Page 87 of My Road Trip with a Vampire: Season One
“It was one demon,” Dennis says smoothly. He squares his shoulders off to Rune. “We didn’t go looking for it, but Beatrice knew how to handle the situation.”
He’s making me sound more badass than I really am. Rune cuts his eyes to me, searching for the truth. Dennis repositions his body to block his view.
“Next time call me,” Rune grumbles. “Do you still have my card, Beatrice?”
“I threw it away,” I fib, craning my neck to look over Dennis’ shoulder. The truth is that it was tucked away in the bag I left behind at Faith’s house.
Rune chuckles.
“I figured. No worries. I tucked another in your back pocket while we were dancing in the hunting room,” he says with a wink.
“That was you?” The question sounds shrill, but he compelled me. Maybe he's spying for our boss. I calm myself down. At least I didn't tell him anything important.
“You went into the hunting room?” Dennis asks, frowning. "Why?”
“I think our little doe wandered in without signing consent papers. Don’t worry, I made sure no one touched her.”
Rune’s smile only grows wider at the sight of Dennis’ face. Arrogant bastard. I don’t even have to look at Dennis to know he’s pissed.
“Rune,” he seethes, “you need to leave us alone.”
“But we’re having fun.” Rune moves so fast to get around Dennis that the movement makes my hair float up on a breeze. “She smells so sweet, ready to go. We could share her. It would be just like old times,” he says sliding a hand down my spine to rest on my low back.
I hear a snap, and Dennis disappears from the bar. Rune’s cold touch is gone. I straighten up, searching for them, but all I see is a blur before Rune’s back hits the bar with athud. Dennis' fingers are wrapped around his throat. He’s angled on top of him, his fangs bared.
“Do not touch Beatrice,” Dennis growls, applying more pressure to Rune’s neck. The blond vampire’s eyelids are half-lowered when he glances up at Dennis. He looks like he's enjoying this.
“Just like old times.”
Heat kicks through the bond. There’s something simmering below Dennis’ anger. Lust edged with confusion. There’s history here.
Oh.
I look between them both. Dennis’ biceps strain against the sleeves of his fitted t-shirt as he keeps Rune locked in his hold. I’m pretty sure I should break this thing up between Dennis and his demon-hunting ex before they start tearing each other to pieces.
“Dennis,” I murmur.
“She’s mine,” Dennis says and loosens his grip. Rune bites his lower lip and looks at me once before sitting up and pushing Dennis off of him. I’m not sure if it’s just the bond, but I’m feeling heated too. Dennis might call me a good girl, but I don't feel like one when I think of what it would be like to be pressed between the two of them: Rune gripping my elbow while Dennis—
“Bea,” Dennis breathes, derailing my train of thought. It’s probably for the best. He steps close and smooths his hair to keep his hands busy. His nostrils flare, catching my scent. He knows how turned-on I am.
I nod and step to him, pressing my cheek to his chest. I'm ready.
He kisses me, finally running his hands down my hips. My blood thrums through my body at the touch. I can feel all eyes turning to us when Dennis lifts his fingertips to my cheek, stroking a line down my jaw to rest at my pulse point.
My lips part for him, but his mouth is out of reach. He begins to speak, his words cool in my ear.
“I’m going to make you mine right now with everyone here as a witness. Is that ok with you?”
Sparks of amber shine through his dark lashes when he peers down at me. My heart is stuck in my throat.
“Yes."
He picks me up and twirls me around, placing my ass on the bar. A few glasses shatter to the ground in the commotion. There’s a captive audience waiting to see what happens next.
Dennis pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside before taking his place beside me. The lighting in here somehow makes him look even more sculpted; the light hits his muscles just right, shading their edges and the crests of his hips where they peek above his fitted jeans.
“This is a claiming,” he says. He hardly raises his voice, but it’s deep and dark, and the crowd falls silent as he speaks. I curl my fingers around the ledge of the bar, needing to contain the swarm of butterflies threatening to overwhelm my body.
