Page 4 of Immortal Bastard (The Order of Vampires)

Stool Hog glared at the intruder. “What are you, her keeper?”

“Yes.”

That one word hit like a punch, knocking the wind out of her as heat tingled through her veins. Every muscle in her body went weak. Heat consumed her blood and her thighs pressed tight. She’d never seen the man before in her life, yet his classically beautiful face fit her definition of perfect so well, he seemed familiar as if he were literally the man of her dreams.

Wow, she silently mouthed, wondering what a man like that might do with a few extra hours and her naked body sprawled beneath him. Visions of entangled, sweaty limbs filled her mind. Mouths licking, bodies writhing, muscles contracting…

His glare snapped from Stool Hog to her and his nostrils flared. Was he having the same chemical response? Picturing the same sinful scene? Something in his intense stare told her he was.

Fuck the drink. This tall glass of water was better than anything the bar was serving. Yes, she definitely could see herself riding his face and wearing his cum before dawn.

His hand shot out, possessively curling around her shoulder, doing that thing when guys see a woman in trouble with a creeper and act like they know her.

She smiled and fluttered her lashes up at him, enjoying his possessive hold even if it was total bullshit. My hero…

His grip tightened on her bare shoulder, once again implying his interest. The strobe lights flashed against his catlike eyes and she frowned at the inhuman shape of his pupils. Was he wearing contacts?

“Look, buddy—”

“I’m not your buddy.” Mr. Gorgeous corrected the forgotten pest to her left.

He spoke with an accent, thick and heavy, hopefully like his cock.

Stool Hog took a disgruntled stance and started to rise. “We were having a perfectly nice conversation until—”

His words abruptly cut off as if they were physically trapped in his throat. Before he could lumber his fat ass off his seat, Mr. Gorgeous ordered him to rethink his next move. “Do not speak another word about her if you wish to keep your tongue. Get up and walk away. Now.”

Was this guy with the mafia? He delivered that threat with chilling assuredness as if he would not hesitate one millisecond to cut out the boomer’s tongue. It should have been a red flag, but if Delilah had a flag, she’d use it to mop up the mess that was now soaking her panties.

Who the hell was this guy?

Like a puppet on a string, the older man silently rose from the stool and ambled away, forgetting his cocktail and appearing as unsure as a lost child.

Delilah gaped at the now empty seat as the beautiful man slid more into view. Lean, carved muscle, not an ounce of fat on him. Talk about a brick shit house. No wonder the other guy didn’t put up a fight. This ripped Adonis could annihilate most men in one swing.

When he met her hungry stare with his own, she preened. Yup, she literally tittered like a giddy little schoolgirl as butterflies or some other cheesy romantic shit tickled her core. The swooning sensation was so intense she broke eye contact and fidgeted awkwardly. She couldn’t recall ever responding to a man in such a way.

“You do not have to be nervous around me, little one.”

A hundred fantasies raced through her head in the span of that glance, several starring her as the disobedient student in a short plaid skirt while he held a wooden ruler in that firm—holy shit those were some big hands. Her body melted, heat sinking deeper into her stomach and ruining her panties once and for all.

“Where are you from?” There was something old world about him. Maybe he was from an obscure place she never thought to visit like Bulgaria or Estonia.

“I’m originally from Portugal.” He scowled as he scanned the bar.

Was he looking for something? Maybe looking for someone. Delilah wanted his full attention so she leaned forward, trying to monopolize his view with what was likely the most desperate smile she’d ever given a man.

His menacing presence left no room for misinterpretation. He stood beside her like a bodyguard, assuring no other men would approach, but also appearing very put out by their surroundings.

“Do you get out much?” she asked, teasing him.

He didn’t laugh or smile. He just continued scanning the bar as if looking for threats. Okay, maybe this was a little weird.

“You’re not safe in a place of such ill repute.” His hand protectively pressed into her back.

She laughed and looked around, wondering if this was some sort of prank. “Did Lance and McGuire send you here to fuck with me?” He was pretty enough to be an actor.

His scowl deepened. “Who?”

“Lance and…” Her words faded as he moved closer, showing no recognition. “Never mind.”

Another wave of patrons crowded the bar and bumped her seat. He turned and growled something threatening in another language. The group of patrons immediately backed off and gave them space.