Page 18 of Beastly Armory

“Get the fuck out here or I shoot.”

There’s no movement. Aiming for the ceiling above the door, I waste a bullet as the plaster crumbles around us. Immediately, the face disappears, replaced with quick shuffling sounds. A shadow of a figure slowly emerges with arms up in a sign of surrender.

My gaze wanders up black leather pants and a tight black tank top, taking in the curvy figure of a woman topped with a tall mohawk of black hair.

“Livia?”

Six

LIVIA

“Oh, hey, Max.” It’s like any other Friday, the way my voice rings out so casually. “What are you doing here?”

He had lowered his gun from my head, but raises it again. “Cute. What areyoudoing here?”

“I thought I’d get my car washed, but this place has terrible customer service. No one’s waited on me forhours.” Slowly, I let my hands fall to my sides. “My arms are getting tired. Do you mind lowering your gun?” Blinking my lashes heavily, I lift a corner of my lips.

I can’t see him with the flashlight boring in my face, but the silhouette of his body stiffens behind his weapon. “Yeah, I do mind. What the fuck are you doing here? I’ll give you one more chance to answer before I?—”

“Before you what?Shootme?” There’s no way my lion will kill me. My finger tingles with the feel of the metal charm I rubbed just before I emerged from behind the door.

He sighs. “Livia. Please don’t make me.”

“I was looking for the armory.” May as well tell him. “And since you’re here, I’m assuming I was right. Oneishere.”

As he lowers his gun and flashlight, my eyes quickly adjust to the darkness, but spots flare wherever I look behind my lids. His face holds a worried expression, like he has lived days in just a moment.

Max opens his mouth, but before he can speak, I interrupt. “What’s wrong?”

A muffled moan wafts down the narrow hallway coming from the office area. Our eyebrows raise at each other, and we hurry to the sound. One of his men has crumpled on a bench with a dark stain seeping through his white T-shirt near his right shoulder.

“Fuck,” I say, taking him in.

“Fuck! Livia Von Dovish?” The man tries to sit up but doesn’t have the strength, but he reaches for his gun.

“Oh, you’re not going to do a damn thing. Just lay back down, champ.”

Max’s forehead crinkles as he squats next to his tank, helping him pull off his shirt as I grab my new phone. “Marianna, I need you. I’ll ping my location.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Max stands and strides toward me in two steps, reaching for my phone, but I hold it behind my back.

“I’m saving your friend here.”

His nostrils flare as he walks my body back until I hit the wall with a thud. Max doesn’t stop moving and thrusts his palms on either side of my head, one stillclutching his gun. “Give me your fucking phone.” The growl of his voice causes my nipples to harden.

Slipping it into my back pocket, I jut out my bottom lip. “No.” I try not to look into his eyes, but his head leans in until there’s barely room to breathe without inhaling him. The smell of his sweat fills my nose, and my thighs clench together.

“Livy… Little fox…” He warns me with his deep bass crackling next to my ear. His head lowers, his lips hovering close to mine almost involuntarily. I turn my face, and his eyes widen as if no one has ever pulled away from him. Smoothly, he recovers by dipping his nose to meet my exposed neck. He slowly sniffs up the course of my artery, the tiny inhales tickling my skin. My pulse pounds until I’m worried he’ll see it. The warmth of his lips taps on the corner of my jaw before he sucks with barely enough pressure to lift my skin between them. He straightens up to gaze into my eyes.

My hands move to his hips to push him back or pull him closer. I’m not sure which. I decide to push, but realize he has already pocketed my phone in his lowered arm. Flashing it in his hand, he smirks. He spins toward his friend, dropping to a squat beside him, putting pressure on the wound.

“Fucker. That’s mine.” Shoving off the wall, my body buzzes from the spell he just put on me.

“You’ll get it back once we’re safe.” Glancing at it once more, he slides it into his pocket. “You got a tracer on it?”

“Yes. You know I would. Not that it matters. Myspies know where I am and why I’m here. What they don’t know is thatyouare here with me.” I shake my head. “Stop, you’re doing that wrong.” I slap his hand out of the way, grab the T-shirt from his friend, and put pressure on his wound the proper way. “Take off your shirt and put it under his head. Poor guy is dying here and you’re making him lay on a metal bench.”

“I’m not dying.”