Burning Bright (15 page)

“Hey,” a breathy voice greeted. “You’re pretty good at this.”

He turned his head to find a muscular dancer, a few inches taller and dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, looming behind him.

“He’s with me,” Marty interrupted, dancing between them. “Find your own.”

The man eyed him, something in his gaze that made Sasha’s stomach tighten. “Marty…”

“It’s all good,” the big man drawled. His brown hair seemed artfully messy and sparkled a little in the lights with gold highlights.

Sasha danced away and found Dillon watching him. The blond winked and Sasha grinned. They danced back and forth for the next several songs, and Sasha, laughing, finally called a break. He tipped his head to the bathroom and Dillon nodded.

“You’re the vet, aren’t you?” Dillon asked once the relative quiet of the bathroom closed around them.

“Sasha Soskoff. I remember seeing you on stage. Dillon, right?” And a werefox. Curiosity burned in his chest.

“Dillon Kendall. You’re a really good dancer.”

Sasha grinned, pleased. “High praise. You’re amazing.”

“Thanks. I teach dance and yoga—” He trailed off when the door opened.

The big guy from the dance floor appeared. “Hey.”

Sasha turned away. “I’m not interested.”

“Your boyfriend is out there with another man. Funny thing, though. They look like a couple. You don’t.”

“Don’t you mean smell, Mitch?” Dillon snapped.

“If it isn’t the little Foxy Lady. Craig let go of the leash?”

“
You’re
Mitch,” Sasha said. “Neal know you’re here?”

Annoyance crossed Mitch’s face.

“See, I’m not the only one with a leash,” Dillon taunted.

Mitch took a step toward him and Dillon streaked out the door.

“Just you and me now, Princess,” Mitch purred.

Sasha turned back to the sink, tired suddenly. “Go away. I’m not interested.”

Mitch’s hand closed on his upper arm, probably to pull him around to face the bigger man but Sasha’s temper snapped. He spun, locking Mitch’s elbow, and then threw him bodily over his hips. The other man landed on his back, shock on his face. The smack he made sounded satisfyingly painful and Sasha faced him in a crouch, angry now.

Mitch put out both hands in a gesture of truce. “Whoa, dude. Ease up there, cowboy. Neal teach you that? Or you come that way?”

The door slammed open and Dillon’s top appeared, his face furious. “Back off, Mitch.”

“Well, if it isn’t little Craig, the boss-man of Chicago,” Mitch growled.

TJ walked up behind Craig, glaring at Mitch. “Son of a bitch.”

Sasha swallowed. TJ looked good, dressed in a sleeveless button-down rayon shirt, open at the throat. The sage green of the shirt brought out the peridot in his hazel eyes. He bore a black tattoo on his muscular biceps, two crossed rifles and the Marine initials below it.

He also looked angry enough to kill something.

Mitch’s eyes grew cautious. “Hey, Teej.”

“You takin’ a nap?” TJ sneered.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Mitch rolled to his feet. “Since when do you dance?”

Craig stepped inside the door and TJ moved past him, letting the door close behind him. Dillon slipped in before it shut and stood behind Craig, glaring at Mitch.

“You told Boris you checked in with Neal.” TJ’s tone came out very menacing.

Sasha shivered. Any sign of the cautious and wary soldier disappeared. TJ radiated power, and not only to Sasha’s empathy. With his arms bared like that, the muscles on TJ’s arms bulked with muscle.

Mitch washed his hands. “Yeah.”

“You haven’t.”

“Fuck off, Teej. That’s between me and Neal.”

TJ took a step forward. “You and I are gonna have that talk for real one of these days, Mitchell.”

Mitch turned and faced him, drying his hands with a paper towel. “Maybe. We’re not in the Corps anymore. You don’t outrank me here, not today. Not today, Teej.”

TJ glanced at Sasha. “You okay, Doc?”

“What the fuck is the deal here, anyway?” Mitch demanded, facing Sasha. “You smell like Neal.
And
Steve and Carlos, actually.”

“What the fuck do you care?” TJ cut in. “You wanted to leave, remember?”

Mitch blinked, eyeing Sasha. “I’m just asking the question.”

Sasha glared at him. “Ask Neal.” He walked around TJ to the door. “You wanna dance?” he asked Dillon.

“Yeah. Craig?”

“Go ahead,” Craig told him.

