Obsession: A Rejected Mate Shifter Romance (The Mate Games #1)(18)

“Tried to save you.”

I reacted like I’d been slapped. “Save me? This is what saving me looks like? Calling me a whore?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “Just forget it.”

“No, actually, I think I want you to explain it to me.”

“This guy, the one you’re practically dry humping like a bitch in heat? He’s a monster, Sunday. One of the worst. He’s also the enemy. Or does the fact that you can’t shift mean you’ve lost all loyalty to your kind?”

Noah grasped Kingston by the front of his shirt and shoved him hard. Kingston went flying, knocking over a table and spilling drinks everywhere. The two bouncers stepped into action, but instead of going after Noah, they went to Kingston, lifting him off the floor and escorting him to the exit.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Noah said, wiping his hands together before turning back to look at me. His eyes roamed over my face, his lips tilting in a frown at whatever he found there. He cupped my cheek, his voice gentle. “Are you okay?”

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, feeling cold despite the warmth of the crowded club. “Peachy.”

His frown deepened. “Come on, let’s get you something to drink.”

In typical Noah fashion, he didn’t give me a chance to respond before wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close. He led me in the direction he wanted me to go and just expected me to follow. For once, I didn’t fight it. There was something comforting about letting someone else take control. Even if only for a little while.

I wish I could say the night took a turn for the better after that. But it didn’t.

Not even close.





Chapter

Ten





ALEK





“What the hell is wrong with me?” This tightening in my chest wouldn’t ease, no matter how many shots I downed or women I flirted with.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Moira said, holding up two crystal goblets and a bottle of expensive-looking mead. “I brought reinforcements,” she said, flopping down next to me.

I hadn’t had a proper flagon of mead since I’d left home, but one whiff as I cracked open the bottle told me she’d gotten her hands on the genuine product. My mouth watered, craving the smoke and honey taste.

Picking up one of the glasses, I splashed some of the amber liquid into it and handed it to her. Then, holding the bottle up to my lips, I toasted, “Sk?l,” before knocking it back and draining it completely.

Once it was empty, I threw the bottle down on the floor beside me, causing a few of the patrons nearby to jump out of the way as the glass shattered. “I require more of this nectar!” I shouted at one of the waitresses in the loud, obnoxious fashion of my ancestors. Then I threw in a wink for good measure, and the pretty blonde turned a sweet shade of red before rushing off to do as I’d asked.

Moira was watching me with an amused quirk of her brow. “Was that really necessary?”

Stealing the drink she’d yet to sample, I downed that too. “Yes. Vikings don’t fuck around when it comes to mead.”

“Clearly,” she said with a snort.

The waitress was quick to return with a fresh bottle, and I settled in to enjoy the club's atmosphere. I wasn’t in the mood for dancing, but I was always up for a party. The mischief that could be made when a little alcohol was mixed with hot, sweaty bodies and raging pheromones was too tempting to resist.

“So what are you doing here, witch? Don’t you have someone to keep you occupied? I know I don’t have the right equipment to entice you.”

She kicked her feet up on the low table in front of the oversized leather couch we were seated on. Instead of answering, she said, “I think I have you pegged. It took me a while, but I think I know now.”

I lifted a brow, curious whether she’d finally put it all together. “Go on.”

“Fenrir.”

Before I could stop myself, a harsh bark of laughter escaped me. “You think I’m a fucking dog?”

“He’s a wolf.”

“I’m no animal.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s debatable.”

Opening the fresh bottle of Manna?lgr, I poured us each a glass. I raised mine, staring at her pointedly until she did the same. Then clinking them together, I shouted, “Sk?l.” When Moira started to lift her glass to her lips without repeating the toast, I put my hand on top of her goblet, preventing her from sipping.

“What the hell?”

“If you’re going to drink with a Viking, sweetheart, you have to do it right.”

“Oh fine,” she groaned. “Sk?l.”

I moved my hand, grinning at her before knocking my drink back. We continued on in this fashion until the bottle was nearly empty.

It took a lot to get me drunk. A lot. But Moira, however fierce she liked to pretend to be, was a cheap date. The woman swayed in her seat, then turned a little green. “Oh, goddess. I’ll be right back.”

Clamping a hand over her mouth, she ran for the bathroom, and I chuckled, shaking my head. “Fucking lightweight.”

I poured another, and my gaze trailed over the crowd as I brought the heavenly liquid to my lips. My focus zeroed in on her. Sunday. The woman I had no intention of lusting over. She wasn’t mine, wasn’t even interested in me. But there it was again, that strange tightness, that curl in my belly that spoke of an intense draw to keep her safe.