Tequila Sunrise (Last Call #3)
Copyright Information
Tequila
Sunrise
Copyright © 2008 Moira Rogers
http://www.moirarogers.com
Smashwords
edition.
Originally
published by Changeling Press in 2008. Reissued by the author in
2012.
This is a work
of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or
used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights
reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written
permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations
in a book review.
Table of Contents
TEQUILA SUNRISE
Werewolf looking for a dominant.
Kieran scanned the floor at Last Call and
wondered, not for the first time, which of the men in the crowd
would be the one to fuck his girlfriend.
Next to him, Eve argued with the bartender,
her voice husky and nervous. “I’m not discounting tradition. I just
wonder about the symbolism.”
“
You’d have to ask the
owner, ma’am. But it’s a drink with layers. A top and a
bottom.”
Eve’s cheeks heated, and Kieran heard the
way her heart raced even over the loud music and the noise from the
dance floor. “Oh.”
“
Do you want to order
one?”
The flashing lights hurt his eyes, and the
music was loud enough to rattle even normal eardrums. His
supersensitive ones were starting to question the wisdom of coming
to the club.
Still, it had taken him the better part of
six months to convince Eve to come with him, and he wasn’t going to
leave without getting what he’d come for. So he turned and glanced
at the menu in Eve’s trembling hand. “The Sunrise means you’re
looking for a top, right?” At the bartender’s nod, Kieran pulled
out his wallet. “What’s your name?”
It must have been an odd request, because
the man fidgeted a little. “Bernie.”
“
Well, Bernie.” He pulled
out his gold card and held it out between two fingers, trying to
ignore the way Eve held herself rigidly at his side. “We’ll need
two.”
The bartender glanced at Eve, whose
breathing had turned a little unsteady, before turning his
attention back to Kieran. “You don’t need two unless you’re both
participating. Just to avoid misunderstandings.”
As nervous as Eve was, she couldn’t hide the
longing in her eyes. Kieran grasped her hand and smiled
reassuringly. “We do everything together, Bernie. We’ll need two
drinks.”
The bartender turned away, and Eve’s fingers
tightened almost painfully around his. “You don’t have to do this,”
she whispered. “If this doesn’t go well… I don’t want to risk
losing you over something silly.”
He drew her hand up to his mouth and kissed
her knuckles. “It’s not silly. It’s something you need. And you
can’t lose me, love. Not over this. So we’ll do it together.”
“
Thank you.” Her gaze
caught his, and she stared at him as if no one else existed as the
bartender’s voice cut through the music, spilling out of the
speakers to announce to the patrons of the club that the couple at
the bar had ordered a pair of Tequila Sunrises.
Eve was a strong werewolf -- it was the
reason they were at Last Call, after all -- and her sudden tense
nervousness evidenced itself in a prickling wave of power that
spilled out from her and raised the hair on the back of his
neck.
The wolf inside him whined. He steeled
himself against the urge to submit to her, to roll over and show
his belly, even in a figurative sense. He was used to it, to
fighting the instinct to cringe when Eve was wound up or
displeased.
More than a few people had abandoned their
dancing in favor of watching the events unfold at the bar, and
Kieran felt the appraising weight of their stares as he handed Eve
her drink and lifted his own. He knew what they were thinking; it
was nothing less than what he heard from his own pack all the
time.
You don’t belong together.
He raised his glass in a toast and arched an
eyebrow at Eve. “Tonight is for both of us,” he whispered. “No
regrets.”
“
No regrets,” she agreed in
a quiet, tense whisper before tipping her drink back.
They didn’t belong together.
Zack Elliot absently swirled the remaining
beer in his bottle, every bit of his attention riveted to the
couple on the dais in the middle of the bar.
The woman was gorgeous. Nothing
as refined as
pretty
could accurately describe her earthy, exotic beauty, from
the dark hair pulled up behind her head to the flare of her hips
under the flowing, brightly-patterned dress she wore.
Power radiated from her, a fierce dominance
that made him want to bare his teeth and bite her. His hand
tightened around his bottle, and he set it down on the nearest
table. The last thing he wanted was to end up in the bathroom,
picking glass slivers out of his hand.
The blond man sitting next to her was
obviously incapable of handling the power inside her. His body
language said it all, from the slight slump of his shoulders to the
way he hunched a little, as if trying to keep his head lower than
hers in spite of his four inch height advantage.
Zack had seen it before, though not often,
and almost never with a woman this strong. The fact that she was
there, desperate for a man who could challenge her, wasn’t
surprising. The fact that the man beside her seemed willing to go
along with it, even participate… That was different.
She turned, and the full force of her power
hit Zack as her eyes found his. There was nothing submissive there,
nothing but wild strength and a need for someone just as strong. A
craving for somebody stronger, somebody to take the burden of
control away from her, if only for a few hours.
If it had just been the woman, Zack would
already have her room key in his pocket and his hand at her back,
urging her toward the elevator. She was exactly what he’d been
looking for -- a woman who could handle the dominant wolf inside
him. He’d kept him penned for far too long, denying the wild in
favor of the civilized.
It was driving him crazy.
But it wasn’t just the woman looking for
domination tonight. The man beside her drained the last bit of his
drink, reminding Zack that the two were a package deal. Then the
man turned, following the woman’s line of sight, and caught Zack’s
stare.
The blond man looked away immediately.
Well, why the fuck not?
Zack arched one
eyebrow at the woman, and held her gaze as he approached the
bar.
She didn’t look away, but she did shift to
the side, a subtle move that put her in front of the man. Whether
he was strong enough for her or not, it was obvious she’d long
since staked her claim. He belonged to her, and she’d protect him,
even if the look she’d leveled on Zack had already begun to shift
from angry challenge to hot invitation.
The mixed signals would be easy enough to
sort out upstairs. He stepped up in front of her, his eyes fixed on
hers as he reached behind her to rest his hand on the man’s
shoulder. “Give me the key.”
The blond man stiffened for a second, then
turned and rose from the stool. “Eve?” His voice held a trace of an
accent, probably British. “Is this okay with you?”
