Warrior Wolf (Protection, Inc 4)

He grinned. “Let’s go dancing.”

Nick scoped out the nightclub as they pulled up. The sidewalk was crowded, but he spotted Rafa outside, apparently waiting to get in, and knew his teammate wouldn’t have missed any danger.

They walked toward the club. A pounding hip-hop beat spilled out the door, along with flashing multicolored lights. He glanced at her to see if the music annoyed her, but she seemed unconcerned.

“Destiny play you some better hip-hop?” Nick asked.

Raluca gave him another bewitching smile. “Destiny showed me all sorts of things. You shall see.”

As Nick passed Rafa, he moved as if he was pushing past, getting close enough to catch Rafa’s barely-whispered, “All clear. Destiny’s inside.”

Nick nodded and escorted Raluca past the bouncer, who had been tipped in advance to let them in. The interior was hot and crowded, loud and perfumed with scents and sweat and alcohol. He scanned the room, looking for Destiny. She stood with the same seeming casualness as Rafa, leaning against the bar with a drink in hand. As he caught her eye, she nodded as if responding to something the bartender had said, sending him another “all clear” signal.

Nick led Raluca further in. She looked around with the same delight he’d seen light up her face when they’d passed the mural on the one good part of that fucking idiotic road trip, when she’d taken her first bite of a Kate and Dan’s burger, when she’d listened to Bonnie Raitt, when she’d tried on shoes at that fancy shop. When she’d first touched him. Every time she touched him.

After every terrible thing that had happened to her, after an entire lifetime under the thumb of a man determined to crush her spirit and destroy her personality, Raluca had every reason to see the world through dark-tinted glasses. But instead, she sought out happiness wherever she went.

Nick tried to put himself in her shoes and see the nightclub as she saw it, as a place of beauty and wonder.

Bright lights flashed in a pattern, casting a kaleidoscope of moving colors onto the dancers on the floor. People were everywhere, laughing, drinking,

dancing, kissing, all dressed to kill. The air seemed to vibrate with energy, and the beat of the music throbbed through his body.

The DJ, a punk Asian guy with a lot of piercings and spiked blue hair, snapped the fingers of one hand to the beat and scratched the record with the other.

A curvy black woman stood against the wall, kissing a muscular white guy with green eyes and black hair just brushing his shoulders. She was maybe 5’3” and he was at least 5’10”, but she stood on her tip-toes and he bent down, caressing her back and sides.

A woman with brown eyes and olive skin set down her drink and moved to the dance floor. As she made a graceful spin, her rich dark purple hair flew out, giving Nick a glimpse of a butterfly tattoo behind her ear.

Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives. Nick was too. Even though he couldn’t kiss Raluca with Destiny watching, even though he was on duty and couldn’t dance with her, even though the reason he was on duty was that his mate was in danger, none of that could cast a shadow over his joy. He had a pack, his mate loved him, he was confident that he could protect her, and he felt at peace with himself for the first time in at least ten years. How could he not be happy?

“Can I buy you a drink?” Nick asked.

“Certainly,” Raluca said.

They didn’t touch, but they didn’t need to. Nick could feel the bond between them, unbreakable as steel and living as their own hearts. It told him that Raluca felt the same joy that he did, the same simple, unmatchable pleasure at being alive and in love.

He escorted her to the bar. Remembering the couture shop, he said, “A cocktail. Refreshing. Not too sweet. Rum and Coke for me.”

When the bartender brought their drinks, Nick raised his glass. “Cheers.”

Instead of clinking glasses, Raluca held up her other hand to halt him. Softly, so only he could hear, she said, “What does it mean to wolves, to drink from another’s hands? When I did it in the dressing room, I only intended to tease and flirt. But when you drank, I could feel that it meant something more to you. When you told me your story, you said it was like becoming blood brothers. Is that the only meaning?”

Nick shook his head, then leaned in close and spoke quietly. “No. It depends on what sort of relationship you already have. If you’re friends, then yeah, it’d be blood brothers. That’s what my wolf thought Protection, Inc. was doing. And I guess he was right. But if you’re in love, it’s like getting engaged. The person who drinks is saying that they mean to give themself and hold nothing back. Usually, you’d both do it together. But even then in the dressing room, I did mean it.”

“So you have already done your part,” Raluca said thoughtfully. “Are there words?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell them to me.”

Nick saw where she was headed. He glanced at Destiny, who was scanning the crowd, then shrugged inwardly. If she saw, she saw. This was more important. “‘I drink from your hands. I give you my heart.’”

“If you will, Nick.” Raluca indicated his rum and Coke. Her hand trembled, but not from fear. Only love shone in her eyes. And that quiver showed him that she understood the importance of the ritual.

All the same, Nick couldn’t help smiling as he switched their glasses. “The important part isn’t the drink, it’s the hands that hold it. This is a big moment, and you should enjoy every bit of it. So no American chemicals for you.”

Raluca’s smile answered his, then faded into solemnity. “Go on. I have memorized the words.”