Page 133 of Illusory

He paused for a brief second and when I didn’t try to stop him, he wiped out the remaining gap between us and sealed my mouth in a kiss that knocked the air right out of my lungs.

I staggered back against Dominic, but before I could right myself, Dominic’s hands shot up to my waist to steady me, using his hold on me to draw me back against his chest.

God, did it feelgood. Having them both touching me the way they were, at the same time, it was—my eyes popped openas a surge of panic slammed into me.

What the hell was I doing?

“Stop. Stop it!” I said against Trace’s soft,superplush lips and then shoved him back before scrambling off the sofa to catch my breath. Away from them and their corrupting ways.

“What’s wrong?” asked Trace, as though he couldn’t fathom the answer.

“What’s wrong?” I repeated, half screeching, half panting. The heat from his mouth-scorching kiss was instantly replaced with fiery anger. “You can’t just…I’m not just going to—” I cut myself off and tried to gather my bearings enough to produce a coherent sentence. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” I snapped instead, unable to come up with anything better to say.

“You kissed me back,” he said, his dimples making a minor appearance as he licked my taste off his bottom lip.

“That’s not…that doesn’t…that issonot the point! You can’t do that! You can’t just go around kissing people whenever you feel like it.”

“I wasn’t kissing people. I kissedyou.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“No, it’s not, Jemma. You’re my soulmate.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to do whatever you want!” I shot back, completely ignoring the part about how I hadn’t made a single attempt to stop him.

“Tell me, angel,” said Dominic as he shifted on the couch and crossed his leg over his knee. “Are you mad at him for kissing you, or are you mad because you were enjoying it?”

I bristled, wanting so badly to deny his words—to throw them right back in his face—but I already knew they had both felt the truth through our bond when Trace was kissing me.

“That’s not the point,” I said again, less forcefully. They weren’t playing fair, and I wasn’t equipped or armoredenough to deal with this. Not tonight anyway. “Just forget it. I…I’m going to bed,” I said and then turned on my heel, ready to make a literal run from the two of them and the feelings I had that refused to stay buried.

Dominic appeared before me, blocking my exit with that same dangerous smile he always sported when he was up to no good. “Aren’t you forgetting something, angel?”

My body swayed toward him, despite my best efforts. “Um…goodnight?”

“No.” His smile deepened as he leaned his arm up against the doorway. “Romeo needs to feed.”

43. TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME

Every part of my working brain knew this was a terrible idea. I barely had any control over myself as it was, and when the two of them were working together—something they’d been doing far too often lately—I really didn’t stand a chance against either of them.

But what choice did I have? Trace was newly Turned, and he needed to stay on a strict regimen in order to keep his bloodlust at bay. The bloodlust thatIcursed him to.

Only it wasn’t really his lust formy bloodthat had me worried tonight.

“Fine. Let’s just get it over with.” My gaze drifted to Trace. He was still sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as his wanton eyes drank me in like I was the only thing he wanted in the entire world.

And just like that, the crackling heat under my skin was back.

“Should we maybe…just use a glass this time?” I asked anxiously, knowing that things were already intense enough without addingthatto the mix.

“You know the rules, angel.” Dominic winked at me as he picked up my hand and towed me back to the spot on the sofa beside Trace. “Straight from the vein or it won’t have the same impact.”

I bit down on my lip that was still swollen from the sizzling kiss just moments ago and met Trace’s gaze. His pupils were already devouring the blue of his eyes, though I wasn’t sure which part of me he was hungering for then.

“You’re nervous,” stated Trace, probably sensing myhesitation through our bond. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he offered, the pain from my possible rejection already etching itself onto his face.

But my hesitation had nothing to do withnotwanting to do this and everything to do with fearing how far it would go, and my inability to stop myself when it inevitably did.

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