“Your dress. It’s not leather, but I still like it. Green’s a good color on you.”
“Thank you,” I said slowly, suspicious at the compliment. “I like the tux.”
He shifted his shoulders with obvious discomfort. “Suits are for humans and vampires.”
“You’re pulling if off just fine. And you know you look good in it.”
The words were out before I knew I’d said them, and the surprised look on his face said he’d noticed.
“I should probably dial that back or your ego will be out of control. Let’s say you look acceptable for a shifter.”
“But not quite as good as a vampire.”
I just grinned at him. “I don’t want to insult you at my ancestral home.”
He snorted. “This is a good shindig for a vampire party.”
“It is nice,” I agreed. “What would a shifter party look like?”
“Leather, like you said. Muscles. Cleavage. Thrashing guitar. Broken beer bottles, supernaturals thrown through plate glass windows, axe-throwing contests.”
“That was a thing?”
He squinted as he remembered. “Couple of years ago. Berna decided the bar tables looked too new. They pulled a few off the bases, hung the tabletops, and threw axes at them.” He took a drink. “They did look better afterward. She has a good eye.”
“The bar looks good,” I said. “But the floor’s too clean.”
“If you only knew how many conversations we’ve had about that. I keep threatening to roll Thelma out there, change the oil right in the bar floor.”
“But you don’t, because Berna terrifies you?”
“I admit nothing.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
He was in a better mood now than he had been earlier today. Maybe it was the date or the booze, or just the fact that he was ata party instead of thinking about the Pack’s future and the enemies he might meet on the way to Alaska. Whatever the reason, I liked seeing him like this.
“What?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
“Nothing. Just thinking that you’re in a good mood.”
“Am I not usually?”
“Not in my direction,” I said with a grin.
Connor cocked an eyebrow at something behind me.
I looked back, found Riley grinning as he carried a three-foot-high stack of aluminum trays toward a buffet table. He’d also worn a tuxedo, and it was working just as hard as Connor’s to hold in the muscle and magic. He’d pulled his hair back into a man bun, and it showed off the interesting lines and angles of his face.
“You’re staring,” Connor said.
“He’s worth it,” I said, and grinned back at him. “Does it bother you that you’re the second-prettiest shifter these days?”
His gaze narrowed dangerously, and that made my blood race a little harder. Probably some ancient vampire reaction to shifters. “I’m neither pretty nor second place for anything.”
“Mmm-hmm. You’re plain and retiring, as every man in want of a wife should be.”
This time, he grunted. “I’m not in want of a wife.”
“All Tabby to the contrary. Doesn’t the Pack want you have a partner?” I frowned, trying to remember. “Isn’t there something in the code about the Apex being married?”