Page 8

Chapter 8

Gay At The Gala

Blake

The Kind Gala was in full swing.

It was held inside the White House. I sat at a full table by the front of the stage, flanked by Xavier and Warrick. They wore similar suits, clearly tailored and clearly expensive. Xavier looked a little more comfortable in his than Warr did. He kept fiddling with the collar and rolling his shoulders back. As if he wanted to shed it off like snakeskin. On the other side of Warrick was my best friend, Cassius, who couldn’t stop asking questions about how dragons lived.

“Do y’all ever get scared of heights?” Cassius asked. “Like when you’re flying?”

Warr chuckled. “No, I don’t think that’s a thing for us.”

“Interesting. What about swimming? Can you swim in dragon form?”

I interjected. “Where are you coming up with these questions?”

“I’m curious,” he said with a shrug .

“We can. It came in quite handy for my brother some months back.”

“What happened?” Cassius asked.

Before Warrick could explain, a hand landed on my shoulder. I looked up to see Verona, one of my father’s aide. “Sorry for interrupting, but the vice president is asking to see you.”

I stood, excusing myself from the table. Xavier followed my lead. He walked through the crowded atrium with me. He was patient as donors and politicians stopped me to say hello. They were all empty hugs and hurried goodbyes. It was all part of the act I’d learned to perform since I was a kid. My dad was lucky I liked to play it. There were other high-profile children who did the complete opposite. I was never found with coke in my bag or driving drunk down a country street. I stayed far away from scandals. Being a good boy suited me.

“You’re good at schmoozing,” Xavier said as we followed my dad’s aide, Verona, down a wide hallway lined with portraits of previous presidents.

“Huh?” I asked. “I hadn’t realized you were paying attention.”

“Nothing escapes me.” He grinned at me. He had a smile that quirked to one side—the right—and made a dimple appear in his cheek. It felt at odds with the massively powerful dragon I knew lurked directly underneath. I liked that about him. There was a duality to him that really intrigued me.

It certainly didn’t hurt that he had some of the sexiest lips I’d ever seen in my life. They were pink and plump and had the nicest little Cupid’s bow at the center. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fantasize about how they’d feel against my lips.

Or against anywhere else on my body, for that matter .

“Thanks,” I said. I glanced ahead at Verona, who typed away furiously on her phone. “It’s something I got used to pretty quick. I can talk to people in that kind of environment, but then when the guardrails of fundraising and galas are taken away, I tend to turn into an awkward mess.”

“Why do you think that is?”

I gave an honest shrug. We turned and walked toward two open oak doors. It was my father’s office. I could hear him chatting with someone. He had a voice that carried. “I think it’s because I know all their crazy, dirty little secrets.”

“Really?”

“Nah, it’s probably just because I don’t really care about any of them. Or at least I don’t care what they think of me. Is that weird to say?”

Xavier shook his head. “Not at all. Makes sense to me.”

“Blake is a wonderful public speaker and an incredible guy,” Verona added as we slowed. “Sorry. I don’t want you to think I’ve been ignoring you both. I just have an issue with my babysitter I have to take care of.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. Verona had been working with my dad for over five years now. She had a cut-to-the-chase personality that was softened after getting to know her. Plus, she had the best dinner recommendations around. She knew all the top spots to eat.

We reached my father’s office. Verona knocked on the door and let us in.

My dad sat behind his desk, phone against his ear. Next to him was Joshua, Cassius’ father and the secretary of transportation. He crossed his arms against his pressed white shirt. His suit hung off the back of a leather seat, his tie slightly crooked. It seemed like he was stressed about something.

“Blake! How’s the event so far?” my father asked.

“Great,” I said. I walked around his huge desk and hugged him. “We’re still speaking, right?”

“I may have to cut my speech short. Something’s come up. Would you mind taking over the bit I have to drop? I have it written down here.”

“Sure,” I said before even looking at the paper. Public speaking was never my worry; it was private speaking that tripped me up.

Joshua glanced at his watch again. He looked worried. There was tension pulling at his thin brown eyebrows, his expression as tight as the fist hanging at his side. He caught my father’s gaze. Something in it must have told my father to “hurry the fuck up.” My dad rose, nearly knocking back his chair.

What the hell was going on?

“Perfect,” my dad said. “I’m going to handle something with Joshua and then meet you back at the gala. You two can stay in here to go over the speech.”

“Everything alright?” I asked him.

“Everything’s good,” Joshua answered. His tone was frigid. He was my dad’s best friend but quite his opposite. Where my father was warm and open, Joshua had an icy barrier to him. He wasn’t one to laugh at many jokes or crack too many smiles.

He and my father collected their things and left the office. Verona scurried behind them, still focused on fixing whatever happened with her babysitter.

“That was weird,” I said as the doors shut behind Verona. She was a Marvel, so a swish of her hands had red threads materialize behind her and pull the doors closed. “Or was that just me?”

Xavier looked to the closed doors. His eyes narrowed. “Not just you.”

“Probably some news pundit is going off the rails again. Reelection is coming up soon. There’s always fires to put out around this time.” I grabbed the papers off my dad’s desk and went over to the dark green couch. I sat perched on the edge of the cushion, reading over the script.

Xavier sat next to me, the couch dipping with his weight. He was close. There was plenty of room to sit, so why had he chosen to sit inches away from me? Was it just a mistake? Did it mean something? Was I losing it?

He held a hand out. “Want me to help?”

“I want you to sit a little more to the left. I’m getting hot in here.” I grabbed the collar of my shirt and gave it a couple of tugs.

Xavier listened to me. He shifted away, further on the couch.