Sasha’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t comment. He liked to play in the scene, but couldn’t foresee a time when he’d allow Neal to dictate whether he could do something in public or not. He followed the slender fox back to the dance floor. He turned and jumped. Craig followed them and stood close enough to touch.

“It’s me,” Craig told him as though he knew what Sasha was thinking.

His empathy prickled, but nothing very clear came to mind. But the way Craig watched him… “Can you tell what I’m thinking?”

Craig shrugged. “Your face gave you away.”

The song changed, swelling louder and cutting off more conversation. It also allowed Craig to side-step the question. Before Sasha could say anything, Marty and Vince moved closer.

“Don’t tell them, okay?” Sasha blurted to Dillon and Craig.

Dillon eyed him, obviously curious, but Craig nodded. Sasha got the distinct impression that Craig knew more than he let on. He couldn’t ask, though, since his other friends walked up.

“Hey,” Marty crowed. “You want a drink?”

“Sure.” He glanced at Dillon and Craig. “You interested?”

Dillon brightened and Craig smiled at the werefox, a much more gentle expression than Sasha had yet seen on his face.

“Love to,” Craig agreed.

They found a table at the back when another group of four got up. “What about TJ?” Sasha asked, scanning the crowd.

“He doesn’t usually join us,” Dillon told him.

“Let’s save him a seat, maybe he will this time.” Craig pulled an extra chair over.

They chatted for a while and Sasha had three vodka tonics without blinking. Shit, good thing he brought his cash
with
him this time.

Vince leaned over. “You’re coming home with us, Sasha. Marty and I talked, we don’t want a repeat of you getting mugged.”

His eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Oh yeah. Why do you think I’m having iced tea all night? I’m the driver.”

The beat changed, a heavy industrial, and Dillon got excited. Sasha met his gaze and they both broke into wide grins. As they bolted for the dance floor, TJ watched them, hovering by the edge. His eyes gave nothing away, shadowed by the lights, but Sasha could sense his attention like something physical.

Then Dillon grabbed his wrist to lead him to the middle of the floor.

All in all, one of Sasha’s more enjoyable nights clubbing in the Windy City.

Chapter Seventeen

Waterboarding and Other Breakfast Fun

Sasha woke slowly to the aroma of coffee and cinnamon rolls. He blinked his eyes open to a huge, white and puffy pillow that his face currently mashed like a cloud of cotton.

It may have been fantastic, but not at all like home.

He rolled over and memory flooded back. Dancing. Marty and Vince. They went
dancing
.

“Morning,” Marty chirped. He sat down, bouncing him, and handed a steaming mug of coffee over. “I brought this for you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “What time is it?”

“About ten on Saturday. You really slept in.”

He didn’t grumble about how late they’d stayed out. He didn’t stumble into bed until after five, but Marty appeared rested.

And wide awake.

Vince walked in. “Breakfast is ready. Oh, hey, Sasha. You awake?”

“I am now,” he muttered, sitting up and letting the sheets pool around his waist. “I need a shower.”

“Food first,” Vince told him. “You’ll feel like a new man.”

“Good, ’cause I feel like an old one right now.” He slurped more coffee and it burned all the way down.

His clothes lay folded on a chair next to the bed, but he had no desire to change out of the soft grey flannel pajama pants and shirt Marty loaned him. Instead, he went to the bathroom and washed up.

Marty already sat at the table and Vince served cinnamon rolls and bowls of raspberries and strawberries. A pot of cream already sat on the table.

“Wow.” He sat down. “This looks amazing.”

“Thanks.” Marty popped a strawberry in his mouth and passed the bowl to Sasha. “Who’s TJ?”

Sasha eyed him. “Huh?”

“Big guy. Clearly a bodyguard, the way he hovered around us. What’s his deal? And who the fuck is the other one?”

“And don’t forget Dillon and Craig. They seemed really hung up on that TJ guy, the way they talked about him,” Vince put in. He sat down. “Dig in.”

“Gods, guys.” He swallowed more coffee. “Lighten up. The other one’s name is Mitch.”

“We just want to know,” Marty told him. “You’re getting an awful lot of attention from strangers lately.”

“They work at the club for Neal,” Sasha said, and took a bite of cinnamon roll. He had to stop and enjoy it; it tasted like heaven.

Might even make up for the lack of sleep…

“Neal.” Marty didn’t sound friendly.

“Yeah. We’re getting along great together, and he wants to meet you guys.”

