Page 50 of Graveyards & Greed

The man could get under my skin and raise my ire like no one else. He stood there in one of his suits that made him look like a wet dream, with his smirky little smile, and those piercing eyes. I wasn't sure if it was the cold or the shock that caused a shiver to run through me.

“Jesus H Christ, what are you doing out here, lurking around like some creepy kidnapper?” I shot back, trying to ignore the frantic pounding in my chest.

He stepped closer, his scent wrapping around me like a vice. “We need to talk.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“Privately.“ His tone brokered no argument. “When we’re done eating here, you and I are going to talk. About OutKast, your safety,” he leaned in and bit my ear, “And about us. Unless you’re too scared and want to keep acting like a child.”

His taunts weren’t going to work this time. I stepped back and crossed my arms to put a barrier between us. “I’m not scared, asshole, but I’m also not a masochist.Yourpast keeps coming back to hauntme.”

He tilted his head. “What are you talking about?”

The door opened, and Luna gazed out at us as we squared off on her doorstep.

“Drakos, what a surprise. An unpleasant one judging by the scowl on Sylvie’s face.”

Roman walked up behind her, and she glanced back at him. “I see you meddled, which I find highly hypocritical since you recently punished me—very painfully—fornotleaving well enough alone. I’ll have to take that carving knife to your expensive shoes after all.”

He smirked and reached out to absently finger the lock on her neck. “In the end, I believe you thoroughly enjoyed your punishment. Especially when you begged me to—”

She reached up and covered his mouth, her cheeks flushing red. “Behave, husband. Come in, both of you. Roman grilled pork chops and asparagus. You can argue while we eat so I can eavesdrop.”

I glanced at Drakos and loosened my shoulders. “We’re not arguing, and there’s nothing going on. It sounds delicious, and what can I help with?” I held up the bottle of wine I’d brought.

We ate in painful politeness for the next half hour, and Drakos actually took off his jacket and tie. I studied him out of the corner of my eye as I picked at my food. He’d rolled up his sleeves, and his tanned, sinewy forearms made my traitorous mouth water. Roman watched us, his lips quirking as if the tension amused him. Luna's green eyes flitted back and forth between us, and I knew a dozen questions bounced around in her head.

Drakos cut off a piece of meat and chewed. “The chicken is delicious.”

“It’s a pork chop,” I muttered.

“My mistake. I must have confused it with you.”

I set my glass down with a sigh and raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re calling me a chicken now?”

“Bock. Bock, bock, bock,” he clucked softly under his breath.

Luna coughed awkwardly, and I knew the bitch was trying to cover a laugh. Roman turned to Drakos and grinned, the wicked scar on his neck stretching with the movement. The undercurrents swirling around the table didn’t seem to faze him.

“That’s very mature,” I murmured, shaking my head. Irritation and reluctant amusement rolled through me. I needed to get away from him. When dinner concluded, I stood and started gathering dishes.

“How about decaf coffee and chocolate mousse out by the firepit?” Luna offered.

“Maybe we can have a girls’ night this weekend, but I should get going.”

As we got ready to leave, Drakos caught my arm, his grip firm but not painful. “Sylvie, we’re talking.”

Roman and Luna exchanged glances as they loaded dishes into the dishwasher. I could feel the weight of their curiosity, but I didn’t want to drag them into our shitshow.

I slowly pulled my arm away. “Alright, but not here.”

After saying goodnight, we stepped outside, where the cool night air did little to ease the heat between us. “Where did you park your vehicle?” I asked, looking around. I would have kept driving if I had noticed it in the driveway when I arrived.

“Around back. I knew if you saw it, you probably wouldn’t have stopped. Do you want to talk at your apartment or my loft?”

“Neither. There’s nothing to talk about.”

He slowly exhaled, as if looking for patience. “The mortuary or the loft?” he ground out.

---