Page 16 of The Spare
“You’rethatput off by the prospect of talking to a beautiful woman?”
“I’m already talking to one.” He took a sip of his drink. “And I know this one can hold a conversation.”
CHAPTER8
Marcus
Icould kill Xander.
Why the fuck didn’t he stop her from going out in that dress?
Her long legs were on full display. The dress would lift when Rohan danced with her. Tight enough that it wouldn’t lift entirely when he spun her, but there was still enough of her bare thighs to get the attention of almost every man in the bar.
It made me wish I had never agreed to come out tonight. Henry roped me into it, and a mixture of guilt and nostalgia convinced me to go.
She and I were left to talk for a while until a beat played that practically took control of her body.
After the dance, he told her something that made her laugh. It shouldn’t have set my jaw on edge the way it did. They were friends. They were all friends. I kept reminding myself of that fact, hoping it would extinguish the white-hot anger every moment she wasn't next to me.
It never used to bother me this much. But now, my mind was consumed with monitoring every person that even looked at her. It was nearly impossible to listen to whatever Henry was saying.
She ignited a strange feeling in me, and it needed to stop.
She floated between sitting beside Henry and me and getting up to dance for a few minutes. Luckily, sitting between us meant nobody would be hitting on her. If only she could sit still.
Bopping along to the music, she sat beside me when Henry got up. "Are you going to scowl all night?"
"I'm not scowling, I'm thinking."
She laughed. "I have trouble believing anything Henry said required additional thought."
"Remind me not to upset you."
She rolled her eyes.
“Why not dance?” she asked and took another large sip of her drink. She was less inhibited and more flirtatious. It bothered me until she sat beside me. Then I found it endearing. “I know you can.”
Henry was a few feet away. And just like Xander had witnessed all of Sloan’s past, Henry witnessed mine. He knew my history and wouldn’t let me near his sister if he knew even half of what was happening in my head. If I put my hands on her, we’d have a problem. Filling in for Xander at a black-tie event was one thing. Dancing with her in a bar was another.
“Why not sit still? I knowyoucan.”
Her gaze stuck to mine for a moment. “Dancingseems insane to anyone who can’t hear music.” She looked down and played with the straw in her drink.
My heart faltered. It was a slightly modified quote from Nietzsche.
Sloan did that on occasion. She read everything. Classics, fiction, biographies, fantasy, all of it. She had a bizarre fascination with revolution biographies. For years, she’d thrown obscure references into conversations. I didn’t think anyone ever noticed she did it. A pretentious little game she played, but nobody else was playing.
I always caught them, even if I had to covertly look them up. I almost never said anything.
“German philosophers are a little heavy for a night out.” I focused all my energy on slowing my racing pulse. She beamed. I won that round.
She took another large sip. I got distracted momentarily by what looked like something happening behind her. I saw Xander's brows furrow as he and Tristan talked. Seconds later, Xander walked toward us. Tristan turned to join the rest of the group.
"We're leaving." Xander’s uncharacteristically serious voice was low, like it was restraining concern. Most of the time, my little brother was hard to take seriously. But the look on his face was one that I didn’t see often.
Sloan turned, likely to question him, but she complied. One look at his face and hers turned in a flash. It was enough that she complied without question, no small feat when it came to Sloan.
"Okay." Her voice was soft. Almost scared. Not the unyielding woman I knew. “Let’s go.”
