When We Were Mates (Demetra and Emris) novel Chapter 71

Chapter 71

Demetra.

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“A date?” Tiffany’s voice pitches up like I just told her I’m running away to join a circus.

“A date.” I say it plain, but I can feel the heat creeping up my neck. The only reason I’m even telling her is because I need to slip out of this pack house without a hundred questions trailing behind me, and she’s my best shot at a solid alibi. I need her to lie if anyone asks where I went.

“Hmm.” Tiffany circles my dressing room slow, dragging her finger along the vanity, then locks eyes me in the mirror. She taps her jawline like she’s solving a case.

with

“I thought you said this would all end with a divorce. We literally just watched it on TV. Emris divorce is official, he sent Elena packing, taught her a very sweet lesson in the process. So… again…” She leans against the wall. “A date?”

“Well.” I twist my fingers together, searching for something smart to say.

Nothing comes.

How do I explain to her that Emris and I have never been on a date? All those years of being his secret, and he never once took me out, never once walked beside me where people could see. Yeah, we’ll never actually be together, maybe this whole thing falls apart the second I let myself want it, but there are things I have always wanted to try with him.

Just to know what it feels like.

“I told you…you’re gonna get twisted up in this.”

“I am not twisted. I promise…I still have my common sense.” I check my hair for the fifth time in ten minutes and my phone lights up on the vanity. It’s one message from Emris and it says. I’m here.

My stomach does something stupid.

“Anyway.” I clear my throat and grab a coat. “If Slade or Dad or Aunt Scotty or Amira or anyone else asks…. just say Sabrina and I went out. Okay?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll do that. Just be careful, okay? Gosh, you and Emris are both acting like college kids, sneaking around and playing games.”

“Thanks.” I give myself one last look in the mirror.

Emris said he’s taking me shopping, but for now I’m in a simple wrap skirt that falls just above my knee and a square–neck top with short sleeves. Nothing that looks like I tried too hard but my hands are shaking a little anyway.

“You already look pretty.” Tiffany catches my reflection. “He’ll be an idiot if he doesn’t see that.”

I smile at her joke and slip out the door.

Amira’s off at a playdate with Luna Skyler’s daughter so there’s no chance of her calling for Mommy at the worst possible moment. Dad and Slade have been locked in pack discussions for days now, some endless

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thing they won’t tell me about, so they’re not going to notice I’m gone. Still, they always check in on me at the weirdest times, which is exactly why I need Tiffany to work her magic.

I told Emris not to park at the main gate. Too many eyes, too many security cameras, too many people who would love to report back that the Alpha of the Black Covenant Pack was sitting outside our pack house like he’s picking up his prom date. This whole little arrangement would be over before it started.

I walk past the gardens, past the side entrance, past the staff quarters until I reach the vine–covered gate at the edge of the property. And there it is. His sports car. Lemonade yellow, loud and obnoxious and exactly the kind of car that gets the whole city talking.

Emris is leaning against it like he owns the afternoon.

His hair is pulled back in a messy bun. The white shirt he’s wearing is stretched across his chest and biceps. His jeans sit low on his hips like he stepped off a billboard. He’s wearing dark lenses, pushed up on his head now that he’s spotted me. And when he takes them off, his eyes assess me.

I step one foot past the gate and it shuts behind me with a soft click automatically. Emris is smiling now and I feel like a teenage girl with jelly knees.

“Wow. You look…Gorgeous.”

Emris says but I barely did anything to my outfit. He’s the one taking me shopping, so there’s no point going all out with my outfit at first. Not that anything in my closet is cheap…everything I own is expensive.

“You look…” I search for the word. “Flashy.”

“Oh.” He glances back at the car. “The car?”

I steal another look at him.

I can see the outline of his dick pressed against the zipper. Every time he breathes, his chest rises and falls, and I catch myself imagining climbing on top of him right here in this parking lot.

His thighs in those jeans…. I know exactly how they feel when he’s on top of me, when I wrap my legs around his waist and dig my heels into his lower back, when he spreads them apart to make room for me to crawl between.

The gold chain around his neck keeps catching the light, and all I can think about is pulling it while he’s inside me, watching it dangle against my throat while he fucks me so hard I can’t speak.

“You always loved your sports cars.” I lie, because I’m not about to admit I’m staring at his mouth thinking about how it would feel wrapped around my nipple right now, in broad daylight, while anyone could walk by.

Emris walks around the front of the car and opens the passenger door for me. I step close to slip inside, and the moment my body passes in front of his, I feel his hand graze my waist.

His warm lips press against my hair, just a whisper of a kiss, and I swear my knees actually buckle.

“I missed you.”

The words hit me soft, and I freeze. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my skin and his lips brushing against my ear. I was supposed to slide into the car, but instead I turn slightly, slow, until I’m looking right

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Chapter 71

into his eyes. Cold frosty silver.

“Did you miss me?” Emris‘ voice rough, like he already knows the answer but wants to hear me say it

anyway.

His lips press against my cheek and my eyes flutter close. My lips part on a gasp I can’t quite hold back. Then I remember where we are. The Lion Pride pack house is fifty feet away. Anybody could walk past, could look out a window, could see me standing here melting into him like I haven’t spent five years building walls to keep him out.

I push his hand away gently and get into the car.

Emris shuts my door and walks around the front.

The windows are down so warm air rushes through the car, whipping my hair around my face and catching the ends of his loose strands that escaped his bun as we leave the territory. I lean my arm out the window, let my fingers catch the wind, feel the speed of it all.

Emris glances at me. I glance at him. And for no reason at all, we both burst out laughing. Just laughing, like teenagers who stole a car.

He pulls up to a boutique and a valet rushes to the door. I look up at the sign and my eyebrows lift. This place is exclusive. The kind of exclusive where you need an invitation just to walk through the doors but I also have money now being Alpha Ronin’s daughter and the world–wide reknown artist. I could buy anything I want.

What could he possibly show me here that I can’t get on my own?

Then we step inside.

The boutique is empty. It’s grand floors stretch out like a gallery with racks of clothes been pulled out like someone prepared for a private showing…dresses arranged by color, shoes lined up like art and accessories under soft lighting. There are maybe three assistants in the whole space, standing quietly.

No other customers.

I glance back at Emris and suddenly my mind goes somewhere it shouldn’t!

There was this drama I watched a while ago. A scene that stuck with me longer than it should have.

The male lead followed the protagonist into a dressing room while the assistants were busy elsewhere. He got on his knees in front of her and pressed his mouth between her legs right there, in the privacy of a boutique just like this one. I remember how the scene was shot…soft lighting, expensive clothes hanging around them, her hands gripping his hair, his shoulders as she moaned.

My throat goes dry.

Emris has never done that to me. We’ve been together in dark theaters and supply closets and the back of his car, always fast, always stolen, always focused on him inside me, on the finish, on getting it done before someone found us. I’ve never had his mouth on me like that. I’ve never had him on his knees for me. It’s not even something I let myself imagine.

But right now, standing in this empty boutique with soft lighting and pulled–out racks and assistants who

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look like they’ve been trained to disappear, my brain is replaying that drama scene like a movie I can’t pause. The dressing rooms are right there. The assistants are few. And Emris is looking at me like I’m the only woman who has ever existed.

I swallow.

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