I lean over slightly before releasing Maddox’s hand, noting the feather stretching out along the outside of my right calf. Admittedly, it’s beautiful and strangely a bit comforting since I know it’s responsible for my abilities to repel the sexual compulsion an incubus puts out.
“Ready?” Maddox asks as we move around the rear of the Hummer, meeting Carrick and Titus on the sidewalk where we face each other in a small circle. Titus left his sword in the vehicle as there’s no way they’d let him in the bar with it.
It’s chilly out and I rub at my arms, which unfortunately causes my cleavage to deepen within the low-cut dress. Titus would be ever the gentleman and would keep his eyes level with mine. I expect Maddox to give an appreciative look, but he too keeps his gaze face level with me.
I’m surprised when it’s Carrick who doesn’t necessarily look at the dark shadow between my breasts but instead runs his eyes up my body in a slow perusal. I can tell by the naked appreciation on his face, he’s the one who chose this dress for me.
For the first time, I feel a sizzle of attraction from him as he takes me in—not an ounce of loathing, frustration, or annoyance. His normally bland-to-determined expression of indifference—depending on his mood—is replaced by a warmth that seems to radiate. Surely, it’s a trick of the street lighting, but his eyes seem to go even lighter in their color until they’re almost the shade of champagne.
And the one thing I can usually expect from Carrick whenever he looks at me is a perusal of my hair, which is wild and springing out in all directions as it pours down my back, finally landing his focus on my eyes. The intensity by which he studies me causes flutters in my belly, and it makes me irrationally nervous suddenly. One arm goes to my belly, the other twirling a lock of hair. “You should have told me we were doing this,” I complain. “I could have brought my makeup bag.”
“You most certainly don’t need makeup,” Maddox says, and there’s the leer I’d been expecting, which isn’t creepy so much as silly.
“No,” Carrick adds softly, gaze pinned to my face. “You don’t.”
“Enough ogling,” Titus growls, but there’s laughter in his eyes. “What’s the plan?”
It appears the plan is simple enough, and Carrick—back to being all business—lays it out as we walk to the bar. He, Titus, and Maddox will hang out in the background, circling, so eyes are on me at all times. I’m to sit at the bar and look sexy. I’m also to survey the area to see if I can locate the incubus that had every intention of draining my life away that night. If I do, I’m to touch my right ear while looking at him.
It’s a solid plan.
Simple.
I could have come up with it.
Inside the bar, we separate, and my protectors melt into the crowd. There’s a country-rock band on stage, and the dance floor is full of a combination of people rocking out to the music and others trying to dance. Most of the tables are full, and the long bar looks at about eighty-percent capacity. I choose a seat near the middle, which will give me the best vantage point, and order a Jack and Coke.
Drink before me, I swivel the stool to face outward and cross my legs to hold on to some semblance of modesty as the short dress rides up, barely covering the parts that need covering. Ordinarily, a woman would feel sexy in a dress like this, but I don’t for two reasons. Mainly because I’m focused on finding this incubus, but also because I’m wearing athletic-type underwear that comes up high on my tummy and rides low over my hips and is without a doubt the most un-sexy thing I own.
First, I look around to see if I can find Carrick, Titus, and Maddox. Given their height, it’s not hard, and they are spread out. Maddox is talking to a woman who is hanging on him, but he’s not paying her keen attention, his gaze outwardly focused and trailing over me a few times. Carrick is leaning up against a wall to the left of the stage, his arms crossed over his chest, and an aura about him that clearly states he doesn’t want to be approached.
Titus is on the opposite side of Carrick. While his expression is affable as he actually bops his head to the music, his sheer size keeps people away.
I focus my attention on the bar patrons, looking for the incubus that was with Wade. There are so many people out there that it’s hard to identify if he is too. I got a good look at him, but frankly, it’s hazy. Those few minutes he had his hand on me, hitting me hard with sexual compulsion, has dulled some of my memory. But I remember he had russet-colored hair with a bit of a red gleam under the bar lights and light blue eyes.