Page 21 of Red Fury (The Dragon Tributes #8)

F ury

“So, tell me, Damien,” Bella starts to say, leaning in until her breast presses against my arm, “what do you do for fun…when you’re not looking so handsome, that is?”

I take another sip of champagne, trying to focus on her words instead of scanning the VIP area for any sign of Kozlov. This conversation has been going in circles for the past ten minutes, and I’m starting to understand why humans invented small talk – it’s torture disguised as politeness.

“I work out a lot,” I say, giving the same answer I gave Thompson previously. “I like to keep in shape.”

She giggles, the sound high and artificial. “I bet you do.” Her hand slides down to rest on my bicep, squeezing. “Mmmmmmm, you certainly feel like you keep in shape, big boy.”

Is this what passes for flirting among humans? The constant touching, the stupid questions about nothing, the eyelash batting that’s becoming so frequent I’m starting to worry she has something in her eye.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks, tilting her head and giving me what I assume is supposed to be a sultry look.

“It’s complicated,” I mutter, which is the understatement of the fucking century.

“Complicated can be fun,” she says with another giggle, her fingers now tracing patterns on my chest through my shirt. “I like complicated men. They’re more…interesting.”

She giggles again.

How do I make her stop?

I’m about to excuse myself to use the restroom when movement catches my eye across the VIP section. A familiar figure walks from the private elevator, and my entire body goes tense.

Kozlov.

Finally.

He’s got someone with him. I lean over, trying to get a better look. It’s a woman, based on the flash of long legs and stilettos I just manage to see past Kozlov. I think she’s tall, but Kozlov’s massive frame blocks my view of everything except those legs and her shoes.

Something prickles inside me, but I can’t quite get a handle on it.

“Are you even listening to me?” Bella’s voice cuts through my thoughts, a note of irritation apparent.

I drag my attention back to her, noting the slight pout on her glossy lips. “Sorry, what were you saying, Bella?”

She brightens immediately, apparently willing to forgive my momentary lapse. “I was asking if you wanted to dance.” She stands and tugs on my arm with both hands, her grip surprisingly strong. “Come on, the music is perfect, and I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” She winks at me.

I highly doubt it.

I glance toward Webb, catching his eye. “Kozlov’s here,” I tell him, leaning forward. “Just arrived. He’s got someone with him.”

Webb straightens in his chair, his gaze immediately searching the VIP area. “Where?”

“He disappeared around the corner, but I’m sure he knows we’re here.”

“Good,” Webb says, visibly relaxing. “About time.”

I want to follow Kozlov and get to business, but that would be rude. The male invited us here as his guests; the polite thing to do is wait for him to approach us when he’s ready.

Even if the waiting is killing me.

If he makes me wait too long, I will take things into my own hands.

“So?” Bella says, still tugging on my arm. “Dance? Please? I promise you’ll love it.” She does this little bounce on her heels.

“I appreciate the offer,” I say, gently but firmly extracting my arm from her grip, “but I can’t right now. I have a meeting shortly. I need to be available. And honestly,” I smile at her, trying hard to be nice, “I’m not much of a dancer.”

She laughs, the sound genuinely amused this time, instead of that artificial giggle. “Oh, please. A man like you? I bet you have plenty of rhythm.” Her voice drops to what she probably thinks is a seductive whisper. “I would love to test the theory.”

Again, I don’t think she’s talking about dancing.

“I’m sure you’re wrong about that,” I tell her.

“Come on,” she tries again, her hands reaching for me. “Just one dance, Damien. What could it hurt?”

Before I can decline again, Thompson stands and holds up his hand.

“What about a dance with me instead?” he asks with a grin, extending his hand toward Bella. “I’ve been dying to get out there since we arrived.”

Bella’s face falls slightly – clearly, I was her first choice – but she recovers quickly. “Yeah, um…” She looks over at me, and when I don’t say anything, she takes Thompson’s offered hand. “But you owe me a dance later.” She points a perfectly manicured finger at me.

I nod and watch as they head toward the upper-level dance floor, which is just as packed and energetic as the main floor below.

The moment they’re gone, Webb turns to me with exasperation written all over his face.

“What the hell are you doing, Marsh?” he demands, leaning forward in his chair.

“That woman was practically throwing herself at you. Beautiful, willing, and clearly interested in no-strings-attached fun.” He shakes his head.

“I’d give just about anything for a night with someone like that, and you’re just…

letting her walk away? What the fuck, man? !”

Before I can answer, our waitress reappears at the table, her professional smile bright as ever.

“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” she asks, noting our empty champagne flutes. The bottle of Cristal is upside down in the bucket.

“More of the same,” Webb says immediately. “The good stuff. We’re celebrating.” He winks at her.

“And for you, sir?” she asks, turning to me.

“Just a beer.”

Her eyebrows lift slightly. “We have an excellent selection of imported beers. We have some beautiful German—”

“Local is good,” I interrupt. “Whatever you’ve got on tap will do just fine.”

“Of course.” She nods and disappears back into the crowd.

Webb stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Beer? We’re drinking thousand-dollar champagne courtesy of one of the richest men in America, and you order beer?”

I shrug. “I like beer.”

“That’s not the point,” Webb says, frustration evident in every line of his body.

