Page 39 of Dark Prince

What.

The.

Fuck.

“Oh, I need to get my last name changed asap!” I shout, clapping my hands. “That was amazing! Does it always work?”

“Mostly, there are still some cops that don’t like us and will take us in.”

“Like the one who arrested you?”

“Exactly.” he turns to look at me, “get your name changed?” He asks.

“Uh, yeah. You’re basically my husband right?” Now I feel awkward, was that the wrong thing to say? Fuck, I totally just fucked that all up didn’t I?

“Oh little deer, you have no idea.” He laughs, shifting the car into gear and peels out, jerking me as we speed back down the highway.

I’m not sure what he means by that exactly, what the fuck ever, I’m out of the house and I finally feel alive again. Clayton is dead, Axel seems like he really wants to protect me from whatever he thinks is coming, and I’m still me.

“Where are we going?” I ask, turning my head to look at him as I lean back in the seat.

“Mom gave me a name, someone hired a hit and we need to gather some information from the target before we take him out.”

“Hitmen, I like it.” A sigh escapes me as I relax against the seat, watching his jaw twitch. I point two fingers at the windshield. “Pew-pew.”

“No pew-pew.” A laugh slips out of him and he recovers quickly, clearing his throat.

“What a shame.”

“It’s more slice and dice.” Which perks me right up, because that’s my specialty. “I was told to let you play while I ask questions.”

“Do you always do what mommy says?” I ask, feeling like an asshole immediately for saying it like that, but it’s too late now.Roll with it Cordelia, you’re a badass, remember. Just because he gives you literal mind numbing orgasms doesn’t mean you’re soft. I am a strong independent woman, who loves what he does with his hands and dick. Yeah, that works.

“You remember who my mother is right?” He asks, snapping me out of my own personal conversation. Someone should really look into getting me a therapist, I swear. Oh well, not my problem.

“Yes, she’s very hard to forget. She told me I could do whatever I wanted to you as if you were tied to a chair.” What kind of parent does that? A scary one, that’s who. Maybe she needs a therapist. Not me. He laughs to himself, and I’m not sure why, but when he pulls off the highway onto a side road, I perk up again. “Are we close?” I ask, feeling giddy.

“No, I took this exit for no reason other than to have you ask if we we’re close.” He says in a tone that I don’t find amusing. Well, mister sassy pants is about to be sorry he took this kind of tone with me.

---