“I get who TJ is, and he was there with Dillon and Craig. But who the fuck is Mitch and why is he fixated on you?” Marty growled.

“He’s one of Neal’s Marines. He kind of disappeared, wasn’t reporting in, and Neal didn’t know where he was. How do
you
know about him?”

Marty rolled his eyes. “
You
might not have been sharing details, but Dillon’s quite the little chatterbox.”

Sasha frowned. He thought they’d had their heads together talking about clothes all night. Shows how much
he
knew. He should have made sure when he told Craig to keep quiet that he included Dillon as well.

Marty kept staring at him with an angry expression on his face. “Why was that Mitch guy assaulting you?”

“He didn’t assault me, Marty, fuck. I put him on the floor for grabbing my arm.”

Marty stared at him, shocked, but Vince laughed. Sasha whipped around to snap a retort at him but Vince held up both hands.

“It sounds funny, is all,” Vince protested. “Come on. A guy touches you in a bar and you beat the shit out of him?”

“I didn’t beat the shit out of him,” Sasha grumbled. “I was sure tempted, though.”

“Remind me not to grab you, then,” Marty muttered.

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Pan’s balls, Marty, why the fuck are you getting on my case about this?”

“Guys,” Vince soothed. “This doesn’t have to be a fight.”

“Is it?” Sasha snapped. “Is it a fight?”

Marty blinked. “I…”

“Look, Sasha. Marty’s worried about you. We both are, that’s all.”

“But Neal wants to meet us? Like he’s some kind of boss or something?”

“No, not like that,” Sasha snapped at Marty. “We’re friends, and he’s my lover, he wants to meet you is all. Which you should want too, unless you don’t give a shit?”

Marty’s face flooded with color. “Sasha.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Give a shit? Or are you trying to order me around?” Sasha glared at him. “You seem more concerned about what I’m doing and not about whether I’m happy.”

“I…” Marty cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Then stop hurting me!” Sasha shouted.

Marty deflated, leaning back in his chair with both hands on the table. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Well, you’re sure doing a damn good job.”

“Sasha, all Marty’s trying to do is make sure you’re okay,” Vince interrupted. “We saw TJ and Mitch, and it seemed like a lot of attention out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t know Dillon and Craig would be there,” Sasha told him. “TJ was there because of them, not me.”

“And Mitch?” Marty pressed.

“I don’t
know
Mitch, Marty. Dammit.”

“Calm down, Sasha,” Vince murmured. “He’s jealous, not pissed off.”

That stopped him cold. He stared at his former boyfriend in shock. “Is that true?”

Marty fidgeted with his spoon. “Yeah.” He looked up and met Sasha’s gaze. “He came out of nowhere, and he’s all hot and rugged, and big, like you like your men, and I assumed…”

“Marty, I’m not going to fuck some guy I met at a dance club.”

“You did with Neal.”

“I’m falling in
love
with Neal!”

Then he heard himself.

He sat back, staring at Marty in shock. No one spoke for a long, long moment.

“You didn’t mean to say that, did you?” Marty guessed. “Did you even know before you said it out loud?”

Sasha shook his head, still not able to say a word. Holy shit.

On a shingle.

“What the fuck am I gonna do?”

Marty shrugged. “Fuck if I know, man.”

“Why the fuck are you on my back about it?”

“Because we love you, dumb ass,” Vince put in.

Sasha stared at him. “What?”

“Eat your breakfast.”

He laughed. “Yeah. ’Cause I’m so in the mood for food after this little conversation.”

“Look. Start at the beginning. You met Neal at the club with us, right?” Marty sipped his coffee. “Then what?”

“I woke up on his couch at four o’clock in the afternoon.”

Marty waved his hand in a coaxing motion. “We know all that. What else?”

“He took me to Leona’s and then we had dinner at his place.”

“What?” Marty cried. “You never told me that.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t seem all that keen to know the details.”

Marty flushed. “What else?”

“He gave me a tour of the Factory and we played in his dungeon. He says he doesn’t sleep with clients, but asked if I was available as a lover.”

“And?” Marty prompted.

“And I said I was. What, you want a written proposal?”

“I might.”

“Guys,” Vince growled. “I want to hear this.”

“I had another date with Neal when I got back, and I played with Steve and Carlos.” Then all of a sudden, it hit him.

The lycanthropy.

Marty must have read something in his expression. “What’s wrong?”