I know this is the first time she's seen a place that isn't home. Berlin is so different from the small town where Luna grew up. I wish we had time to look around. I could show her some cool places and open her eyes to this new world she's being thrust into. But that isn't my job.
"Just let me know if you need anything at all. I'll leave my card by the door."
"Thank you," I say, showing the disappointed manager out.
As soon as the door clicks shut, Luna throws her coat over the nearest couch. "So what do people eat in this place?" she asks, flopping into a bottle-green velvet armchair.
"You ever tried a German sausage?" Jax asks.
"Not that I know of." Luna winks, and Jax snorts.
"Well, now's the time," he says.
Goodness knows what room service thinks of our order: eight German sausage hotdogs and eight pints of German beer. While we're waiting, the porter appears with our luggage, and Luna disappears into her room.
I'm staying with Mo and Jax, Asher and Ben are together, and Hudson and Elijah will take the last room. We remove our jackets, loosen our ties, and unbutton our shirts. By the time the food arrives, Luna has reappeared, dressed in a Snoopy shirt and shorts set with her long brown hair hanging loose around her shoulders.
I know I'm not the only one who stares for a little too long. We've been protecting Luna for a few weeks but never like this.
It's like she peeled away the armor she wears for the world and revealed the person she really is underneath. Dressed like this she seems cute and soft, vulnerable even. Her green eyes meet mine, and I can feel the heat of blood across my cheeks. She caught me staring. Big mistake.
"Connor, get over here," Jax says, as a server arriving with our food pushes a huge cart into the room. Behind him, two other servers are carrying heavy trays of drinks. Everything is set up on the huge walnut dining table, plates covered by silver cloches placed at each setting.
We all take seats, leaving space for Luna at the head of the table. I take the other end, so we're facing each other like husband and wife in a British palace, about to tuck into a banquet. The whole setup seems very upscale until we lift the cloches and reveal our ridiculous-looking hot dogs. Luna leans over, inhaling the scent of cured meat.
"It smells good," she says, picking it up tentatively. We all watch as she lifts the hot dog to her lips, wrapping them around the thick sausage. My dick stirs between my legs like a creature waking from a long sleep. Damn, Luna has a pretty mouth. I know it would feel hot and smooth wrapped around my cock.
When she bites, Jax clears his throat. Our eyes meet, and he winks, letting me know that I'm not the only pervert sitting at this expensive walnut dining table.
"Mmmm…" she moans, chewing slowly and rolling her eyes.
Mo has taken a bite of his vegetarian hotdog, nodding his head in appreciation. The rest of us follow, mostly out of hunger, but I'm pretty sure that all the men at this table are having impure thoughts about Luna right now and are hunting for distraction.
She rests the hotdog on her plate and takes a long drink of the cold German beer. She's only just legal back home, but in Germany, the legal drinking age is much lower. "Is this the kind of meal you treat your girlfriends to?" she asks. There's a glint in her pretty eyes and, as she dabs her lips, I catch a hint of a smile that she seems to want to conceal.
"Yep," Jax says. "If I girl can tackle a hotdog or a burger, she's my kind of girl."
"No one likes a salad eater," Hudson says. "Always picking at leaves and looking hungrily at my real food."
"A woman should eat," Mo murmurs. "She needs to be strong to make a family."
"Women aren't just breeding machines," Luna says.
"That isn't what I meant." Mo glances at me as though he's seeking permission to talk openly. I give a nod, trusting that he'll keep things appropriate. "What I meant is that it's important that a woman looks after herself so that life doesn't take too much from her. It's the same as for men. If we don't eat enough and we don't train, our muscles waste away."
"Well, that is something we definitely don't want. I'm trusting all those big, bulging muscles to keep me in one piece," she says, her eyes drifting over the bodies of all the men at the table. There isn't a man among us that hasn't trained long and hard for our physiques. It's not just about appearance. In our roles, we have to be fit and strong enough to take on anyone who might pose a threat. We've all seen combat in one form or another. It's left its mark on more than one of us, but that doesn't mean we've lost our power, more that we've learned our limitations.