Page 18 of Queen of Diamonds

Were we mad?

My rock-hard cock (which she could one hundred percent feel) disagreed en-fucking-tirely.

And Zed’s grip was now closed on my shirt, clearly telling me the danger had passed, yet my tongue was still lodged halfway down her throat.

Disengage.

Dis. En. Gage.

Fuck.

Me.

We were such idiots.

When I managed, at last, to shut down my hindbrain and drag myself from the kiss, it was to find a pair of blown pupils through the golden mask.

Glade was catching her breath, eyes fixed on me, plush lips parted in shock.

I couldn’t look away. Well, not until I heard the click of a gun at my side and glanced to see Zed readying it.

Okay.

Life and death first. Giving the sweetest-tasting Omega on the whole planet the most mind-blowing orgasm of her whole life later.

No.

That wasn’t the plan.

We were supposed to drop her off with a scarecrow or something.

I blinked.

What?

“Are you… rutting, dude?” Kyan’s words were the equivalent of a bucket of ice water being dumped on my head. I glanced at him and saw genuine concern on his face.

Was I…?

Oh. Shit.

Shit shit shit.

Kyan rutted.

Not me.

But I could feel the boiling surge of hormones in my bloodstream, a warning that one might not really be far off.

“You”—Zed snarled, shoving the gun against my chest—“go ahead. I’ll deal with the goddamned Omega.”

The goddamned… what? That was our scent match?

I almost pounced at him.

Reel it in.

With difficulty, I shook it off, tearing the gun from his fist and—with more self-control than I knew I possessed—let go of her to take the stairs, violence like white hot lava streaking through my veins.

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