it made them carry farther than they should have, considering the easy tone with which he’d spoken.

The waitress’s expression again changed, the lust and interest that had brightened it fading. Her eyes would’ve been almost vacant were it not for the hint of confusion in them. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

She turned and walked away.

Kian led Willow to a nearby table, where a couple sat across from each other with several empty glasses and open beer bottles standing between them. Both the man and the woman were staring down at their phones, him with his elbows on the table, her turned on her chair so her shoulder was toward him.

“Move,” Kian said. Again, there was that ripple of power in his voice.

The couple sat up straighter, their expressions going blank as they looked up at him.

A low growl rumbled in Kian’s chest. “Leave. Now.”

Without a word, the couple put their phones away, stood up, and walked toward the exit.

Kian guided Willow to a now vacant chair. As she sat, her gaze lingered on the departing couple.

Taking her face between his palms, Kian forced her to look at him. “Are you all right?”

Her brow creased. “Did…did you compel them?”

His jaw muscles ticked. “It doesn’t matter. You need to tell me what’s wrong, Willow.”

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