Page 19 of Red Fury

My dragon snarls.

Fury glances up at that moment, his eyes sweeping the bar until they lock with mine. Even across the crowded room, I feel the impact of that gaze rake over me. He lifts his brows and smiles at me.

I take a sip of my martini, looking away. Of course, my eyes are drawn back against my will.

The waitress is still talking, still touching, still making it abundantly clear that she’s available for whatever he has in mind. I find myself studying his face, waiting to see if he’ll take the bait.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

I tear my attention away from Fury to find a man standing beside my table. It’s the male who bought me the shot. I should never have accepted it. Human males seem to think that if they buy you a drink, it automatically means that you owe them something.

“I thought you looked lonely.” His approach is smoother than the last guy’s. At least his smile looks more genuine. Still…

“Thank you for the drink, but I’m not interested.”

“Come now, don’t be unfriendly. I’m James.” He sits on the chair across from me, anyway, completely ignoring my objection. “I saw you turn down that amateur earlier, but I’m not some college boy trying to impress you with Daddy’s credit card.”

“I’m still not interested.”

“You haven’t even given me a chance.” His smile has become tight and doesn’t reach his eyes. “I can show you things that boy never could. I know what a woman like you really wants.”

Well, excuse the hell out of me.

“I really am not interested.” I glance at his ring finger. It’s dented. He has taken off his ring for the night.

Asshole!

“Playing hard to get? I like that in a woman.” He leans forward, his voice dropping to what he probably thinks is a seductive whisper. “But we both know you didn’t come here to drink alone. You’re looking for something, and I can give it to you.”

My dragon is pushing against my skin now, scales trying to emerge. I grip my martini glass so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter.

“I doubt that very much. I’m. Not. Interested.”

“I can tell that you’re on edge…that you need a real man to make you feel good. I’m your guy.”

I’m about to tell him in no uncertain terms what he can do with himself when a massive shadow falls across the table. I look up to see Fury standing behind James. I can feel the menace radiating from him in waves. His face is perfectly calm, but his eyes… Holy shit…the look in his eyes is downright feral.

“Is there a problem here?” Fury’s voice is quiet, conversational even, but there’s something underneath it that makes my skin prickle. “Is this guy bothering you?”

James turns in his chair, clearly ready to tell this interloper to mind his own business. But when he sees Fury – really gets a good look at him – all the color drains from his face as his gaze moves up and up and higher still.

“I…no…um…no problem at all,” James stammers, practically falling over himself to get out of the chair. “We were just… I…I was just leaving. I swear I didn’t mean any harm.”

He scurries away without another word, hightailing it right out of the bar.

I watch him go, then look up at Fury with what I hope is an unimpressed expression. “I can handle myself, you know. I didn’t need you to rescue me.”

“I know you can.” He sits in the chair the asshole just vacated, his long legs barely fitting. “But that guy was threeseconds away from finding out exactly how well you can handle yourself, and I figured you probably don’t want to explain to Harrison why his PA was arrested for assault. Or why you had scales pop out all over your face whilst battling to keep your beast under control. How would you explain that one away?”

Damn, he has a point.

“Bottom line, you looked like you were about to shift and tear his throat out.”

Heat floods my cheeks. Was I that obvious?

“Thanks for the help. I’m all good now. You should probably get back to your waitress friend,” I say, nodding toward the female who’s now giving me a death stare from across the bar. “She looks just about ready to end her shift so that you can take her home.”

Fury follows my gaze and shrugs. “She’s not my type.”