Dustin’s abs flexed like he wanted to retch, but he was nodding now. Emma turned up the volume of the radio until he hunched against the sound. Stroking his hair back so she could see more of his face, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his neck, right over his tripping pulse. She sucked gently, then grazed his skin with her teeth. His body began to relax, and his breath came easier.
And as the howls faded behind them, she rested her cheek against his shoulder and asked, “Is that your old pack?”
Dustin shook his head and ran a hand down his facial scruff. “No, Emma. That’s my current pack.”
Chapter Seven
His current pack? That was a weird way of putting it, but when she’d asked him, Dustin had shut down on her. He’d stared out the front window the entire way to the bar, never once casting a single glance her way on the twenty-minute drive.
Clearly, Dustin was freaking out by whatever dynamics were in his pack, so as he coasted along the winding road, Emma pulled a cold burger out of the bag and began eating it. She fed him a bite every time she took one, and little by little, he softened his grip on the steering wheel.
“This car looks hella expensive,” she said around a bite.
“It was.”
“Are you a millionaire?”
“Ha!” He still looked white as a sheet, but at least he was smiling again. “Typical. Interested in my money.”
“Please, I don’t need your money. I have money invested and in savings.”
“Then why were you going on about how you need to get a job so you can afford your motel room, hmmm?”
“Because I’m not touching my investments or savings! I want to be a rich vampire. I invest almost all of my song-writing money and pay for my living with regular jobs. Was that your brother back there?”
“Yes.”
“Why was he calling you?”
“I don’t know. Do you want to go back and ask him?”
“Hell no, that was scary. There’s Logan’s truck,” she said, pointing to the parking lot in front of Drat’s Boozehouse. “French fry?” She flopped a soft one beside his cheek and waited for him to turn and bite it out of her hand. “So, what do we tell the D-Team?”
“About what?”
“About us.”
“Nothing, it’s none of their damn business.”
“Fine, but you have to be nice to me in there.”
“I’m always nice.” He said that with a wicked smile. “If you want me to eat you out in the bathroom, give me a signal.”
She cracked a grin and played along. “What kind of signal?”
“I don’t know. Do some of that sign language stuff.” He made a hole with one hand and stuck his other finger in the middle a few times. “Do that if you get horny. It’ll be my bat signal.”
“You’re exhausting.”
He turned the music down, then said, “Thank you,” and gave her a megawatt grin that would’ve buckled her knees if she were standing. Dustin was trouble in a pretty package, for sure and for certain.
Whatever he was feeling back there with his old pack was dissipating by the second. And really, a part of her was relieved to be this close to the D-Team again. They were a mixed bag of nuts, but they had built some strange thread of loyalty to each other during this crew interview process. She was at least fifty-four percent certain they would have his back if Dustin’s old pack moseyed on in here. Geez, no wonder he wanted to pledge to Kane’s Crew. His brother was a grade-A asshole, and the way he talked about the others always putting him in his place, she was pretty sure she hated every douchebag in his old pack. And that was saying something because she hated very little in her life.
“I like your sex hair,” Dustin said through a cheeky grin as she got out.
Emma looked at her reflection in the window and nearly choked on air. She looked like a lion on a bad hair day. And was that…? Was that a leaf? She plucked a twig out of her hair and laughed.
“Wait, I want to keep that.” He snatched it from her hand before she could throw it on the ground.
“Why?” she asked as she pulled her crazy hair into a high ponytail.
“Memories. That was our first bang, Shortcake. That’s a pretty big fuckin’ deal.”
“Please, like you haven’t been with a hundred other women.”
“Yeah, but none of them got twigs stuck in their hair.” Laughing like he was God’s gift to humor, Dustin ducked away from her swat.
She thought he was joking, but he really shoved the little limb into his back pocket and then crooked his elbow out gallantly. “For the show,” he announced.
“Oh, so we are a pretend couple tonight?”
“Why not?” he said recklessly.
Oh, that man had the devil in his smile. Emma loved it when he was like this, easy with her, eyes only on her, a real smile on his lips. Perfect hair tumbling down his cheeks, that skin-tight sweater all stuck to his muscles like he was walking the stage in some wet T-shirt contest, and his jeans sitting low on his hips. And his eyes…one green and one blue, and a part of her hoped that was genetic because if she ever had a baby, she would love one with bi-colored eyes, just like Dustin.
Babies? That had come out of nowhere. She needed to rein it in. This was just pretend, and she was getting lost in fantasies of playing house. Dustin had about a hundred too many secrets for her head to be on future babies. Besides, she would be a vampire within the next couple of years, and she’d seen the children of vampire/shifter couples—terrifying little critters with little control.