Fighting back a shudder at her own heated thoughts, Skathi grinned at Trouble. “Well, after giving it some thought”—agonizing over it until I made myself sick— “I decided to see what all the excitement was about. At least this time, I am hoping for fewer assaults and more appetizers. I would have called him to tell him I was coming, but I phone died.” During all her running around looking for a dress, she’d neglected to charge it.
Trouble chuckled, his green eyes dancing.
“No promises, sweetheart. Come on in, I’ll help you find the prez.”
Rather than walk ahead of her and lead her to the front door where another large man was standing at parade ready, scanning every face with careful wariness, Trouble walked beside her, guiding her with a hand at her lower back—not touching her, though, which she thought was odd. He led her down a side pathway toward the back of the house and onto one of the most beautiful terraces she’d ever seen. Draped in fragrant bougainvillea, and wrapped in a white stone balustrade, the terrace was long, wide, and empty.
“I didn’t want you gettin’ lost or havin’ to chat with strangers, so I figured I bring you ‘round the back and straight to the prez. That way he can stop bein’ a grumpy asshole and actually start enjoyin’ his evenin’.” The man was a mind reader. Hmm. And his Texas accent seemed a little heavier than usual.
“He did say he would rather not have come,” Skathi offered, wondering how difficult it would be to convince Odin to slip outside and leave the party behind. She hadn’t even gone inside yet and she already knew she was out of her comfort zone. Put her in combat gear, put a full loadout on her back, and drop her in the Arctic Circle and she’d be just fine. Put her in evening wear and heels and drop her in a bordello, and she was practically crawling out of her skin.
Just think of it as intensive field training…because if she wanted to be with Odin—really, truly wanted to give him a chance—she’d need to get acquainted with the parts of his life she found less than comfortable.
She’d faced greater public discomfort with Aaron when he’d dragged her along to party with him and his “friends”. What was a single night in a bawdy house? She could deal.
“Prez prefers the raucous over the reserved, and even though this here party is in a sex house, it’s one of the fancier shindigs the club hosts. No sex or naked bits out in the open for all eyes to see. That’s reserved for the circus room,” he said, smiling wickedly. “Tonight is all about fancy and elegant. It appeases the current bordello patrons and brings in new ones. Win-win.”
“Except that Odin usually doesn’t like to come here?” Yes, she knew what she was really asking, but she did it anyway. Did Odin like to avail himself of the bordello wares?
Why so fancy? Just ask if he “fucks the whores?”
Trouble arched an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with humor…and guardedness. Like he didn’t know whether to laugh or watch his words.
“I didn’t say that, darlin’. Odin is a man of fleshly lusts, just like the rest of us brothers. But he is also loyal. So, if he invited you to be his date—which is a first, I must say—then there is somethin’ there he ain’t willin’ to taint by dippin’ his wick in bordello…taint. Besides that, you’re as close to bein’ claimed as his old lady as any woman ever has. He’s not a cheater, he’s faithful to the end. I wouldn’t follow him into hell and the dark of night if he wasn’t.”
Well, Trouble certainly had a way with words, and his words did alleviate some of the tension making her shoulders as tense as a bow string.
“Lead the way, then, Mr. Trouble. My date is waiting,” she said wryly, ignoring that bit about her being Odin’s old lady. She didn’t have the time nor mental capacity to sit and ponder that one tonight. “I must say, the suit coat makes a difference. I’m used to seeing you in your leather vest.”
“You mean the kutte? We only wear those when we’re representin’ the club to one another and the outside world—showin’ that we’re united and scary as hell.” He snickered at his own words. “Tonight, though, we’re showin’ the softer more sensual underbelly of the MC. The side that also happens to like expensive shit.”
The inside of the mansion was just as beautiful and ostentatious as the outside. Terracotta floor tiles blended seamlessly with Carrara marble. The walls were adorned with sconces of potted plants or faux torches. People were crammed in every which way, some sitting on elegantly appointed Spanish style furniture in dark hardwoods and floral embossed solid colored upholstery, and some guests standing in small clusters chatting. Waiters dressed in black tuxes with short coats carried silver trays of champagne flutes, and a buffet with eight steaming chaffing dishes was set up in the dining space just inside the door to the terrace. All in all, the party seemed more sedate than she had initially expected, which both surprised and unnerved her.
Following Trouble through the throngs of people—men dressed in suits or tuxedos and women dressed in increasingly skimpy evening dresses—Skathi people watched. Were the women the bordello workers or were they clients as well? Not that she had a problem with women enjoying women. To each their own.
Just as she opened her mouth to ask Trouble where Odin was, someone called her name.
“Skathi?” No, not someone.Him.
Turning, Skathi froze. Her heart jumping in her chest, her blood turning to fire, her body vibrating with barely leashed hunger.
Holy hell, he was magnificent.
Odin was dressed in a black tux, dapper, gorgeous, rough yet elegant. His black dress shirt was a striking contrast to his hair and his stunning eyes. An ice blue bow tie was barely visible under the braid of his beard, but it completed the look to perfection. Taller than any other man in the room, he exuding a power and arrogance no other man could match. He was the god, the MC prez…the king. And he was looking at her like he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Flutters in her belly, drumming in her veins, a buzzing in her ears. She was showing all the signs for system shutdown—and all because the man before her had taken control of her body with a simple look.
If she thought he was gorgeous in denim and leather, he was unspeakably hot in silk. The man was sex personified, deliciously masculine, mouth-wateringly devastating. She couldn’t catch her breath.
Until she noticed what she hadn’t before—so blinded by the man dressed like the biker James Bond.
Beside him, clutching his arm and pushing her barely contained breasts into his chest, was a woman dressed in a banded mini dress in shimmering gold, the hem so high Skathi could tell she was sans panties. Her legs were miles long and her heels were miles high. Her hair and makeup were obviously professionally done, and she looked spectacular. Just the kind of woman who frequented Las Vegas parties.
Unlike Skathi, who frequented MMA gyms and shooting ranges.
The woman—who wasn’t Skathi—was staring at Skathi, her devious, calculated smirk wide, her deep red lipstick smudged.
On Odin’s mouth and neck.
