CHAPTER 2

"He's a liability, Teo," Alex growled.

The door to the Velvet Theater Room clicked shut, cutting off Victor’s exit. Alex paced the narrow space between the stage and the first row of seats. "He’s gorgeous, sure. Lethal eyes, great build. He’d turn every head in the Silver Crest Country Club. But he’s a dancer, Teo. A club boy. You really think a guy who grinds for tips is going to help us negotiate a border treaty with the Northern Alphas?"

Teo leaned back, his eyes still fixed on the door where 'VX' had disappeared. "You’re thinking with your ego, not your gut. Did you see the way he moved? That wasn't just a routine. That was a hunt. He didn't even look at us until he wanted to own us."

"He speaks in fragments and looks like he’s never seen a book in his life," Alex countered. "We just passed on a pre-med student with a fated-mate lineage. We let a girl who speaks four languages walk out that door. And you want to bring him to the Vargas Grand Casino? He’s good for one thing, brother. Fucking."

Alex turned away, his jaw tight. Every inch of Victor Cruz screamed trouble. The plush lips, the way his skin had felt like warm silk against Alex’s thighs during that brazen lap dance. Alex had felt his own wolf stirring, clawing at the surface, ready to claim the dancer right there on the velvet couch. The jealousy that had ripped through him when Victor grabbed Teo’s hand was a physical weight.

"He's dangerous," Alex muttered. "A match in a powder keg."

"He's the only one who didn't smell like fear," Teo said, standing up. "Every other candidate was desperate to please us. Victor? He wanted to provoke us. I like being provoked."

Alex checked the tablet. "He works at Club Venom. That was Caruso’s territory before we tore his pack apart. The kid could be a spy. A plant."

"Then we keep him close," Teo shrugged. "I want him, Alex. For the full year contract."

Alex felt the pause stretch. They had shared everything since the Vargas Alpha adopted them twenty-two years ago. Penthouses, businesses, blood, and lovers. It was the bond that kept the Vargas twins at the top of the food chain.

"You want him that bad?" Alex asked.

Teo’s expression went stone-cold. "I'm not sharing this one."

Alex stiffened. "That's new."

"He speaks to me," Teo said, heading for the door. "Call it an instinct."

"You mean his mouth speaks to you," Alex muttered, but he followed. He knew that look. Teo wouldn't budge. "Fine. He’s yours. Just don't come crying to me when he slits your throat in your sleep."

Teo didn't answer. He threw open the dressing room door and found Victor waiting for him. He grabbed the dancer's hand, his grip possessive. "You’re coming to the loft with us."

The Black Jaguar XF sped toward the Las Vegas Penthouse Loft.

"You decided to play chauffeur today?" I asked, glancing at the rearview mirror.

Teo ignored me. He had Victor sitting on his lap in the backseat, his large hand splayed over the dancer’s thigh. Victor was still in that ridiculous, shredded stage outfit. It was too small, straining against his chest, every muscle highlighted by the passing streetlights.

"Did he forget his suitcase?" I snapped.

"He's got what he needs," Teo murmured, his thumb stroking Victor's hip.

Victor met my eyes in the mirror. He went silent. The car filled with the scent of arousal and unspoken threats. I turned up the radio to drown out the sound of Victor’s hitching breath.

When we hit the penthouse, the doors hummed open to a sea of white marble and gold leaf. It was a palace for a god with no taste.

"Nice place," Victor said. He didn't gawk. He scanned the room like he was looking for the exits.

"Rico hates it," Teo said, tossing his keys on a glass table. "Says it’s tacky. Says the people here are tacky too."

"Everything in this city is trash," I said, looking right at Victor. "The scenery and the residents."

The insult hung in the air. Victor didn't flinch, but his eyes darkened. Teo’s phone buzzed—Santiago’s name flashed on the screen. He groaned and stepped onto the terrace to take the call.

I was alone with the dancer. He crossed his arms, suddenly looking smaller in the massive, gaudy living room.

"You have a nice view," Victor said.

"You said that."

"Right."

The silence turned heavy. He looked out of his depth, a stray wolf in a gilded cage. I wanted him to realize it. I wanted him to run.

Teo walked back in, his face tight. "Trouble at Club Venom. A security breach."

"Technical or a fight?" I asked.

"Technical. I have to go." Teo looked at Victor, then at me. "Make him feel at home, Alex."

"I'm not going to bury him in the desert, Teo. Relax."

Teo kissed Victor hard—a claim, a mark—then disappeared. I turned to Victor. "Guess I'm the tour guide."

"I can find my own way."

"You can't. There are rooms you don't enter."

I led him down the hallway, pointing out the kitchen and the guest suites. "That’s Teo’s room. This one is yours."

I opened the door to a suite that overlooked the Strip. He walked in, his boots silent on the plush carpet.

"What about those doors?" Victor asked, pointing to the two sets of double doors at either end of the room.

"Connecting suites," I said. "That one leads to Teo. This one," I pointed to the door on the right, "leads to my room. It stays locked. It is off-limits. If I find you in my space, you're dead. Clear?"

"Clear as day," Victor said.

"Good. Don't make me prove it."