“You should listen to your sister. She seems to understand how to play by the rules,” I said through clenched teeth, directed at Nash.
“Adrian...” David put a hand on my shoulders, but I couldn't just walk away now. Someone didn't understand who they were dealing with.
Normally, I would have left and kept my distance. But they were insulting us, sitting in our VIP area. That was going too far.
“And you better listen to your blond friend.” Nash started grinning again.
Then I did something he hadn't expected and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. “If you don't want your little werewolf-witch fight sent to Daddy, you should get the hell out of here now.”
I was sure he had heard me very well, despite Flo Rida's loud Right Round. Emely Copeland apparently did too, because she looked at me with widened eyes. If only she knew that David had already sent it to the witches.
“You shouldn't be making any demands at all, mutt. You should know your place by now,” I said, and I saw exactly how Nash was struggling to suppress his transformation. Good for him that his yellow eyes didn't stand out at a Halloween party.
Suddenly, Nash's fist landed in my stomach and I staggered back. But since I wasn't human, he could wait a long time for something like that to make me sick.
That bastard was fucking dead.
“Nice try,” I mouthed, straightening up to my full height only to slam Nash down onto the round table in the VIP corner.
I realized we were gaining too much attention, which wasn't good at all. And yet I'd love to punch that Copeland idiot in the face until he ended up in hospital with his own father.
Nash didn't seem to want to attack back, even though I could clearly sense his anger. He straightened up, pausing to look at us closely. He seemed to be thinking, then he surprised me, pushed his sister aside, who was still looking at us in bewilderment, and made his way through the people who had already pulled out their cell phones. He stormed down the stairs until he disappeared from our sight.
“Nash!” his sister called after him and pushed herself through the crowd to follow her brother.
All the people who had gathered up here began to return to their previous conversation partners or continued dancing.
I looked at David, who had stepped up to the railing and joined him with Miles.
“Dogs,” I pressed out, annoyed by Nash fucking Copeland.
“I'm surprised he didn't fight back,” Miles remarked, looking intently at the crowd.
Below me, the people were dancing to Sean Paul's Temperature, but I didn't notice anything unusual. The crowd was very disorganized. The former factory building was too big. These bastards could be anywhere.
I looked toward the bar and paused for a moment.
There she was, again, wearing a damn tight black dress that clung to her feminine curves. Her hair was down, and she was sitting there immersed in conversation.
Suddenly, as if she had noticed me, she looked up at us. Her gaze lingered on me for a second and I couldn't deny that I was attracted to her. Especially since that one time in the art room at university. There was something about her that aroused greed in me.
Laurent was right when he claimed that women were distractions.
I wanted to drink from her, to drain every last drop of her blood. That was probably why she clouded my brain so much. But what kept me occupied until now was her smell. It took an immeasurable amount of my sanity and unleashed my insatiable thirst. I wouldn't be able to stop until she was completely empty. This was exactly why I had to stay away from her.
“What the hell...”
I turned my gaze from Larissa and followed Miles', whose eyes glowed reddish behind his sunglasses. Something seemed to be making him extremely tense.
Then I spotted it. Him.
My inner tension grew as I watched Tristan, who seemed to be approaching two girls. A week ago, I had seen him for the first time in years.
I had known he would come back. I had prepared myself for it.
“Come on,” I murmured with a scowl, and we disappeared from the VIP area, down the stairs.
The club had filled up with more people, which dulled our scent somewhat. We still had the advantage for the moment. I feared it wouldn't stay that way.
“You saw things you shouldn't have seen.”
“Tristan.”
The man turned around to me, the usual devilish smile on his lips.
“I don't think you're here to talk to her,” I said, looking at the girl I immediately identified as Larissa's friend. She had the same smell as Larissa, albeit weaker, which made me a little uneasy. Right now, she was here with one of the Blair daughters.
“She knows,” he muttered sternly and came closer to us.
I didn't know what to say, because he could be right.
The girl looked at us, frightened. There was no question that she had seen too much. Actually, I should have reported the attack by Tristan and the other Order member to Bastien, but Tristan had painfully reminded me of our agreement.
That sick bastard.
“You shouldn't even be here,” I said, unimpressed, and moved closer, indicating to the two girls to leave.
They stood up and disappeared.
