A/N: Sorry for the wait, I've just been so busy with lab. On we go. Jealous Tate out to play!

Tongue On The Blade

They ended up staying for a few more drinks, though Travis cut Gabe off when he got to the point of raucously yelling at the top of his lungs at the waitress for more beer. As it got later, more and more people flooded onto the dance floor, sweaty bodies writhing and grinding, and he could see more than a few couples getting hot and heavy in the frenzy of deep, pulsing bass and suggestive lyrics, hands wandering, tongues sloppily entwining. He was never one much for dancing, but he couldn't deny the enticing appeal of it – a mass of potential energy, pregnant with lusty possibilities, hinting at things to come later, teasing at what things could be.

Violet had again returned to steadfastly ignoring him after her little smirk at his obvious discomfort at her heated performance, and in stark contrast to Gabe's almost comatose state of drunkenness, she was sober, very alert, eyes hungrily taking in the dance floor.

"Hey, guys, I'm going to go get another drink from the bar. Anyone interested?"

Travis looked at her apologetically before glancing over at Gabe, who was slumped forward on the table.

"I think we're good over here, Vi. Gabe probably shouldn't drink for a week after this."

But before Tate could say he would happily accompany her, she had darted up from their table and was weaving her way through the crowd.

He watched her wedge her way to the counter, waving her hands at the bartender to get his attention, and pretty soon she was sipping on something neon green that looked pretty potent. He was about to get up to follow her when he saw a guy – mid-twenties, surfer blond, preppy clothes complete with pastel shorts with some type of marine creature sewn on them – slide up alongside her and start a conversation. And instead of shooting him down like he expected her to – he knew her enough to know that that guy was not her type – she flipped her hair and gave him a soft smile before saying something that made him laugh.

What?

Tate had to quickly squash the raging wave of jealousy that threatened to overwhelm his system. He had only barely managed to do that when he saw him sling his arm around her waist, and the immediate fantasies of eviscerating him came spewing forth, and he dug his fingernails deep into his thighs to stop himself from marching over there and beating him to a ragged mess of flesh.

He is the only one who's allowed to touch her like that.

She is his.

Thankfully Travis interrupted his murderous thoughts with a tap to the shoulder.

"Sorry to be a party pooper, Tate, but I think we should go home. Gabe isn't looking so hot."

Tate looked at Gabe, now soundly passed out on the table with a line of drool coming out of his mouth, surrounded by at least ten empty beer bottles, and he couldn't help wrinkling his nose in disgust before nodding his head at Travis.

"Okay, you're right. Get him to the car if you can. I'll get Violet."

He couldn't wait to cut in and steal her away from that former frat boy.

He pushed his way through the dance floor to get to the bar, and he arrived just as they sharing a laugh over a joke she had just told. When she saw him, her eyes narrowed and her stance stiffened, but at this point he was so angry at the guy for still touching her that he couldn't give a fuck about being polite. He walked around her back, barely resisting the urge to rip that guy's arm off her. He placed his hand on the bar right next to where hers was still clutching her drink, and leaned in slightly, all the while giving an intense death glare to the guy who dared to encroach on what was his.

"Vi, we have to go. Gabe is sick."

He didn't miss the guy's eyebrow raise at his use of a nickname, which he knew would imply that his relationship with her was close. He relished the recognition in his eyes that he had just trespassed some boundaries that he really shouldn't have. Tate could hide his dark side pretty well most of the time, but he would showcase it when he needed to, and from the look of fear on this guy's face, he knew he could sense just how dangerous he really was. He withdrew his arm from her waist, and with a quickly muttered goodbye, slunk off into the thumping crowd.

As soon as he was out of sight, Violet whirled around to face him, her words filled with anger.

"And what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Getting you since we're leaving."

"No, you were scaring him away deliberately."

"That was just a bonus."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes before turning back to her drink.

"God, I can't believe you."

She looked around to see the other men at the bar eying her warily, and sighed in exasperation before taking a long swig of her drink.

"Can you beat it? You're scaring away all the prey."

What did she just say?

"Prey?"

"Yeah, all the cute guys who could be buying me drinks right now. And make no mistake, they would be, if you'd stop staring daggers at them and leave."

"No can do, princess."

Plus it is rather fun seeing them so frightened of him.

"You always have to spoil my fun."

"Sorry."

"Liar."

"You caught me."

She huffed indignantly before snatching her glass off the counter and finishing it. Tate looked back at their table to find it empty. Travis must have gotten Gabe on his feet at least, but who knows how long it would take them to weave their way through this crowd and get out to the car. He figured he would have at least ten more minutes with Violet, if Gabe's complete lack of motor control was any indication.

Ten minutes alone with Violet.

He couldn't help grinning as a daring idea came to him. He quickly enveloped her hand with his, and pulled her close, giving her no time to push him away or slap him, as he knew she would try to do.

"Dance with me."

He could see the surprise in her eyes – she wasn't expecting that he would be so bold again, despite their heated encounter last night – but before it was tempered by anger, he thought he may have seen something else.

Intrigue? Well, yes, he knew he intrigued her, and that she hated that he intrigued her, but that wasn't it, or at least not all of it. There was something deeper, darker, something that, in a way he couldn't describe, seemed to resonate with the atmosphere of the club, the beat of the music, the way that the dancers molded themselves together on the dance floor. As he caught a glance of some young couple heavily making out, he suddenly knew what it was – it was temptation, and her fear that she wouldn't be able to resist it this time around.

"Are you kidding?! No way. I bet you're a terrible dancer."

As he had admitted to himself earlier, he wasn't one much for it, but he was for anything with Violet, and the thought of them being that close together again, his arms around her hips, her face close enough to his to kiss if he wanted, and he wanted, was dangerously intoxicating.

"No way to know unless you actually dance with me."

"I don't want to dance with you."

She glanced over at the floor, now filled with couples definitely getting handsy, some already pushing past second base, and he wouldn't have been surprised to find some people discreetly sliding into third.

"The very idea is ridiculous."

"Why is it? You didn't seem to mind me being that close to you last night."

He heard her sharp intake of breath and she let a curtain of hair fall across her face. He reached to brush it behind her ear, but she slapped his hand away before turning to look at him earnestly.

"That was a mistake."

Even though she faced him when she said it, he didn't miss the slight waver in her voice.

"Was it?"

"Yes."

Who are you trying to convince, Violet?

"Okay, then, prove it to me."

She shot him a surprised look.

"What?"

"Prove that last night was a mistake. Dance with me."

He could almost see the battle raging across her face – her stubborn side, not willing to give him an inch or any piece of ammunition, ready to charge into his challenge and wipe that smug, knowing smirk off his face, versus her practical and rational side, not willing to gamble and run the very real risk of losing because she couldn't deny anymore that she may lose, reluctant to give him an opening so he could rip off her armor and expose her closely guarded secrets, and maybe have to face the worst thing of all – that she would give them up to him eagerly, would want to give them up to him so willingly. However, he knew that if she let her practical side win, while she knew it would be the safer option, it would give the impression that she was weak, that she didn't trust herself around him and wouldn't take the chance, and he was willing to bet that she would hate that even more than fighting and losing. For her, she would rather bluff and lose than play it safe, especially when she had something to prove, and he knew she was desperate to prove to him, but more importantly to herself, that he didn't affect her.

So he couldn't help smiling when he heard her answer.

"Okay."

A/N: Reviews are loved!