Page 128 of Bound
Chapter 45
Gage
I pull at the fabric covering me. “Well, I forgot how much I hated shit like this.”
Tanner chuckles at my side. In a button-up and slacks, he appears just as at home in the tailor-fitted silk as in jeans and a tee. “It’s not so bad,” he mutters. “The girls look delicious.”
I glance up as Nisha stalks through the crowd. Clad in a formfitting dress of silver left slit up one thigh, T is damn near drooling as she approaches. He tugs her into him with a growl, making her laugh. I look away as he kisses her senseless, taking her breath on a feminine gasp.
She pushes away and peers at me, her eyes bright. “You look good, Gage.”
T growls again. “What am I? Chopped liver?”
Her hand swats at his chest. “I tell you all the time how hot you are, so hush.” His grin is all cat.
“Where’s Ruin and Lilah?” I ask, needing to change the subject.
Her tawny cheeks color. “They are … taking their time getting ready.”
Tanner and I snort.
“I fucking bet,” I mutter. “We thought they were bad before? I’ll still be captain for another four months while they hole up in their damn suite.”
T chuckles. “To be fair, I get it.” He tugs Nisha into his side and gazes down at her, raw emotion filling his irises. “They just found each other, true? To have that shit almost ripped away?”
Nisha sobers. “There would have been no consoling her.”
I don’t need to ask who.
The look on Lilah’s face will be ingrained in my brain until I die. The fear. The pain.
Shaking myself to force the memory away, I glance around the room and go still.
At the top of the stairs, Amoret stands at Bran’s side, her petite frame sheathed in a soft looking lilac gown that flows in shimmering waves to her feet. Her hair has been curled, and she left each silken tendril down her back, framing her in gold.
She peers out over the crowd, her bright eyes visible even across the distance. Her gaze meets mine. The soft curve of her smile is radiant, glossy pink. My chest seems to clench.
Someone shoves at my back, pitching me forward.
I glare over my shoulder.
Tanner whistles, one arm around Nisha, the other hand in his pocket. “What?” he asks, cutting off the nameless tune.
“You’re an idiot,” I grumble.
His smile broadens. “And she’s coming right toward you.”
My head whips back around.
Bran and Amoret approach. Her focus is hesitant now. Not as bright. I want to smile, to reassure her somehow, but my face feels frozen.
“Whitehorn,” Bran says in lieu of a greeting.
I don’t bow, he will never get that from me. But I incline my head. “Branwen.”
His lips purse.
“Gage, you look wonderful.” Amoret’s voice is still husky. And it falls on my ears like a starving man falls on a banquet.
