Page 22 of Red Fury (The Dragon Tributes #8)

S hadow

I put down my drink and take in Roman Kozlov. So this is the male that Fury, Webb, and Thompson are meeting with. Interesting.

To say I am taken aback is an understatement. What are the odds of running into him, of all people?

I don’t believe in coincidence, but…who knows? Maybe this is one of those rare times when it has happened.

I stare at Roman, my mind racing as I try to process this development.

The top question burning through my thoughts right now is, why the hell are they meeting with the club owner?

What could they possibly hope to achieve here?

This isn’t some government facility or military installation; it’s a nightclub.

Albeit an incredibly expensive, exclusive one.

There must be more here than meets the eye.

Roman Kozlov is certainly very interesting, to say the least.

“And?” Roman says, that knowing smile still playing on his lips. “Will you join me for a drink in the VIP section while you wait for your friends?”

My pulse quickens. This is exactly what I need – access to the VIP area where I can observe Fury and his team without them knowing I’m here. At least, not immediately. I need to find out what the hell is going on.

“I would love that,” I say, extending my hand, smiling. “I’m Claire, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Claire.” He takes my hand in both of his, the handshake lasting longer than necessary.

The first thing I notice is how soft his hands are. Nothing like Fury’s calloused palms and strong grip that speak of hard work and physical training. These are the hands of a man who’s never done manual labor in his life, manicured and smooth as silk.

As he releases my hand, I catch sight of what looks like a nasty scar on the side of his neck, partially hidden by his collar. The mark is jagged and old, like something tried to tear his throat out years ago. I quickly avert my gaze before he notices me staring.

“Shall we?” he asks, placing his hand on my lower back, fingers splayed.

I glance back at the abandoned whiskey sitting on the bar counter, but Roman doesn’t seem concerned about leaving it behind. Clearly, money isn’t an object for him.

“Sure,” I say, and his hand presses against me, a little firmer this time, guiding me toward the elevator.

Two massive males fall into step behind us. His security detail, I realize. They’re even larger than the bouncers at the entrance, and there’s something about the way they move that suggests military or law enforcement backgrounds.

Who the hell is this guy?

The bouncers stationed at the VIP elevator immediately straighten when they see Roman approaching. One of them says something in what sounds like Russian. I’m pretty sure it’s a greeting. They both drop their gazes in a form of submission.

Roman responds with a curt nod, and we step into the elevator.

It doesn’t take long before we reach the VIP floor, and I immediately spot my targets.

Webb, Thompson, and Fury are seated at a prime table with an excellent view of the dance floor below. Thompson is chatting animatedly with a stunning redhead in a green dress, while Webb is pouring himself a glass of champagne.

And Fury…

My breath catches in my throat, despite my best efforts to remain composed. He’s smiling at the redhead, leaning back in his chair with that easy confidence that makes my dragon purr. I remember Thompson’s words from earlier about Fury wanting to get laid tonight, and jealousy crashes over me.

Why?

For the first time in my entire life, I understand what jealousy actually feels like. The way it claws at your insides, making you want to act out of character. I hate the feeling, hate how it makes me feel weak and vulnerable, so I shove it aside.

There is no time for such nonsense.

He’s nothing to me. Less than nothing. Just a Red I’m temporarily working with, and apparently not even that anymore, after our fight earlier.

“This way,” Roman says, his hand back on my lower back as he steers me toward a section that’s separated from the general VIP area.

For a moment, nervousness flickers through me.

I’m following a complete stranger to an isolated area, and I don’t know anything about his intentions.

Then I almost laugh at my paranoia. He’s a puny human, for crying out loud.

I’m a fucking apex predator who could tear him apart without breaking a sweat.

Why do I feel unsure and uneasy?

I’m just being silly, that’s all.

Still, I breathe a small sigh of relief when I see that while his private section is indeed to one side of the main VIP area, it’s still very much in public, with clear views of the club space below. No soundproof rooms or hidden corners where someone could disappear without being noticed.

I choose a seat that will make it difficult for Fury to spot me easily. It has a great view of both the main VIP section and the floor below. Almost instantly, a waitress appears at our table as if she’d been waiting in the wings for Roman’s arrival.

“Good evening, Mr. Kozlov,” she says, her voice breathless with the kind of reverence usually reserved for royalty. “What can I get for you tonight?”

“The usual,” he says without looking at her, his attention focused entirely on me.

The waitress turns to me with the same eager-to-please expression. “And for you, miss?”

“I’ll have the same cocktail I had downstairs,” I say. “The Black Blood Special.”

Roman’s smile widens with approval. “Excellent choice. It’s our signature drink.”

The waitress hurries away to fulfill our order, and Roman turns his full attention back to me.

“So, Claire,” he says, “tell me about yourself. I’m very interested in getting to know all about you.”

I take a breath, slipping back into my cover identity. “There isn’t much to tell, honestly. I’m pretty boring.”

He laughs, the sound rich. “I highly doubt that. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a personal assistant,” I say, which is technically true. “Completely boring profession, I’m afraid. I type. I file… I’m sure you know the drill.”

“It’s honest work. There’s nothing wrong with being a personal assistant, Claire.”

“I know that. I’m happy.”

“And what do you like to do for fun?”

The waitress returns with our drinks, setting them down carefully. She hovers for a moment, clearly hoping for some acknowledgment from Roman, but he dismisses her with a subtle gesture.

When she’s gone, he asks the question again. “What do you do for fun, Claire?”

