Page 51 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)

Before anyone can respond, the waitress—the one with the jeweled collar—approaches with a wheeled cart and our drinks.

She distributes them one by one, making sure to lean over the table as she does.

She brushes against my shoulder each time, and I bite back the growl forming in my chest. Instead, I force myself to ignore her.

I glance at the others, checking their reactions to her obvious display of her assets—one I’m sure was encouraged by her owner.

Nolan and Cassandra are busy with their act, his fingertips lowering the thin strap of her dress down her shoulder, but Dominic’s eyes fill with disgust and anger as he watches our server.

“See anything you like?” I say to Dominic as I nudge him with my elbow and nod at the room with my chin .

He tears his eyes from her, schooling his expression to one that’s close to disinterest. “I’m still deciding.”

“As am I,” I agree. “So far, Ulysses is the only one of us having any fun tonight.”

I smirk and turn my focus on Nolan and Cassandra as the server saunters away with the wheeled cart, heading towards another nearby table that beckons her to take their drink orders.

One of Nolan’s hands traces the neckline of Cassandra’s dress, and the other cups her ass, his fingers disappearing from sight between her legs.

His eyes flash as he looks at my gloating face and then Dominic’s shoulders that shake—albeit barely—with quiet laughter. “Are you two enjoying the show?”

I cock my head to the side. “Do you want an honest answer?”

“Forget I asked,” he grumbles, going back to ignoring me and watching Cassandra’s reactions to his touch.

My smirk widens and turns into a full grin. “I think you’re enjoying us watching you more than you want to admit.”

“He is,” Cassandra replies through mindlink as she rocks her hips against Nolan’s lap, her eyes sparkling with defiance.

His nostrils flare, and his eyes flash with his wolf as he subtly shakes his head at her, scolding her. “Did I tell you to move like that, Daisy?”

She shakes her head but doesn’t apologize. Instead, she does it again. Quick as a wink, Nolan’s hand that was cupping her ass delivers a swift, sharp smack to her bare skin, and Cassandra gives a small yelp of surprise.

I lower my chin to my chest, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles from my suit jacket to hide my amusement. Dominic covers his mouth with his fist and tears his gaze from them, staring out at the occupants of the club.

“What did you mean?” Dominic wraps his hand around his beer bottle and leans forward on the table. “When you asked about King Malachi’s plans for the aftermath?”

“These females are going to need help,” I point out, scanning the club with him.

Once again, I feel the weight of their haunted expressions and underfed bodies. It drags my heart into the pit of my stomach. Sarina could be one of these girls if circumstances were different. She could end up like them if we miss our chance or fuck up our plan.

I sigh. “They’ll need intense therapy and medical care in order to heal from all this. ”

I shift my attention to Nolan and Cassandra.

It’s the only place I can look right now.

Otherwise, I may go on a rampage and ruin everything we’re planning.

Plus, watching them is an excellent way to hide that we’re mindlinking.

Anyone paying attention to us is less likely to question why we’re not talking if they see us enjoying Cassandra’s performance.

“Some of them may never heal completely.” Nolan continues to play with Cassandra, eyes glued to her blushing face and heaving chest.

Cassandra lowers her lashes as if she’s lost in rapturous pleasure instead of hiding the flash of pain in her eyes. “Trauma always leaves behind a mark,” she whispers in our minds.

Nolan lifts his hand to her face, and she leans forward, pressing her forehead against his briefly before they both resume their sensuous act.

His hand slides from her cheek to her neck, and he squeezes.

Her back arches as she presses her body closer to his, playing her role as a responsive, willing submissive to mask her need for comfort from his touch.

Dominic huffs out a wry laugh. “Ain’t that the truth?” His fist tightens on his beer, a wry smile on his lips as he jerks his free thumb at me. “I’d drink to that, except Sebastian over here ordered us not to.”

I shake my head at him. “I’m not in charge of you or above you in rank. You’re a royal warrior on a special assignment for the king. I’m just the delta of a small pack. If anything, you outrank me. If you want to take the risk of being drugged, be my guest.”

He cracks his neck and pushes the bottle further away.

Then he leans back against the seat, crossing his arms. “You’re our leader for this mission now.

I don’t have to follow your orders, but it would be disrespectful if I didn’t.

” A spark of humor flashes in his eyes, but it darkens and vanishes a second later.

“ Incoming.” He straightens his posture.

I follow his gaze towards a male crossing towards our table.

He’s got slicked-back hair, a gold chain necklace, and a white shirt with one too many buttons undone.

His pace is casual as he stalks over to us, but his eyes lock on me like a hawk.

A cruel grin splits his lips in two, and a gold tooth that matches the chain hanging down his bared chest flashes in the dim club lighting.

“Henry Brown?” He reaches our table and holds his hand out for me to shake. “My name is Nuncio. Welcome to my club.”