Nightbloom by Juliette Cross Read Free Book Online Page B

with the singles tonight?”
    “Just checking on my baby, Spire Maiden. She seems to be doing just fine without me.”
    I listened to the interaction, my eyes on Sorcha.
    He was watching me. I finally braved a glance. A glass of amber liquor was poised at his lips. His black hair hooded deep, brown eyes. Yes. He watched me shamelessly, not bothering to look away, as if it were his right to look his fill, as if there were no one else here but us. Still in his business best, the top few buttons of his starched, silver shirt were undone, drawing my eye to the V of tan skin. I flinched when the waitress nudged me, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
    She passed out our drinks, handing me a glass of water last. Clayton chuckled.
    “Water, Ella? You sure you don’t want something a little stronger. It might loosen you up.”
    To everyone else, it was a harmless joke, but I saw his face tighten, the ice in his eyes. The buxom waitress grinned before swishing off, as if she caught the dig at my expense. Clayton sauntered away, clapping Slade on the shoulder. Corbin wrangled Sorcha and Willow over for shots. But I didn’t move. I was left standing there.
    Alone.
    Looking at him.
    Unable to look anywhere else.
    He shoved off the bar, his wings pressed tight to his back, heading straight for me.
    “Good evening, Ella.”
    That velvety voice buckled my knees. I stood firm. “Hi, um. Hello.”
    “Would you like to dance?”
    “Dance? Well…” I scanned the room. No sign of Clayton.
    “It’s just a dance.” He held out a hand.
    “Right. Sure.” I put my hand in his.
    He wound past the lounge section around the corner. He pulled out his comm device and punched something in one-handed before sliding it back into his pants pocket. I thought we’d head downstairs, but he pulled me past the elevator to a nook with a few booths and a small dance floor. A more private dance floor.
    Just as we arrived, the fast-pumping song died, and a slow, haunting melody echoed around us. He pulled me into his arms, charming smile in place.
    “Did you do this?” I pointed toward the speakers.
    “Build this place? No. Wasn’t me. This is my cousin’s gig.”
    “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. The music.”
    He chuckled and pulled me into a tighter embrace. With one hand on my waist, he held me close but not too close, swaying me gently. “I prefer slow songs.”
    “I bet you do,” I mumbled.
    His shoulder flexed under my fingers, making me more aware of his body, his strength. I slid my hand to his bicep, loving the sensation of his cotton-silk blend under my palms. I averted my gaze to nowhere in particular, pretending the feel of him had no effect on me.
    He spun me slowly to the easy beat. His hand slid to the small of my back. I remembered the last time he touched me there. My breath quickened.
    “Ella?”
    “Hmm?” Still not meeting his gaze.
    “Why are you with Clayton Kerrington?”
    That got my attention. “What?”
    “Why are you with him?”
    Was he serious? Do people really ask things like that?
    “He’s…he’s a good guy. Um, you know, he’s—”
    “He’s not a good guy.” The expression that hardened Paxon’s face made me shiver. “So what’s the real reason?”
    Anger flared in my gut. “Why are you asking me this? It’s kind of personal.”
    “I don’t think so. All I want to know is why you’re with someone like him.”
    I frowned. “What do you mean ‘someone like him’?”
    “He’s arrogant, selfish, and has no idea what he has in having you.”
    Blushing, I perked up my chin. “How do you know what he thinks?”
    “Because if you were mine, I wouldn’t wander off and leave you unattended.”
    If I were his? Again, he insinuated he wanted me. The idea of being his girl, his woman, sent my nerves into overdrive.
    His hand on my back pressed me the slightest bit closer. My body responded, bending for him, wanting him. My eyes dropped to his lips.
    This was