Page 66 of Once A Villain

“So, it’s like that?” He laughs. “She already has a thing for me.”

“She doesn’t have a fuckingthingfor you,” I snarl. “And you better watch your mouth.”

The thought of him even implying Rory might want him makes my blood boil. I’m fucking sore from my missions, and that’s the only thing keeping his blood off my hands tonight. His laugh echoes through the room as he downs another swig of beer.

As the night wears on, I watch Rory throwback vodka like it’s water, her movements becoming sloppier with every drink. When she finally stumbles toward me, the sharp sting of alcohol on her breath hits me hard.

She collapses into my lap, warm and soft against me. Her flushed cheeks and full lips are almost too tempting.

“Axe,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around my neck and burying her face in my shoulder. Her body melts into mine, the scent of her hair hitting me.

“Little siren,” I murmur, grinning as my hands glide over her thighs.

She’s wasted, her head lolling against my shoulder, her soft frame fitting perfectly against the hard edges of mine.

“You smell good,” she breathes, her fingers trailing up to my chest, tracing the ink of my tattoos. “You’re so mean,” she whispers, her words slurring.

“Yeah, I am.” My lips brush her neck, feeling the quick throb of her pulse.

“Why?”

“Why?” I echo, my grip on her tightening.

She nods, her hair falling into her face, eyes glassy and lost. “Why are you mean?”

“Because it’s who I am.” I pull her closer, and her body instinctively seeks mine, even if she’s too drunk to realize it.

“You hurt me.”

“I know.”

“Do you really think I’m a bad girl?”

“The worst.” Her hardened nipples press against me. “But you’remybad girl.” She pulls on my hair, moaning into my neck, the sound going straight to my cock. Fuck. If she keeps this up, I’m going to lose control and fuck her right here. “You’re going to be so fucking mad when you sober up.”

“Probably,” she admits, her arms pulling me closer, her hips grinding against my hard-on. “But I still hate you.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

She kisses my neck and trails her tongue along my collarbone. I groan, and her hands reach under my shirt, dragging her fingers down my abs.

“Rory! It’s our song! Let’s go,” Kyla calls, trying to drag her away, but I tighten my grip on her waist, possessiveness flaring up inside me.

“Not yet.” I grab her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “No more alcohol. Understand? I want you sober when you come on my cock.”

“You’re so hot,” she whispers, her eyes dropping to my lips. She leans in, kissing me hard. As much as I enjoy her drunken compliance, I don’t want her wasted when I take her. I want her to remember every moment with the monster who owns her. I pull away, and she pouts. “No.”

“Yes.” I grab her hips, lifting her off my lap.

“Fine,” she huffs.

Kyla drunkenly pulls her toward the dance floor, and I’m left with an aching hard-on.

“No shit! The damn Reaper himself!” a familiar, gravelly voice cuts through the noise of the club. I glance up as Arsen muscles his way through the crowd.

Arseny Zakharov. Ex-FSB agent, now a Sovereign recruit instructor—with a reputation that rivals mine.

His dark hair’s cropped short, scars cutting deep into his jawline.

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