Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Thane

She’s dangerous. So fucking dangerous.

Not because she’s armed or trained or immortal. But because, whether she walks

s into a room in a ten–dollar thrifted dress or a five–hundred-

dollar custom tailored one, she undoes me all the same.

Harley in black is a vision I will never forget. Her curves were made for silk, for moonlight, for my hands. How she looked at me when she saw me standing in her living room, dressed to the nines like she was impressed but would rather die than say it – lit something I thought was long dead inside me.

She’s been snarking me all night,

I’m in trouble.

Actually, I know I am.

and it’s a

adorable. Adorable, gah. If I weren’t centuries old and burdened with supernatural powers, I might think

a time.

She’s picking apart my carefully curated world of control, one sarcastic quip at a

“You do realize this entire meal could d pay someone’s rent for a month, right?” she says, gesturing vaguely at the table between us.

“I can pay your rent for a year,” I say easily.

“And yet, I’d still mock you for your ludicrous choices in cufflinks,” she replies with a quirked brow

“I’m not wearing any cufflinks,” I state.

“Exactly,” she says as she rolls her eyes, then continues to sip on her wine like she didn’t just call me out with surgical precision. She’s not impressed by the chandeliers, the name dropping sommeliers, or the imported wine. She’s not performing.

She’s just being herself. Harley. No one else.

And it’s driving me insane.

sees in her

But the best part – the part I’m trying and failing to hide is how my possessive side claws to the surface every time a man even glances direction. When the waiter lingered at our table earlier? My fingers twitched under the table with an irrational need to gauge his eyes from his head with a dessert spoon.h

I could hear her heartbeat spike and knew it wasn’t for him, but that didn’t matter.

She’s mine – even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Her laughter cuts through my internal brooding. She’s throwing another jab at me–something about my jawline being too sharp, and how she could hang ornaments on it for Christmas.

“Are you always like this on dates?” I ask bluntly, biting back a smirk.

She levels me with a stare before answering, “This isn’t a date. This is a hostage situation with pasta.”

And yet, she hasn’t left. She hasn’t once looked at her phone. And she hasn’t stopped smiling.

She’s enjoying herself.

And it’s then, in the middle of an overpriced restaurant under golden dim lighting, that I realize I would bankrupt kingdoms to keep her face.

Even if she calls me Lord Moneybags for the rest of my life.

that look on

Harley

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Not with flowers or poetry–no, not Thane Draeven. He uses quiet glances. It’s in the way he listens when I talk, like there’s nothing else in the world but the sound of my voice. It’s how his fingers tap along the rim of his wine glass like he’s keeping time with my heartbeat.

The waiter drops off the check, but of course, Thane just gives a subtle nod like he’s some tragic prince of darkness who doesn’t need to touch receipts. Because why wouldn’t he? He probably only tips in bearer bonds.

Until he’s there, draping his suit jacket over my shoulders like I haven’t spent the last two hours trying to knock him off his smug pedestal.

1. me.

He hums, his breath warm by my ear when he says softly, “I’ll risk it”

The car is already waiting at the curb with Griffin next to it like a sentinel.

“Trying to score brownie points?” I ask, sliding in.

The door shuts behind him, Griffin takes his seat in the front, the privacy screen slides into place, and then it happens.

arm stretched along the back of the seat, his thigh brushing mine as Mike pulls into traffic.

can feel his eyes on me. The weight of them. It’s magnetic and maddening.

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