Page 19 of One Bad Knight

The serious expression that swept over his face left me feeling both hollow and uncertain. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me.

The boy who destroyed my world stood in front of me, and instead of flying at him in a violent rage, I found myself captured by him.

My voice came out quieter than I liked. “Next time I won’t be caught off guard, and I’ll bring demon repellent.”

I was half-joking. The infomercials claimed Demon No-No spray was the answer. But I’d count on something a little sharper. At the very least, I’d be back in the dojo tomorrow.

He bowed his head closer, and his scent washed over me. “I mean you wanted me to save you from that idiot on the dance floor.”

“He seemed like a perfectly nice guy,” I countered, though I struggled to swallow. The heat of his hands engulfed mine. I could smell him… a mixture of sex and home. It was criminal to smell that good.

“No,” he rasped. “You were too good for him. He moved like a clumsy oaf and you tolerated him. You wanted someone to come meet you on your level. Someone who can keep up with you, princess.”

My protest at him calling me princess again died in my throat as he leaned in farther. Lips parted, eyes trained on mine, I was certain he was about to kiss me. I could practically taste the cinnamon on his lips. Had he been chewing gum?

“Why did you say those things to me on the dance floor?” I managed to get out. The dirty image he’d painted played on repeat in my head all day. The one where my stiletto dug in his shoulder while he lapped at my sex in front of everyone.

Something in his gaze faltered, as if I’d thrown him off. “It was a cover. Meant to distract you.”

I gestured with my glass at him. "You’re an absolute shit liar, you know that?”

“Kitty Kat,” a male voice cut through the intimacy like a butcher knife.

I jerked back and out of Gatsby’s hold.

Gatsby held his wrist and took a step, his expression flattening.

So engrossed, I hadn’t noticed the three men approach.

“Jimi,” I acknowledged while smoothing down my dress. His friends Alan and Ross were with him, as always. They were all built with thick muscles since they’d played on the same rugby and polo teams since middle school. Alan and Ross had shorter necks and were even stockier than Jimi.

The blond, freckled man shot Gatsby a suspicious glare as he spoke to me. “Who’s this? I don’t believe we’ve met before.” The grin Jimi gave Gatsby was purely plastic as he held out his hand.

“Um this is…”This was the boy who I couldn’t decide if he was saving me or ruining my life whenever I saw him.

“I’m Gatsby, her bodyguard.” Instead of shaking Jimi’s hand, Gatsby moved next to me as if to back me up.

I shot Gatsby a look that let him know we’d be talking about his chosen title later.

Jimi closed his fingers into a fist and dropped his arm with an almost predatory smile now. “I didn’t realize her body needed guarding. And from what I just saw, it looks like she might need some protection from you.”

Gatsby started forward, but I stopped him with a hand on his chest. I didn’t know how Gatsby defeated that little demon girl or if maybe he just chased her off. But Jimi was pure brute muscle, and the last thing my uncle or this party needed was a brawl.

“Did you need something, Jimi?” I asked with saccharine sweetness, redirecting the conversation.

Finally peeling his gaze off Gatsby, Jimi shot me an earnest look. “Yes, actually. I was hoping for a moment alone with you.”

Internally, I sighed, but I didn’t want a scene, so I nodded. My hand was still on Gatsby’s hard, warm chest. “I’ll be right back.” I hoped he caught the plea in my eyes not to follow and not to make a scene in my absence.

Jimi escorted me over to the majestic mermaid where we were out of earshot of anyone. Jimi flashed me a brilliant smile. He would have made Barbie swoon and given Ken a run for his money. He tucked an errant hair behind my ear, in what should have been a romantic gesture, but I felt less than nothing.

The skin along the back of my neck prickled with heat. Gatsby was watching our every move.

“I’m glad to see you here. You look perfect as usual,” he flattered.

I managed a half-smile for his benefit, but for some reason it always bothered me to be told I looked or acted perfect. That was oddly what I strived to do and be, but it always hit me wrong when I heard it out loud.

Strangely, I itched to get back to ignoring Gatsby.