“Keegan, huh? I have good luck with ‘K’ names.”
“Good luck, eh?” He brightens. “It’s me stock and trade.”
“Well, I’m going to go dance. Feel free to join.” I said as I began to strut away, hoping to find Keegan following behind me. But a glance back, confirmed he was not, and he’d turned away. He was talking to Connor at the bar, with an unsettled look on his face.
Ah well, I thought. Three nibbles in one day was perhaps asking too much. I weaved through the sweaty bodies, focused on the beat of the music. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can feel music touch different parts of my body, and it almost feels like an auditory massage. I lost myself in the moment; a sway here, a step there, a finger snap here, a whip of my hair there. Whatever awkwardness I felt earlier was banished by a calm confidence. I half-opened my eyes, surprised to see that some people were staring. Not just the boys around me, but a few of the girls too. I closed my eyes again, and let the music transport me. People could watch if they wanted. I felt a wanton freedom take hold inside me. I had a craving tonight. It felt like that’s what people were watching, and I welcomed it.
The dance floor became packed, restricting my space, and harshing my mellow. I scooted off to a corner of the dance floor, to resume moving and shaking with a little space. But suddenly, I spotted a handsome fellow crossing toward a table in back. The dance floor lights highlighted his leather jacket and black hair. Another hard body, with a smooth easy gait. Not that I was complaining, but I couldn’t believe all the tall, good-looking men here. They don’t make enough of them like this in Georgia.
Grinning stupidly, I sauntered over toward the mystery man, trying to look casual, following him back toward his table. He sensed he was being followed, and he turned around, his eyes going wide when he saw me. The moment we made eye contact, I felt a rush, similar to what I felt with Keegan, but instead of a warm breeze, this sensation was more like a gentle run of cool water. Maybe it was all the black he was wearing. His general aura felt very dark and cool, like the inviting side of darkness – nothing like that creep who stalked me at the airport.
“Are you following me?” the man asked with a British accent. A simple question, but before I could speak, my mind snapped to a complex vision...
I sit behind this man on a large bed, my legs wrapped around him. My fingers trace along his sturdy back, stroking over muscle and flawless skin. His back is covered with a veritable world map of tattoos, with peculiar symbols periodically interspersed like landmarks. I pretend the symbols are towns, forts, even ancient temples. I lean in and plant soft kisses along each symbol, and each time, my lips tingle with arousal...
Once again, as quickly as the vision appeared, it was gone. I blinked, scratched my head, and tried to act casual. “Maybe?”
“Maybe?” he repeated with a wicked smile. “I’m Brann.”
He wore a black V-neck shirt, black jeans, and boots to match his black leather jacket. His thick, jet-black hair was slicked back and had a slight sheen. I sensed dark secrets in his rich mahogany eyes, and his face was strongly defined, as if carved from marble, with perfect lips ripe for kissing.
I stuck my hand out, and he quickly pulled me in for a double face cheek kiss. “Oh! Okay...” I blurted, stunned. He smelled of cedar and sandalwood, with a hint of vanilla – and also, a liquid lust that I could almost taste.
His brows crooked up, as he pulled back. “And your name? Or do I just call you The Tracker?” Before I could formulate a single word, a familiar deep rumble cut through the air - Orin’s unmistakable voice. “Keira?”
I was startled, as Orin’s gorgeous figure appeared behind Brann, clapping him on the back like they’re old friends. “Orin?” I stammered. “What are you doing here?” As if I hadn’t come looking for him...
“I’d ask you the same,” Orin replied. “Come and meet me mates.” I followed the dashing duo back to their table, and I see Weylyn’s there as well.
“Well, hello! Tell me, dear Keira, what brings you to a bar of all places? The coffee here’s terrible, by the way.”
“Sod off, Weylyn,” Orin snarled. He pulled out a chair for me, always the gentleman. I plopped down, as my feet reminded me that dancing for a long time in heels was a recipe for pain and suffering.
I tried to smile at the Prince Charming that was Weylyn. “Truth is, I’m not in my happy place emotionally after today.”
“And sure, that’ll be Edward. Laid out a pile of confusion, I wager. Lawyers, eh?”
I nodded. “That’s why I am at a bar. This remedy is the standard of care in Georgia,” I say, as I finish off my drink.
Orin frowns.
“And here I thought you had a great start to your day,” Weylyn said sarcastically, with a smile that could melt panties.
Orin took his own seat. “Sounds rough. We just decided to go out and have a few pints together before heading back to the house.” The house... did he mean, my house, er Granny’s house? I could imagine Katie’s face. ‘That’s not a sandwich, it’s a stack of hot cakes!’
Orin was craning his neck, trying to spot somebody. “There’s one more of us. I’m not quite sure if he’s done a bunk on us.”
“So, you caught a load of shyte from Edward, then?” Weylyn asked.
“Pretty much.” I gave a quick rundown of what the lawyer said. All the family history and intrigue, right up to how I’m either prisoner until I’m 25, or I forfeit my family’s estate.
Brann cut in. “If I may... You’ve every
