Page 26 of Graveyards & Greed

He gave me a devilish grin as he let go of my hand, dragging his fingers across my wrist and palm, hot lust in his eyes. “I’m happy to review the terms of our bet with you.”

I scooped up my jumper and slipped it back on without taking time to put on my bra. The idea of spending a week with Drakos in his loft sent a thrill of excitement and dread through me, and the thought of being under his control played havoc with my brain.

“I don’t need you to remind me of the terms, and I need to go back and finish Sunday poker.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “Are you thinking of reneging?”

My spine snapped straight. “No, I’m not reneging. But we never discussed the exact timing.”

“We shook on it, and I say the bet starts tonight.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. “I’m not unreasonable. You can pack for the week, then finish hosting, and we’ll go after that. We could be doing other things right now based on the terms of our agreement, so let’s not argue.” His lips tipped up in an annoying grin as he folded his arms across his bare chest. I struggled to keep my eyes on his face. He had no such qualms as his gaze traced down to my hard nipples, clearly visible through the white fabric.

I folded my arms across my breasts. “That's ironic, coming from a guy who argues for a living.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Maybe, but you should know better than to argue terms after the fact.”

The bastard had a point, and the weight of inevitability settled in my stomach. There was no getting out of this bet—my pride wouldn't allow it.

“Fine. The sooner we start, the sooner it’s done.”

“I agree,” he drawled as annoyance and something darker slid through his eyes. “A word of advice, though. Don’t antagonize the devil when he has you in his clutches.”

As I gathered my discarded clothing, I glared at him. “I’m not trying to change the terms of our bet. But I need you to know that if you try to humiliate or hurt me—or turn this week into a shitshow—we’re over. As lovers, frenemies, acquaintances, or whatever this is between us.” I hated the vulnerability that had crept into my voice.

He slid into his shirt, buttoned it, and slipped his watch and belt on as he listened. When we finished dressing, he stepped over to straighten my collar and trailed his hands down my shoulders. “You can trust me. Let’s grab what you’ll need for the week.”

He sounded so logical and reasonable as we stood there discussing the terms of us spending the week living together and fucking. I turned and strode to my bedroom, putting some space between us. When he followed me down the hall, I realized I should have told Drakos to wait in the living room, but it was too late now. He looked around curiously.

My bedroom was my sanctuary, and I wondered what he thought of it. I’d painted the room a soothing sage green, then added plants and succulents here and there. A few black and white photographs of old Las Vegas, a black crow statue, and a spattering of other trinkets gave the space a whimsical feel. The antique embalmer he’d given me sat on my nightstand, and my bed was made up of fluffy white linens and a gauzy canopy.

“I like your bedroom, it feels like you.”

His compliment warmed me, but I mentally fought against his charm. I pulled a large bag out from under my bed, then headed to my closet, grabbing a few T-shirts and leggings, a couple of hoodies, and shoes.

He followed me and looked over my shoulder. “Bring some dressy clothing. I want to take you out on the Strip, and maybe to a show.”

“I’m not going—” He carefully turned me around and held up a finger, waiting until I clamped my mouth shut.

“As per our agreement, I could tell you to strip, lean over your bed, and spread your gorgeous legs so I can give you a thorough fucking right here and now. You areminefor the next seven days. You’ll live in my loft and be attached to my hip when we’re not working. And we’ll be sleepingandfucking in my bed, the shower, my vehicle, over my desk—wherever we want. So unless you plan to welch on our bet, you’llstop arguing.”

My eyes went squinty, and I turned back to my closet, grabbing a black dress, a red jumper, and more shoes. Drakos didn’t gloat as I finished packing, but the bastard probably wanted to. After throwing in bras, panties, and toiletries into another backpack, I straightened. “I’m ready. You can take off since I need my car to drive back here for work tomorrow. I’ll meet you at your loft when I get done.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ll drive tonight and drop you off tomorrow morning on my way to work.”

Annoyance and anger clogged my throat, but I counted to ten and breathed in and out through my nose a few times—probably looking like an angry bull—but I didn’t care. When I thought I could speak without yelling, I glared at him.

“I understand part of the bet was that I would do what you say and not argue. But I am genuinely asking why I can’t have my own car.” He picked up my backpack, grabbed my bag, and herded me toward the door.

“I want to suck the marrow out of every single second with you this week, and part of that includes driving to and from work together. Tomorrow you can get your car.”

Not trusting myself to speak without arguing, I simply nodded and walked out of the apartment into the crisp evening air, my mind a tangled mess. I could feel Drakos's presence behind me, a magnetic force pulling at my own. The thought of spending an entire week with him both thrilled and frightened me, and I caught myself covertly glancing at him. It was maddening how attractive I found his possessive nature and cynical confidence.

He tossed my bags into the trunk of his black Range Rover, then I stalked back into the funeral home to help clean up. Roman and Luna were gone by then, and a half hour later I walked back out. He silently opened the passenger door for me. But I hesitated before getting in, caught in a moment of internal conflict. Part of me wanted to flee back to the safety of the mortuary and my apartment, or maybe even lock myself in the morgue refrigerator and call it a night. Yet… another reckless, curious part urged me to see what the week would bring.

“Having regrets?” Drakos asked, his voice low and smooth as he held the passenger door.

“About so many things,” I admitted quietly, my gaze flickering to his. “But mostly about losing my sanity and making that bet.”

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