Theirs to Corrupt (Titans Captivated #5)

Theirs to Love

EXCERPT

Rylee

Alone, I sip my drink through a straw.

But I can’t resist another peek in the mirror.

The men are walking toward the bar. Probably to take a couple of empty seats at the far end.

But they don’t change directions.

And then… They approach. There’s no doubting their intention.

As if by prior arrangement, they move in, standing at the end of the bar.

The dark haired one on the left scares the hell out of me. He reminds me of a panther, sleek and graceful and slightly terrifying. Very real feminine intuition screams a warning to flee far and fast while I still can.

The other gentleman—if either can be called that—has a gentler presence, or at least less threatening. His gray eyes hold kindness. Then he blinks, and that emotion is gone, replaced by a cool, calculating gleam.

Had I only imagined kindness? Maybe a trick of the light? Or just my fanciful imagination?

Then the man on the left speaks. “We’ve been watching you.”

God, his voice is hypnotic. As deep as it is rich.

He leans in just a little closer. His eyes captivate me. Almost amber and predatory. I try to look away but I’m helpless, trapped within his compelling gaze.

“I see your necklace.”

Without thinking, I touch it.

“Is it a collar?”

I shake my head.

“So you’re not under a Dominant’s protection.”

“No…” I struggle with how to finish my sentence. Instinct urges me to address him formally, but protocol doesn’t demand it. Right now, despite his overwhelming and Dominant air, I have no connection to him. And thirty seconds from now, he’ll likely turn on the heel of his very expensive shoes and walk away.

“How remiss.”

“I’m sorry?”

“If you were mine, I’d have you collared, and you’d never be left unattended for anyone to approach.”

My world spins, and my breath seems to freeze somewhere in my diaphragm. If I were his…? The idea is absurd. Something out of a fantastical fairytale. For someone else who isn’t me.

“And you’re here to scene.” He inclines his head, indicating my wristband.

Where is this conversation going? Are they toying with me? The blond doesn’t seem like the type, but the other… I wonder if he has a cruel side.

“We haven’t met.”

The blond has spoken, shattering the building tension. Relieved, I direct my attention toward him. Anything to escape the gravitational pull of his friend.

“Everett Parker.” He extends his hand.

His voice is soothing, like a cool evening rain, and his grip is reassuring. “Uhm…Anne.” Have I really stumbled over my scene name? Absently I wonder if his name is also made up. It suits him.

“My pleasure… Anne.”

“Ours.” The other man cuts into the conversation. “Our pleasure.”

Courtesy dictating that I also greet him, I give him my full attention, something he seems to command as well as demand.

“Drake.” He’s bolder than his friend. Instead of the politeness I expect, he lifts my hand and kisses the back of it intimately, in a way that has my wayward heart galloping toward happily ever after. No man has ever treated me this way.

“Is this your first visit?” Everett seems to be the one with the greatest social skills.

I can’t help but smile.

“Was that funny?”

“Sorry. Just reminds me of the pickup line. ‘Do you come here often?’”

Everett grins. “I’ll give you that. It was a pickup line of sorts. And not as smooth as I hoped evidently.”

His honesty disarms me, and I respond in kind. “I come here every once in a while with my friend.” I’m not sure if I would have the courage to attend by myself.

“And you have been known to enjoy a scene?”

“It’s amazing stress relief.”

“And has it been a tough day?”

Day? Dozens of them—in a row. “Year.” I’m not sure where the admission comes from. Maybe because this whole situation is surreal. I might not ever come back now. Which means I’ll never run into this pair of dangerous, charming men again.

Drake, obviously over the easy chitchat, changes the direction of the conversation. “Have you ever played with two guys before?”

To cover my shock, I take a drink of my soda. “No.” Most times I don’t play with anyone. But the idea secretly thrills me every bit as much as it terrifies me.

“Anne, I’d like to thoroughly Dominate you while Parker here plays with you and paddles your ass.”

I freeze.

Everett winces. “What my Neanderthal friend means is?—”

“I meant what I said, Parker.”

Does he always refer to his friend by his last name?

Then Drake leans forward, smelling of masculine determination. He fingers my necklace then places his finger alongside my carotid artery where my pulse flutters like a butterfly. “I want to thoroughly Dominate you and ruin you for any other man.”

I resist the impulse to pinch myself. If this is a dream, I suddenly—maybe stupidly—don’t want to wake up.

Still, a nagging, incredulous part of me refuses to be silenced. I vowed not to be any man’s plaything ever again. Last year, I’d believed Peter loved me. His awful comments to me when I found out otherwise nearly destroyed my soul. “You’re the kind of woman men fuck, not marry.”

I need to be sure this isn’t a horrible game to them. “You can’t mean this.”

“On the contrary. I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“Why me?”

Everett responds. “Are you kidding me? You’re beautiful.”

With a small laugh, I shake my head. I believed that kind of smooth-talking lie once. Never again. “Even if I believed that, there’s no shortage of gorgeous women here tonight.” Most who wouldn’t hesitate for one second to agree to what either of these men suggest.

Drake doesn’t seem to have the same patience as his friend. “Do you see me—us—looking at anyone other than you?” He leans in just a fraction of an inch closer, and his presence overwhelms me. “You were watching in the mirror.”

So much for my clandestine skills.

“Deny it.”

I remain silent.

“You know we were watching you.”

My friend Juliana had said as much, even while I’d remained oblivious.

Everett shoots Drake a quelling glare, not that it seems to have any impact. “We’d enjoy—very much—spending some time pleasing you.”

For another few moments, I debate. The night could be amazing if I keep my heart on a short leash. Playing with them doesn’t have to mean anything. But still we need boundaries. “It’s just for tonight.”

“For a start.” Drake’s counter is immediate, as if he’s anticipated my response.

Before Peter, I’d have never been capable of what I say next. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. Thank you for your interest.”

“Thank you for your interest?” Drake snarls.

Everett, however, smiles. “The lady is making a simple request.”

“She’s being insulting.” Though he responds to his friend, Drake doesn’t take his gaze off me.

Is he feral?

I shiver. Drake, whoever he is in real life, is definitely not the kind of man to cross. Wondering who this new, bold version of myself is, I respond in kind. “If you’re offended, you’re welcome to go find someone else to scene with.” Hell’s bells. My voice shakes with emotion I’m trying to hide.

“I know what I want.” He continues to invade my space.

Numerous dungeon monitors—obvious from their navy T-shirts with DM in great big gold letters—are spread throughout the club, watching every interaction. Security cameras are prevalent as well. It’d take less than two seconds to get rid of Drake and Everett.

“But if the scene goes as well as I intend, then I’d like the opportunity for us to pursue this further.”

That he dulls the sharp claws he’s flashed at me means something, and I exhale.

“Drake would simply like the opportunity to see you again if you’re agreeable.”

“I can fucking speak for myself.”

“Perhaps.” Everett shrugs. “But not well.”

Once again, the less unnerving man makes me smile.

“Give us a chance?”

Drake looks at his companion. “Asshole.”

Everett’s grin is quick and easy. “Dick.”

Are they partners or foes?

“What do you say, Anne? Will you forgive Drake’s lack of tact and agree to give us a couple of hours of your time?”