Page 21 of Inked Desires
“You still drinking alone?” Kiran asks with a sly smile.
I raise an eyebrow. Is that a pick-up attempt?
“Not you, when you hope to leave with company?” I reply sarcastically.
A low growl sounds to my right. Arès pulls the chair next to me and sits, his gaze locked on mine.
“The guys here have nothing to offer you,” he says calmly, but the intensity makes the air between us shiver.
I tilt my head slightly, studying him. For the first time, his hair’s tousled, like he didn’t bother fixing it. He’s not wearing his leather jacket, just a simple t-shirt. Probably because of the sweltering heat.
I opted for jeans and a white tee, just to not melt under the sun.
“I’m Kiran,” the other man introduces himself.
“Andrew,” I answer simply.
Kiran doesn’t linger. He nods then heads to the counter.
“What are you doing here?” Arès asks.
“I told you: making myself desirable.”
He rolls his eyes, exasperated, leaning slightly toward me.
His scent hits me immediately, flooding my senses, wrapping my throat in an invisible grip. It smells like safety, danger, adrenaline, and something infinitely comforting at once.
For a fraction of a second, I feel trapped.
But for the first time, that thought doesn’t terrify me as much as before.
His lips brush my ear as he leans closer. An electric wave rushes through me, violent and uncontrollable. I hold my breath.
“I don’t see anyone here on your level,” he murmurs.“The only options are Kiran and me. And I doubt you want to end up in either of our beds.”
I pull my glass closer, encircling it with both hands to hide my trembling fingers. His proximity burns me. Every vibration in my body becomes unbearable. To release the tension, I quietly tap my foot on the floor.
Kiran returns with two beers and sets one before Arès, who finally leans back. I breathe deeply, regaining control of my body.
“Am I bothering you?” Kiran asks as he sits.
“Not at all,” I answer, cutting off Arès who was about to speak.
A smile stretches across Kiran’s lips.
“You’re right, he’s different,” he comments with amusement.
I frown, glancing between the two men. Arès’jaw tightens, his gaze shining with a hard light.
“Shut up, Kiran,” he hisses.
“Listen, guys, I just want to get drunk and stumble home. If you want to argue, find another table.”
I don’t have patience for these games. I’ve had enough of them in recent years. Just for tonight, I want to forget who I am.
“We’re not arguing,” Kiran assures with a sly smile.
I shrug. Whatever. Rather than feed this strange tension, I take a long sip.
