Page 58 of Primal

“What the fuck are you talking about, Fiora?”

I begin to approach her, but she holds out the empty wine glass like it’s some kind of shield keeping her safe.

“What difference does it make who I marry? You or some family in New York, it’s all the same. I’m only as good as my Godwin name. And money! I wasted it all on school and work and bullshit when I could have just…” Fiora pauses long enough to stare at me, a few tears lining her eyes. “Died. I should have died.”

“What?”

“I blew Mason off, you know,” she says quietly before yelling, “I blew him off!” She accidentally throws the empty wine glass onto the couch when she flings her hands up. “We had those tickets for a long time. He bought them early so he could get it on our ‘busy schedules’. I was supposed to be at that game with Mason, but I ran off to go hide from everyone. Even him. I didn’t even bother to cancel. If I had, maybe he would have, too, but now my brother is fucking dead.”

“And you’re not.” I step closer. She doesn’t back up and merely stares at me with red-lined eyes. “Being here in Heathens Hollow saved your damn life.”

“And what a life it is. Only good enough for being a pawn and nothing else. And I won’t even be that once my father hears about what happened at Maxwells.” I don’t have time to ask herwhat the hell she means before she laughs bitterly and points at me. “Sorry you’re getting such a useless slut of a wife.”

God, she’s a fucking irrational drunk. Before she can react, I grab her wrist and jerk her closer. She crashes into my chest and clings to my dress shirt to keep herself upright. When Fiora lifts her head to yell at me, I bend down and press my lips to hers in a searing kiss. I tangle a hand in the back of her messy bun as I ravish her mouth. She responds instantly, moving her tongue against mine, clinging to my shirt.

When I pull back, she’s breathless and staring up at me like I’m either her savior or her demon.

“Don’t you ever say that shit about my woman again,” I growl and tighten my grip on her hair. Her gasp makes my blood sing. “Or I’ll punish you for it.”

“Go on then,” she breathes. “Do it.”

I smirk. That’s the only permission I need.

Chapter 31

Fiora

Braken’s body is so heavy on mine I fear he might break me in two.

He pins me against the top of a side table with his entire weight so I can’t move. Not like I would. His kiss has me in chains, the searing heat from his mouth and tongue against mine leaving me dizzy. I wrap my legs around his hips to keep him close, fingernails digging into the back of his neck. His hard cock presses against my pulsing core, and he only pulls back for a gulp of breath before claiming my mouth as his again.

I should stop him since I’m drunk and a hot mess, but my mind is hazy. I want him so fucking bad. Yesterday wasn’t enough. I don’t give a shit about morals, contracts, or ex-flings. All I want is Braken’s cock in me, pounding away all the jumbled thoughts in my mind.

His hand jerks on my bun, forcing up my chin and exposing my throat. His wet mouth creates a slick trail down my throat, sucking and licking until my skin is marked. I shiver when he forces my legs apart until they burn, his hips moving against mine for delicious and oh-so-needed friction.

Braken sucks on my collarbone, no doubt leaving signs of his claim, and my moan fills the room.

Maybe I should thank my father after all, since he?—

Fuck, my father.

The thought zaps me back into reality, and I push Braken away as best I can with too many glasses of wine flowing in my system.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” he growls, about to dive into my neck again.

“Stop,” I command, and to his credit, he does. He looks pissed as hell and ready to shoot me for even daring to say it, but he stays completely still.

I take the moment to catch my breath before I sigh out, “We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk,” Braken mutters, making sure to roll his hard cock into me for emphasis. “We have better things to do.”

It’s almost enough to throw me off, but I shake my head. This is too important.

“I need to tell you what happened at lunch.”

Braken frowns so hard it wrinkles his entire face, but he takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Speak.”

I do. Everything comes tumbling out so quickly that half my sentences don’t even make sense. I mention Marco, his demands to meet at Maxwells, and how my father’s men saw it all. I throw an apology in there for meeting Marco in the first place, though I’m not sure why. Braken never told me I couldn’t meet my old friend, and yet, under his intense stare, I feel like it is the worst mistake I could have ever made.

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