Page 71 of To the Grave

Chapter 47

Daisy

The restaurant was tucked behind a facade of gold brick. There was no sign, just a black door flanked by fixtures that cast a soft glow over the entrance. You couldn’t even get in without ringing a bell.

“How did you find this place?” I asked while we waited for someone to open the door.

“We have our ways,” Wolf said.

I felt like a princess in the feathery dress and new shoes, my hair blown out around my shoulders. I’d gone with a smoky eye and a pale lip, not wanting to distract from the dress, and I knew everything had come together just right when I’d emerged from the bedroom and had seen lust flare in the Beasts’ eyes.

The silicone in my underwear had felt weird at first, but I was surprised how quickly I’d gotten used to it. I’d spent the drive to the restaurant expecting it to start vibrating, but it hadn’t, and I’d gradually stopped thinking about it.

It was Otis’ fault really. As always, his questions had cut straight to the chase.

Getting offwasfun. Iwastired of sleeping alone.

Getting fucked by Jace in the bathroom at the Strike had stoked my appetite for them all. We hadn’t all been together since Jace had come home and I was dying to be enveloped by their big naked bodies even if I was too proud to admit it.

A small panel in the black door opened to reveal the face of a young woman. She asked for the name on our reservation, then opened the door. She was petite, her form-fitting dress as black as her swingy shoulder-length hair, as shiny as the raven that had frequented Jace’s grave.

We stepped into a cozy space paneled with aged brick and warm wood. The room was large, but I could see that it was divided by a brick wall, creating another room at the back, the layout making both spaces seem intimate despite the generous proportions of the room.

The lights were dim, candlelight flickering from the center of the linen-draped tables and deep leather-clad booths. Through a wide doorway, a sleek, modern bar dominated another room, a handful of people talking quietly as music played softly in the background.

“Follow me,” the woman said.

She led us through the front part of the big room and around the brick divider to the sheltered room at the back of the restaurant. I knew I wasn’t imagining the attention lavished on us by the other diners. I also wasn’t naive enough to think it was for me. The Beasts were imposing in any situation, but they looked exceptionally beautiful tonight.

This time Wolf was the one wearing leather pants, his black dress shirt, covered in black sequins, straining against the width of his shoulders. The black shirt made his eyes look even brighter, even bluer, and his black boots made him look every inch the posh musician. I had to fight not to stare at his dick in the tight pants.

Otis had gone another direction, skipping dress pants in favor of crisp black jeans. His black button-down made his hair look even more gold, the black-and-gold brocade jacket a perfect compliment, and his new Chuck Taylors gave the whole ensemble a casually sexy vibe.

But it was Jace who’d surprised me most, going all out in gray trousers, a black vest, and a black-and-gray houndstooth jacket. With his slicked-back hair, inked skin, and angular features, the jacket made him look like an old-world gangster who would have been right at home in my mom’s house in the 1800s.

So… yeah. No wonder everyone was staring. It was like being escorted by three ofPeoplemagazine’s Sexiest Men Alive.

We reached one of the deep leather booths and Otis gestured for me to slide in first while Wolf and Jace took the other side. A few seconds later, Otis’ knee was brushing against mine under the table.

The booths were roomy with high backs, and I settled in to what felt like a private world as the hostess retreated.

“This place is so nice,” I said, taking a drink of water from the glass on the table.

Wolf stared at me. “They’re famous for their meat.”

I almost choked on my water. Clearly my mind was in the gutter, but who could blame me when I was surrounded by the Beasts, who held the remote to the piece of vibrating silicone in my underwear. “Excuse me?”

“It’s technically a steakhouse,” Otis said. “They have other stuff, but they’re well known for their steak.”

Steakwas definitely less sexual thanmeat.

Our server, a small gray-haired woman with a pixie cut and a nose ring, arrived to give us menus and tell us about the specials.

And so began the most sublime dining experience of my life.

There were oysters Rockefeller, breaded and fried to a golden brown, and served with lemon wedges that provided the perfect tang. The oysters were served with steak tartare, ground and marinated for so long it literally melted in my mouth.

We were already through our first bottle of wine when the main courses started arriving, and I sighed as I bit into my beef Wellington, the best steak I’d ever had surrounded by light crispy puff pastry. Otis gave me a bite of his pork chop, seared to perfection, and Wolf leaned over the table to feed me a piece of his duck, which was served with a chutney made of sautéed apples and pecans.

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