Page 42 of Bound
There is a masculine cough.
Gage drops my arm and I right myself, smoothing my dress. Turning away from him, I am forced to look at the waiting group.
The shifter male smirks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast, G,” he says, and the woman with him sinks her elbow into his side. He doesn’t react except by splaying a hand over her midsection and tugging her back into his body.
I stare at the sheer size of his hand. At how open all of them are with touching each other.
The Fae are not prudes. Some courts in the European Sith are even more lenient with arduous displays.
But to see such affection—such love between them …
It sparks a familiar ache I cannot hide.
“Hey, Gage,” the dark-haired girl calls. As she looks at him, her expression is friendly. Teasing. An odd burst of anger fills me. “What did you do with Caine? Leave him tied up at the hotel?”
Even more shocking than her easy banter with him is his snort of amusement as he walks past me without a single word.
“Thought about it,” he admits. “But he saved my ass from paying for a lot more damage.” He claps hands with the shifter male and nods to the vampire.
My lips part.
“So the demon can be helpful?” The vampire male mutters.
His female giggles and slides her arms around his middle. The height difference between them is similar to the one between Gage and myself.
For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to hold Gage as she holds her male.
“Caine can be useful,” the shifter says, “when he isn’t being a dick.”
They all exchange a look.
“Which is all the time,” the other woman says, laughing.
The others join in and even Gage chuckles under his breath.
I stare in awe at the way his solemn features twist with humor. The change takes him from severe to more handsome than usual.
I shift self-consciously as my thighs clench.
The nicer of the women steps past him. Clad in shorts and a tank top, I’m aware of her lean, sensual grace as she walks toward me.
“Since Gage is so forgetful on manners today,” she says as she nears, “I’m Nisha.” One scarred but golden hand extends toward me.
I hesitate.
“Fae don’t shake hands.” Gage’s tone holds an edge again. When I peer into his face, the brief glimpse of happiness is gone.
My eyes drop to my shoes.
“Oh,” Nisha says. “What about a fist bump then?”
I peer shyly up at her. “I don’t know what that is.”
Her grin is broad, beautiful, and wild. She holds one hand out, fingers balled into a fist. I loosen my hold on my skirts and mimic her. She taps my fist with hers. “Tada, fist bump.”
The shifter male snorts. “Kitten,” he breathes, laughter tinging his deep voice.
She beams, her sea-green eyes sparkling. “He’s so hot when he calls me that,” she tells me in a conspiratorial whisper, and I flush. She appraises me. “What’s your name?”
