Gifted

Chapter Nine - Hunter

Dropping my hand from her waist, she stepped away, walking towards the lady's room.

My eyes tracked her, imprinting every detail. Flawless. Every goddamn inch of her.

The way her dress smoothly followed every curve, fluid over her waist, hips and that perfect round arse. She was simply mouthwateringly perfect. And, she looked just as good from the back as she did from the front.

Her hair, a few inches above her shoulders, left the smooth skin of her neck exposed. Again, the image of my hand wrapping around it, letting my tongue run up the side, forced my stomach to clench, and the hair to rise on the back of my neck.

Wasn't there any part of this woman that I didn't find sexy?

My jaw tensed as I tried to calm my pulse and the rushing of blood to my dick. Wouldn't look good being stood here with an obvious erection. And I didn't want Scarlett Monroe thinking she caused it. Fuck no. Her eyes already kept wandering over the length of me with that hopeful look in them.

I wished women wouldn't look at me like that.

I refocused on watching Sage. Swerving my head around Scarlett so as not to miss a thing. I could see how many heads she turned as she walked past them. Men took a second and third look.

The urge to rip their fuckin' eyes from their sockets was immense, and I clenched my hand into a fist without thinking, digging my nails into the palms.

My wolf snarled, and I felt an unreal possessive urge kick in, thumping through my head, coiling and twisting and tightening around my throat.

Jesus Christ, what is going on with me?

We both needed to chill the fuck out.

Swallowing down the unnerving feeling flooded my body. I focused on scanning the room to see the obvious interest from men and wolves in the room. Now I know none of these bastards would be stupid enough to approach her when they could see she arrived with me. But I see one prick looking at her—longer than he fucking should be.

Barry Lyons. Fuckin' pretty boy. Second to the Alpha stood next to him, Johnnie Walton from the West Side Pack. Bunch of nasty hard bastards. They didn't like me and it's fuckin' fair to say, the feeling was mutual.

I knew that look though. Prick.

Like he's thinking about fucking her.

And then the cheeky bastard looked at me with a fuckin' shit-eating grin spread across his face. Which his face would look a hell of a lot better when I've added a black eye, busted nose and maybe a few teeth missing.

My skin tightened as my wolf rippled just below the surface. He was desperate to be let loose on this wanker.

He continued to look at me and I stood straighter, pushing my shoulders back. Clenching my jaw, I glared at him.

He's fuckin' asking for it.

He sharply looked away. As anyone who knew me—knew not to fuck with me.

That's right sunshine—keep your beady eyes to yourself if you want to keep them!

Point made.

I kept my eyes on him for a few seconds more before I noticed two women behind him looking at her. Shitting hell. Just my luck it's Harriet and Chantelle, twins. Both were regrets of mine. Their eyes were turning green as they stared at her. Not that Sage noticed. She seemed oblivious to all around her.

I now wished that I hadn't brought her here, inwardly groaning, I let my gaze return to Scarlett as Sage disappeared from my sight.

Now for some strange reason, this made me nervous, and I had to stop myself from heading her way, planting my feet firmly on the floor.