Broken Warrior (The Weavers Circle 1)

As the initial torrent of hunger wound down, Clay wrapped his arms around Dane, keeping him pressed tight from hip to lips. He could feel every ragged breath and shudder as Clay nipped at his lower lip. He allowed Dane to break off the kiss. Those big beautiful eyes stared at him in dazed wonder.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Dane whispered. He leaned in and kissed Clay again as if he couldn’t stop himself. He licked into Clay’s mouth, briefly exploring again, seeming to refresh his memory, then pulled away. “You’re the hottest guy in here.”

Clay laughed. “You have no idea, baby. Almost every man and woman in this place would kill to suck your cock.”

Dane’s smile turned wicked. “And you? Would you kill to suck my dick?”

Groaning, Clay slid a hand up Dane’s back. He threaded his fingers through Dane’s soft hair and lightly gripped it. “Anything you want. My mouth belongs to you.” Clay pulled him in for another kiss, but this time, he took control and Dane melted into him. He shifted closer like he wanted to climb into Clay’s lap, but the damn table was in their way.

Fuck, this kiss was spiraling out of control so damn fast, and all Clay could think was how they were both wearing too many clothes. Didn’t matter that they were making out in a crowded nightclub where they were likely putting on a show to rival what had been happening on the stage.

“Hate to break this up!” Baer loudly said when he returned to the table.

Dane tore his lips away from Clay and pulled away with enough force that Clay had to release him. But he didn’t go far, at least. Baer hadn’t slid into the booth on his arrival. He was standing at the front of the table. There was no look of teasing or amusement on his bearded face as Clay would have expected.

“What’s up?” Clay asked while trying to adjust himself under the table without drawing too much attention to his current state.

Baer didn’t so much as smirk at him. Yeah, it was bad.

“You remember that trouble we had at the flea market?”

“Yeah,” Clay grumbled when he really wanted to let loose a torrent of curses. It wasn’t fucking fair. He’d finally gotten somewhere with Dane, and now the world was going to blow up around him. Couldn’t he at least have gotten off first?

Well, not at the club, but later. At the house.

No, this was going to totally destroy the mood.

“Well, that trouble is here,” Baer snarled. He didn’t know if Baer was frustrated for him, or if the guy had found his own entertainment for the night, and it was now being interrupted.

“What’s going on?” Dane asked, reminding them sharply that he was an innocent guy about to get caught in the middle of something very dangerous.

Clay met Baer’s gaze over the table, and they both hesitated. Not something Dane was likely to miss, but they had to plunge forward.

“We’ve kind of run afoul of this group,” Baer explained.

“Sort of a gang,” Clay added.

“And they want to fight you?”

“More like kill us.”

“Shit! These are the guys that attacked you when you first came to the house, right? Can’t we call the cops?” Dane shifted in the booth, moving like he was going to pull out his cell phone from his back pocket. Clay grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“We can’t…” Clay’s voice died off because he didn’t have a reason that would make an ounce of sense in that moment.

“Yeah, we can’t.”

“Why?”

Baer and Clay exchanged another look over the table. The aunts hadn’t exactly said they couldn’t tell Dane the truth. It was more of a problem that it wasn’t a fast explanation, let alone one that Dane would accept right away. And they needed to get him safely out of the club before shit started hitting the fan.

“It’s complicated, but I swear we’ll explain later,” Clay said.

“Yeah, when we’re home again. And safe,” Baer tacked on.

Clay turned his full attention to Baer and the problem at hand. “How many are we talking?”

“Not sure, but they’re blocking both the front and back exits. With this many people in the nightclub…”

Baer didn’t need to finish the thought. There was no doubt the pestilents would plow through helpless humans to take out the Weavers. They needed something as a distraction or to get all the people to safely exit the bar at once.

“Look, I need you to take Dane to the Jeep—”

“Wait!” Baer said, but his comment was nearly drowned out by Dane’s “Hell, no!”

Clay nearly growled in frustration. They didn’t have time for discussion. “Get Dane to the Jeep. I’ll create a distraction.”

“You go with Dane. I can handle the distraction,” Baer argued.

“Really?” Clay stared at him, eyes wide and eyebrows shoved nearly to his hairline as he tried to silently communicate the obvious. Baer couldn’t fucking shift into anything distracting in a club full of people. The distraction would turn into full-blown panic and chaos.