“Would the beautiful lady honor me with a dance?”
Rafael’s smile tightens almost imperceptibly.
Knox doesn’t wait for my answer—he’s already guiding me toward the dance floor, his hand firm on my lower back.
“You know,” Rafael calls after us, “one of these days she might actually choose the rescue.”
Knox doesn’t respond. Doesn’t look back. Just pulls me closer as the jazz band slides into something slow and sultry.
We move together in the center of the dance floor, his hand on the small of my back, my body pressed against his.
It’s intimate in a way our f*****g somehow isn’t. Like being held instead of taken. Like connection instead of combat.
I notice how natural he looks in this room. How the other alphas watch him with barely concealed envy.
How power radiates from him without e