“The point is that you need to make the most of our time here. We may never get invited to a place like this again. You should be drinking the expensive drinks, eating the expensive food, and yes, sleeping with one or two of these incredible women. I recommend two…at once.” He laughs.

Webb glances toward the dance floor, where Bella is thrusting her hips to the pulsing beat.

“I guarantee you that redhead would be amazing in bed. Flexible, enthusiastic, grateful…” He trails off, his eyes taking on a slightly glazed quality. “You need to live a little, Marsh. Take advantage of all of this.” He lifts his hands and looks around us.

I force a smile and nod like I agree with him, playing the part of the guy who’s just being cautious instead of completely uninterested.

But the truth is, even as Bella was pressed against me, even as she made it crystal clear what she was offering, all I could think about was someone else.

Green eyes instead of brown. Short hair instead of long red waves. A smart mouth that challenges me instead of giggling and empty compliments.

The taste of her pussy on my tongue. The desperate sounds she’d made as she came apart on my mouth. The way her slick channel clenched around my fingers like she never wanted to let me go.

Fuck.

I shift in my chair, working to keep my body from responding. The last thing I need is to get hard, here and now.

The smart thing would be to take him up on his advice. Find some willing woman – Bella or someone like her – and work out all this pent-up sexual frustration. Get Shadow out of my system, once and for all.

But even as I consider it, the idea leaves me cold. I don’t want some random woman. I can’t have Shadow. My hand will do just fine.

Our waitress returns with our drinks – another bottle of Cristal for Webb and a beer for me. She’s about to set them down when a familiar voice cuts through the ambient noise of the club.

“Good evening, gentlemen.” Kozlov appears beside our table. He’s wearing another designer suit.

Webb practically falls over himself getting to his feet. “Roman! This place is incredible. Absolutely amazing. Thank you so much for inviting us. The champagne, the atmosphere, the…everything. It’s beyond anything I could have imagined.”

I stand as well, offering a more restrained greeting. “Evening, Mr. Kozlov.”

“Please, call me Roman,” he says, extending his hand. His grip is firm, testing, just like it was this afternoon. “You are my guests tonight. I hope you’re both enjoying yourselves.”

“Absolutely,” Webb gushes. “This is living.”

Kozlov’s smile widens. “Good. I have a private table around the corner. It is quieter, better view. Why don’t you join me?”

Webb’s eyes widen with shock at the invitation, but he quickly schools his emotions. “We’d be honored,” he says.

Kozlov looks at the waitress. “Bring their drinks to my table. And when the rest of their party finishes dancing, direct them that way as well.” He glances at Bella and Thompson, who are still dancing.

“Of course, Mr. Kozlov.”

We follow him through the VIP section, past other tables full of beautiful people. As we walk, Kozlov leans closer to Webb…and thank fuck for my superior hearing.

“I made some calls after our meeting,” he says, his voice pitched low beneath the music. “It’s looking very good that I’ll be able to acquire the items you requested. Give me a week to finalize the arrangements. Then it will be roughly another fourteen days and you can take delivery.”

Webb’s face lights up like Christmas morning. “That’s fantastic news. Absolutely fantastic.”

“The price will be steeper than we initially discussed,” Kozlov warns, fixing Webb with those pale blue eyes. “Significantly steeper.” He gives the male a hard look.

“How much are we talking?”

“Thirty percent more.”

“Not a problem,” Webb says quickly. “We had a budget meeting this afternoon. Secretary Harrison himself presented. Final approvals came through as expected. It’s a green light on our end.”

Kozlov reaches out and slaps Webb on the shoulder – a seemingly friendly gesture that nearly sends Webb flying. He stumbles, barely managing to keep his footing as Kozlov laughs.

“Forgive me,” Kozlov says, though he doesn’t look particularly sorry. “I sometimes forget my own strength.”

Something about the casual display of power makes my dragon stir.

“Tonight is not for business,” Kozlov continues, raising his voice, turning that intense gaze on me. “Tonight is for relaxation. For enjoyment. For forgetting the weight of our responsibilities.”

I force myself to smile and nod, even though inside I’m reeling. Nuclear weapons. My people. I know it like I know my own name.

I need to get out of here. I need to find Shadow, apologize for being such an ass, and share what I’ve learned. But first, I need to get through this without blowing my cover. One more drink and I’ll make an excuse and leave. I’ll go straight to her. We need to figure this out.

Fuck!

We round the corner toward Kozlov’s private section, and I nearly trip over my own feet.

The woman sitting at Kozlov’s private table, the one I glimpsed earlier but couldn’t identify…

It’s Shadow.

It’s her!

And she looks absolutely fucking stunning.

The black dress she is wearing hugs every curve of her body like it was painted on, ending at mid-thigh to show off those incredible legs. From this angle, I can see that the back dips dangerously low, exposing the smooth expanse of her spine and the dimples just above her ass.

She’s not wearing a bra, and her tits are perfection to the point where my mouth waters. Her short hair is styled in a way that makes her look sophisticated and so fucking sexy.

She’s exquisite. I’m pretty sure my mouth has dropped open. I might even be drooling.

But then reality crashes back in, and anger surges through me, alongside the unwanted desire.

What the hell is she doing here?

What the hell is this?

Shadow has some serious explaining to do.