I shrug. “I enjoy staying in shape,” I say, taking a sip of my cocktail. It’s really good. “I spend a lot of time in the gym. Other than that, I’m super boring. I like reading and binge-watching murder mysteries on Netflix… That sort of thing.”

“And going out with your friends once in a while. You’re here tonight, aren’t you?”

I pause, choosing my words carefully. “I was invited by friends and almost didn’t even come. This isn’t really my thing.” I gesture toward our surroundings, then quickly add, “Not that there’s anything wrong with your club. It’s clearly the place to be. I can see why it’s so exclusive.”

Roman laughs. “No offense taken. So, this isn’t your vibe?”

“I prefer smaller, quieter. I like good food and…”

“Good company?” He lifts his brows.

“Of course.” I smile.

He glances to the right and then puts his tumbler down. “Would you please excuse me for a moment?” he says, standing. “I need to say hello to some friends of mine. I’ll be right back.”

He leans down, his voice dropping to something more intimate. “Promise me you won’t go anywhere, not even if you see your friends. I’ll send my people to fetch them and bring them up here. Your friends are more than welcome in the VIP section.”

“That’s very generous of you,” I say, genuinely surprised by the offer. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

He walks away toward the main VIP area.

I sip my cocktail and watch the crowd below. My view of Fury and the others is obscured. I try to get a visual by leaning to the side.

Holy crap.

Kozlov is on his way back here, and the others are with him. Fury, too.

For just a moment, I think of running or hiding, but there is nowhere to go. I’m being silly. I had planned on facing them…him before long. Just not this soon.

I sit back down and take a big fortifying gulp of my drink before crossing my legs and sitting up tall.

I belong here just as much as they do…just as much as he does. The asshole!

Then they come around the corner, and Fury’s eyes lock onto mine across the space.

I watch his expression shift from interest, to shock, to something much darker.

He looks me up and down as he approaches, his jaw ticking with barely controlled anger.

His eyes are blazing with a fury that has nothing to do with his name and everything to do with finding me here.

He looks pissed.

“Claire!” Webb exclaims as soon as he sees me, moving forward to embrace me. “What a wonderful surprise! I had no idea you were coming to Black Blood tonight.”

“Hello, Laurence,” I say, returning his hug with what I hope looks like genuine pleasure. “Fancy meeting you here.”

I don’t get the same warm welcome from Fury, who mutters the barest of greetings while maintaining his distance. The temperature between us could freeze the entire club.

Just then, Thompson arrives with the redhead in tow, and I get my first close look at Fury’s potential conquest for the evening. She’s stunning, with great curves and glossy hair and the kind of confidence that comes from knowing every man in the room wants her.

She immediately plasters herself against Fury’s side, her hand resting on his chest like it belongs there. My dragon wants to gnaw it off.

“I’m Bella,” she announces with a bright smile, introducing herself to both Roman and me before turning her attention right back to Fury. She has stars in her eyes and an adoring smile.

I work at keeping my expression neutral, but inside, my dragon is snarling. Okay, maybe I want to gnaw off more than just her arm.

“I ran into Thompson at the hotel,” I explain, forcing my voice to remain light and casual. “He mentioned you were all coming to Black Blood, and I was feeling a bit bored, so I thought I’d join you. I hope that’s okay?”

“It’s more than okay!” Thompson says, pulling me into an enthusiastic hug. “I’m so happy you’re here. This night just keeps getting better and better.”

Roman moves behind my chair, his hand coming to rest on my back in a gesture that feels distinctly possessive. “What a wonderful surprise that the friends you were meeting are also my friends. It seems like quite a coincidence.”

There’s something in his tone.

“We should sit and enjoy the evening,” he continues, surveying our group.

Thompson starts to pull up additional chairs, but Bella waves him off with a laugh.

“That’s not necessary,” she says, pushing Fury down into his chair. Before anyone can react, she plunks herself directly onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“That’s better.” She nuzzles against his neck. “I’m not too heavy, am I?” She giggles.

Fury doesn’t answer. His gaze is still on me. He’s still pissed.

Fury can go fuck himself. Screw him. Better yet, that redhead can do it. She can have him!

Roman sits in the chair next to me, draping his arm along the back in a way that brings him closer to my personal space. He leans in close enough that I can feel his breath against my ear.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, and I realize he must have picked up on my tension.

I turn to look at him, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

For the next several minutes, we make small talk while I try not to watch Bella’s shameless flirtation with Fury. She’s running her fingers through his hair, whispering things in his ear, pressing her breasts against his chest every chance she gets.

And Fury? He just sits there. He doesn’t encourage her, but he doesn’t stop her, either. He just sits there like a fucking statue while she drapes herself all over him like a second skin.

Until I can’t take it anymore.

“You know what?” I say, standing abruptly and managing to pull off what I hope looks like an easy smile. “I think I’m going to go dance. The music is incredible.”

“Claire, wait—” Fury says.

“Claire—” Roman says, too, and almost at the same time.

But I’m already walking away, my blood boiling with emotions I refuse to name. If I don’t get away from this table right now, I’m going to accidentally kill Bella.

And what a stupid name that is, anyway.

I stride toward the dance floor. I need to move and get my mind off what’s going on at the table. Off him!

I need space. I need air. I need to get away from the sight of another woman’s hands all over the man who…

I picture his head buried between my legs and recall the epic orgasm that followed.

No!

I’m not going there. Fury means nothing to me. Less than nothing.

So why does watching him with someone else make me feel this way?

Why?

I hate it.

I want it to stop.