"Wait one fucking second," the man seethed. He grabbed my elbow and pulled me back into the chair. "I've been buying your drinks all afternoon. You owe me."
I never hated myself more than in moments like this where I had nothing I could say because I had no upper hand. I had only started talking to this guy because I'd planned on stealing from him. Despite the lackluster effect, I'd been sucking energy from him for the past hour. I cringed to picture how obnoxious he'd be at full power.
This situation hadn't been like with Wyatt, when I'd had to talk myself into going through with it because I wasn't sure if he deserved it. This guy definitely deserved a little of my medicine, but I couldn't stomach putting on the act I would be required to put on in order to go through with it. On top of that, I couldn't stop thinking of Wyatt. Every time I tried batting my eyelashes at this guy, my gut twisted like I'd swallowed a razor. I got to my feet again. "I don't owe you anything." I opened my mind, sucking from him as I tugged away. He was still stronger than me, and I couldn't pull my arm free.
He yanked me down, forcing my body to bend oddly at the waist. "I know what you are."
My gut dropped. I recoiled, but he refused to let go. How? Did he know my uncle? Had he been following me? Was this a trap?
"You're a pretty prostitute, but you still sell yourself for money. Now, you can sit there and play along. Listen attentively, smile, and be ready for when I shove you on your knees in the bathroom, or you can do this the hard way where my cock still winds up in your mouth, but you have less fun in the moments leading up to that point."
My stomach rolled; my breakfast churned dangerously. I hated this man's fingers on my body and knew the second I got back to my room, I'd shower until the hot water ran cold. I looked around, but no one in this bar gave two shits about what was happening in the corner. And if they did, they'd probably be on this guy's side. He'd been buying them drinks, after all.
I opened my mind, feeling woozy the moment I tried to take in more than I should. The room spun. "Please let go of me," I whispered. My voice sounded soft and weak. Just like I was. Weak. I pretended to have power because of what I could do, but every time I needed to prove my strength, I folded. That was true before this moment, and it was true now. "Let go." I meant to demand it, but it sounded like a plea.
The man's splotchy face slithered my way, and his gaze turned calculating. "Suck my di—"
A third man slid behind our table. I'd thought he was trying to get by until he stopped directly next to my companion, slamming his head against the tabletop in the next second. The man let go of his hold on me.
I jumped back as the man's nose poured blood over the table. Wyatt glared at the man's head like he wished he could do far worse.
"He said let go."
Chapter Five
Wyatt
"If you come back here, I'll call the cops!" The very angry bartender had a thick vein that bulged from his forehead. He should have been thanking me. I'd rid his bar of one more creep. It was safer inside those four walls thanks to me.
Somehow, the bartender, cook, and most of the patrons hadn't seen things that way. They'd just been pissed I'd knocked out someone who'd been buying people a shitload of drinks.
"Why are you throwing me out? I didn't do anything!" Kansas yelled back. He didn't have any veins that bulged, but he had a tight ass that he flexed every time he shouted.
The bartender crossed his arms in the doorway. Under different circumstances, I might have told him his long bushy beard was impressive. Paired with his black knit beanie and red-and-black plaid shirt, he had a whole thing going. "Look, buddy. Just leave with your pimp, okay?" He mixed just enough pity in his words so it was clear he was disgusted by the whole thing.
Kansas made an outraged sound, and I jumped in front of him, pretending like I was lunging for the bartender.
"Are you talking shit about my boy?" I barked, punching my chest like a gorilla defending his harem.
The bartender grabbed the door and swung it almost all the way closed, shouting at us through the sliver. "That's it! I'm calling the cops!"
"Shrimp in a basket!" Kansas said in what I assumed was his attempt at a curse word. "Just come on, Wyatt."
He tugged me away from the door. When I didn't budge, he walked around to my front and slipped his thinner arms around my waist, pushing like an ineffective linebacker. "Do you want to get arrested?" he grunted.
No, I didn't. But apparently, Kansas didn't want to more. I let him push me, and he slipped out from under my arms after a few steps and fell in step beside me.
"Where is my money, Kansas?" I'd told myself on my way up here if he had the money, if he passed it over, I'd let him go, no more questions asked. Except, now that he was here, within touching distance, I couldn't let him go without making him pay. He'd stolen from the human side of me, but he'd disrespected my inner alpha. And he required submission. I didn't have all afternoon to waste; I needed to get back to the ferry before the last ship went out for the evening.
"I have it!"
I growled. He'd stolen from me, and now he lied? Unacceptable. We continued to walk down the sidewalk, away from the bar, but my focus was on my companion, not our route. My eyes followed the motion of his lips, flexing and pressing, flesh against flesh. I'd take his mouth and claim it as mine.
"I swear! Wyatt. I have it, most of it. I was going to give it back to you!"
Right. I'd believe that just after I got back from sending my long-lost cousin a money order that he needed so I could claim my huge inheritance.
I couldn't stop looking at his lips move, but the words he spoke faded into fuzz. It was as if his mouth was moving in slow motion, as red as I remembered, like ripe apples.
"Stop staring at my mouth!" He lunged forward like he was planning on reaching out and forcing my head to turn, but, at the last second, he pulled back. He sighed loudly and turned right at the corner.
I followed along. I hadn't gotten my money back yet, but it seemed like I would. Of course I'd be deliriously happy about that.
"It was weird when I sniffed you." The admission escaped out of me so quickly I ended up practically shouting in his face.
He blinked rapidly as some one from the other side of the street shouted, "Fucking freak! Run!"
Kansas snorted and waited for the hecklers across the street to move along. "That was weird, but not super weird."
That was a relief. I hadn't known what had compelled me in my office to breathe him in so deeply. I only knew that in that moment, I'd needed his scent to fill my senses. That didn't have to be weird. Normal people had favorite smells, and I was a shifter. I had a much stronger sense of smell, so it made sense I would enjoy my favorites more strongly.
Okay, it was a little weird. But not in a I-want-to-eat-your-face sort of way. In a much more charming, non-cannibalistic way.
"I have your money." He shook his head, making his sandy brown hair flop. "I have most of your money." He was quiet for several seconds. Then he inhaled. "It isn't like I knew you had that much money in there, you know! I thought I was being nice! I thought I'd take the money you were probably going to use to bang some other dude."