Page 85 of Come for Me
Sam is absolutely infuriating. I can see why he and Dax get along so well. He is often a grumpy jokester, a weird combination. Even the peppiest woman will piss him off. Then she and I can annoy him together.
“Look, I’ve been marked against my will and cooped up in this castle ever since. I just want to go for an hour or two and then we can leave. I’ll have a couple of drinks, dance for a song or two. I won’t cause any trouble. I just need to get away for a bit.”
He huffs, seemingly contemplating my decision as he chews on the inside of his cheek.
Okay, so intimidation doesn’t work on him, but honesty and vulnerability does.Interesting. Not what I was expecting with Mr. Playboy.Who knew he had a soft side?
“Fine,” he says. I jump with glee. “One hour.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Alaina
It wasn’t just one hour, and it certainly wasn’t a couple of drinks. A few beers, shots from some strangers, and I was about done.
With my lack of balance and observation, Sam is my babysitter tonight. He’s saved me from walking into walls, using the wrong restroom, and falling flat on my face. I can’t count how many times he’s apologized on my behalf for drunkenly running into people. I’m a giddy, bumbling mess as the alcohol flows through my body.
Dax’s guards are also on babysitting duty. They’re taking turns, switching between bathroom duty since breaking the seal. Now I need to pee every ten minutes.
Sam and his guards have been useful, but they’reworking, which hardly makes them fun to hang out with.
The crowd jumps and sings along with the music. Women on the dance floor move in a circle together, smiling, until a man approaches one of them, trying to creep in.
Cringing, the girl shakes her head at his pursuit of her. He shrugs and walks away. Onto the next candidate.
The group bursts out laughing, and my mind wanders to Taya. If she were here, we’d be on the dance floor, laughing at the guys that approach us and stumbling through the crowd together. If we weren’t dancing, we’d be sitting at the bar to people watch.
I miss her.
Okay, think about something else before you start crying.
Sucking the rest of my beverage down, I hit that sad, hollow slurp. I spin in my stool back toward the bar, placing my empty drink on the counter, ordering another.
The bartender doesn’t waste time to pour me a beer and winks.
Sam leans his forearm on the bar. “You wanna lose that eye, man?”
The glass barely touches my lips when Sam lifts it and hovers it over my head. I try to reach for it but finally give up.
“Fine, I’ll just get another one,” I huff.
Sam calls the bartender, giving the beer back. He slashes across his throat, gesturing to the man that I need to be cut off.
Ugh, he is such a buzzkill.
“Ooh, I’m Mr. Pwayboy. No fun allowed,” I slur.
Sam rolls his eyes.
Like it’s the most wonderful realization, I get a sudden burst of energy at my recall of there beingtwobars in this club. I take off, hurdling toward the crowd of people, trying like hell to get to the other bar.
Sam’s used to chasing me by now. It’s childish, but it’s too funny not to.
Dax and Sam should thank me for giving his beta such a good workout.
He can’t catch me, but he’s learning to call in reinforcements to corner me, so our game of tag becomes hide-and-seek.
I’m hidden in the sea of people before Sam can pinpoint where I am. Far enough away, I peer behind me, glimpsing Sam’s scowl through the crowd.
