Warrior Wolf (Protection, Inc 4)

A waiter was instantly at his side. “Yes, sir?”

“Our soup needs to be heated up,” Nick said quietly. If it had been just his, he wouldn’t have made a scene, but no way was he going to sit there and let Raluca eat cold soup.

Raluca kicked his ankle under the table. But it was too late. The waiter and every guest within earshot was staring at him like he was the world’s biggest idiot. Nick had no idea what he’d done, but it was obviously, incredibly, disastrously wrong.

“This is gazpacho, sir,” the waiter said snootily, putting a sarcastic emphasis on the “sir.” “It is a classic soup of Spanish origin, and is correctly served ice-cold.”

A hot tide of blood rose to Nick’s face, half embarrassment and half anger— the latter as much at himself as at all the fucking rich snobs all around him. He’d not only made himself look like an idiot, he’d blown his cover and maybe even endangered Raluca. He had to fix this, fast. But he couldn’t think of what to say, other than to mumble, “Sorry. Thought it was something else.”

The waiter rolled his eyes and departed.

“Young man, how were you invited to this gala?” the old snob across from him inquired.

Raluca’s voice was cold as the soup. “He came with me.”

The old snob’s snobby old wife tittered, holding a handkerchief to her mouth. Then she put it down and leaned in to speak to Raluca, assuming the intimate yet patronizing tone of an asshole relative. “Katarina, dear, a word of advice from someone who remembers what it was like to be your age. Why, I once dated an accountant! We all sow our wild oats. But we leave them where they belong— in the dirt.”

Raluca’s eyes flashed a dangerous shade of silver. If she didn’t cool down soon, they’d start glowing.

Alarmed, Nick nudged her under the table and muttered, “Your eyes. Uh, your mascara’s smearing.”

To his relief, she understood immediately. Raluca took several deep breaths, visibly calming herself. Her eyes returned to their storm-cloud shade.

Then, staring directly at the snobs, she picked up her glass of red wine and held it high to make sure everyone saw it. There was no mistaking what she was doing, or what she meant by it. Red wine went with the meat course, which had not yet been served. White wine went with soup.

Raluca was standing with Nick, etiquette be damned. Nick’s jaw dropped. His amazement was echoed in the shocked expressions of the snobs.

“He is where he belongs,” Raluca said, her chilly voice pitched to carry all the way across the ballroom. “With me.”

She raised the glass of the wrong wine to her lips and took a huge gulp.

Then she spat it out all over the table.

For a delighted instant, Nick thought she was doing the princess equivalent of spitting in their faces. Then he caught the acrid scent of dragonsbane.

“Fuck!” Nick yelled.

He had no idea how he’d missed the poison — he’d smelled that wine when it had been poured, he knew he had, and it had been fine — but how it had been tampered with didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that Raluca had just put poison in her mouth.

Nick leaped to his feet, knocking over his chair, and grabbed her shoulder. “Don’t swallow!”

Raluca’s ivory face had gone white with fear. She nodded.

“And don’t speak. It’ll send whatever’s left of that stuff straight down your throat.” Nick reached across the table and snatched up the old snob’s untouched red wine glass.

“Hey!” the snob exclaimed.

Nick didn’t give a fuck. It was less likely to be poisoned than any of his own glasses. He sniffed it. Nothing.

“Rinse your mouth out.” Nick pushed it into Raluca’s trembling hand.

She lifted it, then hesitated, looking around the room. Everyone was staring at them, exclaiming and asking questions and starting to stand up. She’d spat once on instinct, but it was obviously much harder for her to do so with everyone watching.

Nick spoke with alpha command. “Ignore those fucking rubberneckers. Swallowing’s an instinct. If you run to the bathroom, some of that stuff will go down your throat before you get there. Rinse your mouth. NOW.”

Raluca’s eyes were wide with shock and fear, like full moons. But she filled her mouth, rinsed the wine around, then spat it out onto her plate.

As shocked exclamations rose up all around them, Nick made sure his voice drowned them out. “Again!”