He throws the second part out to me, looking over Grayson’s impressive shoulders.
No one has asked me to dance before. I barely hear the song above the thudding of my heart.
I’ve also never seen so many different types of supernaturals in one place, and if Grayson hadn’t been with me, I’d have let this one talk me into a dance. Just to experience, once, how it feels to have someone hitting on me.
But Grayson isn’t having any of it.
“She’s not going with you. Sorry.” He uses his size to his advantage.
And if the Surfer Shifter doesn’t recognize the wildness, doesn’t scent the danger, then he’s stupid. Grayson might have taken the suppressant but there’s still something primal about him.
The grooves from his compulsive scratching haven’t healed, and long thin lines stretch across his forearms.
“What are you, the boyfriend?” the shifter asks.
Grayson stiffens. I nearly choke on my next sip of the drink. “No, I’m not.”
“Come on, man, if you’re not her boyfriend then get the hell out of my way.”
Grayson moves with the man smoothly, a dance of its own. “Go find someone else.”
I shouldn’t read too much into this. It’s silly to mistake his protection for anything other than us needing to focus.
We have a job to do for both our lives, and drinking and dancing are a distraction, a waste of time.
But damn, I want it. I want it badly enough to taste it. It’s work to keep from leaning into him and pressing my cheek to his back, pretending for a second he’s mine to choose.
I wrap my free hand around his bicep. “Grayson, let’s go.”
He growls, a rumbling warning under his breath. Several other patrons within hearing distance go still at the sound but Surfer Shifter only laughs.
“You think a little territorial bullshit is going to stop me? I can take you down before you even realize you’re falling, pretty boy.” He steps closer. “What are you going to do?”
My heart jackrabbits into my throat. I tighten my grip on Grayson, surprised he doesn’t shove me off.
The last thing we need is for a fight to break out in the middle of the dancefloor, where there are witnesses. Where the word will spread about a crazed pair of werewolves starting trouble.
“Is there a problem here?”
Colt’s coldness announces his arrival before I recognize his voice.
Tension strings across my shoulders. The crowd parts for him and he stops with several feet to spare, his frigid gaze thawing slightly when he sees it’s us. A V furrows between his brows and his lips thin.
Colt’s different now. Something about him is calmer, deeper. Quieter. I draw in another breath and the shock is a punch.
He’s not a dhampir, a halfling caught between two worlds. He’s a full vampire now.
When the hell had that happened?
He doesn’t roll his eyes with any recognition. He gives nothing away, his face a blank mask, before he purposely drags his attention to the shifter.
No words are necessary. What Grayson hadn’t managed to accomplish, Colt does, and Surfer Shifter holds his hands in front of him in mock penance.
“Fine, I’m going.”
It’s too soon for me to be relieved.
Not when Grayson glares around the room in a personal challenge to anyone else who gets in our way. My chest tenses, then fills with a strange kind of heat. He protected me. Not because he wanted to get something out of me, but because he thought it was the right thing to do.