Page 4 of Little Bunny

“Slap the bar again like I’m your dog to heal, and we’ll see who can’t sit for a week, conejito.”

“But it wasn’t—” Elijah gasped when the guy nipped his earlobe, a low, teasing growl rumbling in his throat.

When he spoke again, his voice curled low in Elijah’s stomach, setting off a slow burn he fought to control. “Now, ask me real pretty to make your drink, sweetheart.” Then added, “Si fuera por mí, estarías en mi cama, conejito.” If it were up to me, you’d be in my bed, little bunny.

Elijah jerked back, affected by his voice, but refused to obey. Everyone in the room was looking his way, even Percy, and Elijah had a feeling they were waiting to see what he would do.

If his phone hadn’t buzzed in his pocket, would Elijah have given in? But it had, reminding him of the mind games Trent used to play with him.

And Elijah had hated it.

“I’ll have a bourbon neat.” He forced himself to look Mr. Dark and Dangerous straight in his gorgeous fucking eyes. Elijah no longer wanted to confess that it hadn’t been him who’d slapped the counter. Screw the prick. The bartender scared the crap out of him, but he’d touched a nerve.

“Sorry if that’s too basic for your delicate biker palate,” Elijah added, just to be a shit.

After how dirty Trent had played him, the jerk in front of Elijah could go to hell.

Chapter Two

“You made it.” Santiago positioned himself between Percy and Elijah, just a little behind, but close enough to block out prying eyes.

The only exception was the bartender, who appeared to be watching Elijah a little too closely.

“Your friends?” the bartender asked, and even though he glanced away, it felt like his gaze pierced right through Elijah. The tension lingered, his heart racing wildly, but at least the sexy asshole hadn’t thrown Elijah into his trunk.

He’d consider that a win.

“Matias, this is Percy and Elijah,” Santiago introduced them, but Elijah wished to god he hadn’t. Now Matias knew his name. The guy would know what to etch on Elijah’s pathetic headstone after Matias snapped his neck for defying him in front of everyone.

Elijah thought his day had already hit rock bottom, but apparently all he’d had to do was wait for a visit from Percy and the cover of night.

Percy leaned in as Santiago spoke with Matias. “Oh my god, I seriously thought he was going to drag you over the counter after you lobbed that sass grenade at him.” He snickered. Elijah sweated bullets. Percy dabbed at his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, pumpkin.”

“You could’ve jumped in at any time and said it was you who slapped the counter,” he hissed.

Matias returned with two drinks—placing a Cosmo in front of Percy and setting the bourbon in front of Elijah without a word.

The bastard had done that on purpose. A power move, a challenge wrapped in arrogance, daring Elijah to call him out. He forced himself to look away, but his traitorous gaze dragged right back toward Matias.

That grin sharpened, cocky and knowing, before he added a damn wink.

“You guys up for a game of pool?” Santiago asked, cutting through his spiraling thoughts.

“Sure am.” Elijah snatched his drink off the counter, knocked it back in one go, and locked eyes with Matias in defiance.

Then promptly choked like a complete idiot.

A violent cough tore through him, burning all the way down as his lungs rebelled. Matias vaulted over the bar in one impossibly smooth motion, slamming a hand against Elijah’s back with enough force to rattle his ribs.

He wasn’t sure what hurt worse, his scorched throat or the fact that Matias was damn near beating the breath out of him.

“Stop,” he wheezed, genuinely fearing for his poor ribs. No clue where Matias got the water, but suddenly, the rim of a glass was at Elijah’s lips. “Slow sips, conejito,” he murmured, his voice so annoyingly soothing it took everything in Elijah not to lean into it.

Much as he hated to admit it, Matias had a presence. The kind of authority that made obedience feel instinctual.

“Are you okay?” Percy blurted out, panicked, like Elijah was going into labor instead of just setting fire to his own throat.

Santiago just stood there, his lips twitching like he was fighting a damn smile.

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