Page 66 of The Seeker
“You kissed me back,” she said quietly.
“And I wanted to do more.” He looked at her mouth. “I want to take your lower lip between my teeth and bite it. I want to get my mouth on your breasts, get my hands on your ass and just—”
Meera slapped a hand over his mouth. “We are in public,” she hissed.
He grabbed her hand, turned her palm over, and sank his teeth into the soft swell of flesh at the base of her thumb. He bit down just hard enough to make Meera gasp, then he kissed the center of her palm and gripped her hand with his as he hooked her ankles between his under the table.
“My attraction to you has nothing to do with your role in the Irin hierarchy,” Rhys said in a low voice. “It has nothing to do with the power you will have. I can’t say it has nothing to do with your magic, because your magic is intoxicating to me and it’s part of who you are. And I want who you are.” He took a shuddering breath. “I want you… far more than is comfortable or well-mannered.”
Her mouth was hanging open. “You bit me.”
He shifted in his seat. “Yes. I like to bite you. Apparently.” He was uncomfortably aroused just thinking about the other parts of her he wanted to bite. “Say something very boring.”
“What?”
“Boring, Meera.” He glared at her. “Otherwise walking to the car might be very awkward.”
“Shall I start reciting from Chomsky’sAspects of the Theory of Syntax? I always found transformational grammar theory to be a mood killer in past relationships.”
Rhys covered his eyes. “Gabriel’s fist, that just made it worse.”
“You are a very strange man.”
Rhys’s phone rang. “What?”
“Who pissed in your cornflakes, brother?” It was Roch. “Are you two back at the hotel?”
“No.”
“Well, get back. I just talked to a local scribe. There’s some Grigori in Lafayette, and we need to take care of them. Tonight.”
Chapter Twelve
“How do we know they’re not free Grigori?” Meera asked. “Just trying to live their lives quietly? You said they were living in the swamp. Do we know that they’re hunting?”
Roch glanced over his shoulder as he drove. “This scribe isn’t the kind to start shit for the sake of starting shit. He’s a quiet guy. If he says they’re a problem, they’re a problem.”
“So we’re possibly killing a group of Grigori on the word of a single person?”
“Yeah, Meera, we are.”
She stared at the passing green blur of the darkening bayou. “I don’t agree with this.”
Roch’s voice was low. “This isn’t something you have a say over.”
I should.Meera pressed her mouth shut and tried to rein in the quiet rage that simmered in her chest. She knew Roch was correct. She knew that in matters of Grigori, not even elders were consulted in the field. Warriors had to make quick decisions to save lives. She even agreed with that philosophy. To a point. The Elder Council laid down protocols. The scribe houses followed them. It was the only way to retain any kind of order in their world.
Meera didn’t deny that the Irin were at war, she just questioned the lack of any power other than a warrior’s hand.
Rhys turned around and looked at her. “What would you do?”
“Roch is correct. I don’t have a say.”
“You do to me. What would you do?” He glanced at Roch. “Do you have a… method for talking to the Grigori that we should know about?”
It was clear from Rhys’s expression that he hadn’t forgotten what happened to the Grigori at Meera’s house or the conversation they’d had after.
Does Roch know?his expression asked.