Shit. That wasn’t what I wanted. I wasn’t even that hot. Why would I tell him that?

“Um, actually, wait. It must have been a hot flash. You can come back.”

Xavier laughed and came back. Except this time, he sat even closer to me.

Great. I was definitely going to go haywire now.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to get those,” Xavier noted.

“Didn’t realize you were a dragon doctor too. ”

“I am.” Xavier winked at me. I nearly melted into a puddle on the floor. “If you ever need a physical done, just ask.”

A. Physical. Done.

Okay. He was flirting with me now. Right?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “I do have a spot on my testicle I want to get checked.”

Hollllly fucking shit. What did I just say?

Xavier fumbled for words. I blinked through the shock, wishing I could turn back time. “That was a joke,” I said. I tried hard to laugh, except the sound came out closer to a strangled cry.

“Left or right one?” Xavier asked. He didn’t at all seem bothered by my testicle-in-mouth syndrome.

“Both. The mark is shaped like the state of New Jersey.”

That got a deep belly laugh from Xavier. “Not Jersey,” he said. “Does that mean the Holland Tunnel is right around the corner?”

“How did you know?” I lifted my butt from the seat and looked down at it.

Now we both laughed at the silly exchange. The severe wave of embarrassment quickly receded back into the ocean of emotions from where it came.

I looked down at the piece of paper. The laughter simmered down, but my smile stayed. “Back to this,” I said, although Xavier let go of a few residual chuckles. I started to read the part of my speech out loud. Speaking was easy when there were lines to memorize and spit out. I had the additional sectional down in about five minutes.

Xavier arched a brow, nodding. He appeared impressed at my ability to go off-book that quickly. “You’re really good at that.”

“I like it,” I said. My gaze involuntarily dropped back to his lips. He was clean-shaven, a beauty mark near the left corner of his top lip catching my attention. He sat even closer to me now.

Was that his breath I felt against my cheek?

A cloud of monarch butterflies fluttered into my chest. Heat pooled between my legs, making me extra aware of how inexperienced I was in that department and yet how needy I was. Being a twenty-six-year-old virgin wasn’t exactly high in my list of proud accomplishments.

Maybe it was time I got rid of that title?

Except the thought of losing my virginity with the sculpted god of a dragon sitting next to me made my head swim. I’d be self-conscious and awkward the entire time.

“Do you want to head back to the gala?” Xavier asked.

I could. I should.

“I think I need a few more minutes.”

“Take your time,” Xavier said. The way he looked at me made me feel like something exotic and rare sitting behind a glass barrier. I’d seen that look on people appreciating fine art in museums. Like they were searching for something in the bold strokes and patterns of color.

His lips. So pink, so perfect.

Moth. Flame.

Want.

I wasn’t sure how it happened. Maybe I blacked out for the few seconds it took my mouth to reach Xavier’s, but the lights flashed back on the second we kissed .

Bright lights. Blinding ones. Like staring directly at the sun and loving it.

Flames tickled my spine. My toes curled in my shiny black wingtips, the papers fluttering down to the ground. Xavier’s firm hand gripped the back of my neck, the kiss growing, the room spinning, my heart turning to complete mush even though it beat at about four hundred beats per second. It was like I had shifted into a hummingbird, not a wolf.

I surrendered to the moment, forgetting about the complications that kissing my bodyguard would bring. It was against every rule in the book, and yet I didn’t really give a fuck. In this moment, I didn’t want to be a good boy. I wanted to be bad.

A small moan escaped from my throat. It was like throwing a match into a gas leak. The kiss exploded. Xavier’s grip tightened as his tongue probed deeper, his other hand grabbing mine. Our fingers threaded together. His strong hand gripped mine, something that shouldn’t have been very intimate but somehow felt like he was taking my virginity then and there.

Another moan. More flickering flames. I climbed onto Xavier’s lap. My body had become its own controller. My brain solely focused on the drumbeat of need that pounded inside me. Xavier looked up at me, light brown eyes searing through me. “Is this wrong?” I asked him, desperately hoping he’d say no.

“Hooking up with the vice president’s son inside his own office while I’ve been contracted to protect him? Yeah, it might get us in some hot water.”

Damn. He was right. I moved to get off him.

His hands gripped my hips and held me down. “But I never cared about getting in a little bit of trouble. ”

I rested my weight on him, my dress pants bunching up and showing how badly I didn’t mind getting in trouble either. He throbbed underneath me. He was as into being bad as I was.

“Maybe we should lock the door?” I said, looking over my shoulder.

“Good idea.”

I stood up and tried to readjust myself so the bulge wasn’t as apparent. Xavier moved my hand to my side. “I like this view,” he said, eyes pinned on the shape of my hard dick.

“Oh,” I said. Warmth flushed across my cheeks. I became hyperaware of my blushing, which made me blush even more. I must have looked like a damn firetruck.

I turned and went to lock the door. This moment had to be something pulled out of my wildest dreams, and I wasn’t about to let anyone wake me up from it.

That’s when a scream ripped through the air and made my blood freeze.

An explosion shook the ground underneath me.

I threw the door open just as Verona ran past. A tiger shifter leapt through the air, ripping through the fragile barrier of red mana Verona tried to erect. Her phone flew out of her hand. It cracked against the wall. She tripped. Screamed again.

It all happened so fast. The tiger shifter tore into her throat. Blood sprayed across the wall and coated the portrait of President Cruz, some of it splattering on my shirt, landing on my mouth.

This wasn’t a dream at all—it was a complete nightmare.

The tiger turned its bloody face toward me and leapt.