“Hello?” She waved a hand at him. “Dude, are you okay?”
“I am now,” he said dreamily. “Now that you’re here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. What do you want?”
You. Only you from now on.
Her eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”
Crap. He said that out loud. “I mean, uh …” God, why the hell was his brain so foggy? Was that an effect of meeting his mate? “I just … wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed to be unsteady on your feet.”
“Yeah, five vodka cranberries will do that to you,” she said sheepishly.
“I know,” he lurched forward, backing her up to the other side, pressing her against the wall. He braced himself with his forearms before he crushed her fully. Shit, shit, shit!
“Oh.” She didn’t protest though, or push him off. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he swore he saw the glitter of desire in her eyes and smell her arousal. “So,” she said, her voice low and throaty. “Do you think … maybe we should, uh, get out of here? Find some fun of our own?”
“I’ll follow you to the end of the world if you ask me to, baby doll.”
Maybe it was the throbbing in his head. Or maybe it was the sun streaming in through his lids. Whatever it was that woke him, Daniel only knew that when he opened his eyes, a dreaded feeling filled his chest. It was like his stomach was filled with ice, and he didn’t want to get up.
What the fuck happened last night?
He blinked and took a deep breath. “Ugh.” His mouth tasted like shit. Groggily, he pushed himself up and—
“Where the fuck am I?”
It looked like a low-rent motel room, based on the cheap, worn furniture, the outdated decor and springy mattress underneath him. This was definitely not their suite at the Aria.
Slinking out of bed, he rubbed his aching temple. Glancing down, he realized he was shirtless, but still wearing last night’s jeans and socks, though his belt buckle was undone. An image flashed in his mind.
Red painted fingernails reaching for the buckle.
Yellow, blue, and red ink on warm tawny skin.
Pouty lips. Velvet brown eyes turning dark with desire.
Thick lashes lowering.
And—
Nothing.
A big, fat blank.
He sank back down on the bed and buried his face in his hands. Why did he feel like something was wrong? Like something was missing.
Christ, what did I have to drink?
As he tried to retrace his steps, a different, dreaded feeling came over him. That drink. It was the last thing he remembered consuming. Was it drugged? He didn’t doubt it. He should have burned off the alcohol in one gin and tonic in minutes. When he came out of the private room, his bear had been telling him something was wrong.
His inner grizzly roared, then tumbled over, covering its face with its paws. For something to affect even his inner animal, it had to be bad. Bloodsbane, maybe? It was the only substance shifters knew to avoid. But who the hell would—
A loud, insistent ringing pierced into his skull and knocked him out of his thoughts. Scrambling around, he found his phone under the bed. Grabbing it, he quickly answered. “Hello?” Ow. Even talking made his head hurt.
“Rogers, where the hell are you?” came Anders’s furious voice over the receiver.
“I … uh, I’m not sure.”
“Well, wherever the hell you are, you better get your ass to the airport or we’ll leave without you.”
“What? What time—shit!” he cursed when he glanced up at the clock by the bedside. The digital display showed that it was four in the afternoon. “Damn it … I’ll get there as soon as I can.” He spied his shirt hanging from the corner of the bed and grabbed it.
“How long?”
“Just … wait for me, okay?” Fuck, fuck, fuck! “I’m gonna get into a cab now.”
After putting his shirt on and checking he still had his wallet in his pocket, Daniel practically flew out of the room. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the panic, but his system was starting to clear up as he made his way down the concrete stairs two at a time. Dashing out of the motel parking lot, he flagged the first cab he saw. “Airport,” he barked at the cabbie.
As he sank back into the seat, he swallowed a big gulp of air. The pain in his head was easing, but try as he might, he couldn’t put together the events of last night after they had left the private room. Bits and pieces, maybe, but he wasn’t sure what was real and what was a dream. The only thing he was sure of was the pit in his stomach was starting to feel like the Grand Canyon as the cab drove further away from the motel.
Think, Rogers. Think.
What happened last night? Where did he go?
Pink Palace. Private Room. Then the main room.
A drink. Someone sent him a drink. Candy.
His instincts told him it couldn’t have been her.
Maybe it was the guy that was hitting on her. He knew Daniel was a shifter, could feel the animosity from him. Being Vegas, he didn’t doubt it would be easy enough to obtain the right drugs to get a shifter intoxicated. Bloodsbane, most likely. Every shifter was taught about that stuff.
Surely nothing bad happened. His clothes were still on, his wallet was intact, albeit much lighter, and he didn’t seem to have any injuries. All he could remember was a sweet, delicate scent and something soft in his arms. Could he have been with a wo—
“We’re here,” the cabbie announced.
“Thanks.” He tossed the guy a bill. “Keep the change.”
As he made his way toward the private jet terminal, he pushed all thoughts aside from
