Page 16 of Property of Crypt Keeper

Shoulder-length hair tied loosely back. Leather cut hanging off a massive frame, groomed stubble catching the dim bar light, he smiled at the woman. Though his posture was calm, I could see the tension beneath it.

Predator at rest. Until he wasn’t. That, I understood well.

With each step closer I took, his scent filled my senses. Boldly, I slid onto the stool beside him. “Whiskey, neat,” I told the bartender when he glanced my way.

The man nodded and poured.

Gideon didn’t look at me right away, but I felt the shift in the air when he realized someone had taken the seat beside him. The wolf in him scented me. I could almost see it sniffing the air. His spine stiffened, and I knew recognition had hit him.

Good.

The bartender sat my glass in front of me. No fancy napkin underneath it, some of the golden liquid ran down the side and onto the scarred wood. I lifted my glass and turned slightly toward him.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming out tonight,” I murmured softly.

That got Bronx’s attention. He looked between us, brow furrowed. The woman frowned and eventually walked away with a huff.

Gideon’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Those golden eyes slid to mine. Flecks of green seemed to glitter. Appreciation flared, then vanished just as quickly.

I hid my grin behind my glass as I took a sip. The man had incredible control. I’d give him that.

“Do I know you?” he calmly asked as he lifted his drink to his lips. The lie was flawless.

I leaned closer, letting my hair fall over my shoulder.

“I’m hurt,” I purred with an exaggerated pout. “You were much friendlier the other night.”

Zeus snorted into his drink.

Bronx chuckled.

Gideon’s gaze darkened.

He couldn’t call me out without admitting he’d been alone in the swamp—something I knew Boomslang had explicitly forbidden because I’d heard it as I lurked outside their clubhouse.

Which meant I had the advantage. For now, anyway.

As I parted my lips, I let my hand slide across the bar until my fingers brushed his. Electricity sparked up my arm.

His reaction was immediate—a barely contained tension that rolled through him like a coiled spring.

“Careful,” he quietly warned.

“Or what?” I whispered, as I leaned in.

His voice dropped lower. “You’ll find out.”

Enjoying the game, I smiled. Then, I leaned in close enough that only he could hear me.

“You should be more polite to the woman who almost killed you.”

Bronx choked on his drink.

Gideon’s hand closed around my wrist. Not hard. But firm enough to remind me exactly how strong he was.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he chided, his voice smooth.

“Well, I do enjoy dangerous games.” The air between us crackled as his breath feathered across my lips.