Page 10 of Blood and Thorns
My head automatically dipped back, and my breathwhooshed out in one long, panicked exhale. Eyes of the deepest blue, cold and merciless, glared down at me with a fury laced with cruel amusement.
But it wasn’t the rage in his gaze that made me still.
It was the matte black skeletal mask shrouding the lower half of his face.
Chapter 5
Sebastian
Morris Grey was a pathetic excuse for a human being, which wasn’t a surprise considering he apparently owed half the city money, including the Bratva, as well as the Irish. Idiot clearly played with people far bigger than him. Apparently, he was a name within the underground poker tournaments, but if I went by his current situation, he clearly wasn’t any good.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked, my voice more of a growl as I closed the distance.
I knew he did, recognition widening his eyes before he gave me a jerky nod. “I… I didn’t know it was your money.”
Rage burned through my veins, barely restrained. “Where is it?”
“I… lost it. But I can get it back, I swear! There’s a game coming up, and I’ll make sure I’ll win. I’ll pay you back every penny, plus more! You’ve just got to give me some time.”
I cocked my head to the side, and I was pretty sure Morris just pissed himself. I was surprised the snivelling cunt was still alive, especially once I’d found out there was aprice on his head. But that didn’t matter, because I got to him first, and no one was going to challenge it.
There was a carefully created truce between the other organisations within the city. They stayed out of my business, and I stayed out of theirs.
One man wasn’t worth starting a war over.
The air behind me shifted, and Langdon turned with his gun the same time Caden lifted his hammer. But I’d already moved, catching the wrench that had been aiming for the back of my head and pulling the little assailant tight to my chest.
She was a small thing, having to crane her head back to better meet my angry gaze. Her brunette hair was a wet mess around her face, strands having fallen out of the high ponytail to stick to her damp skin. Her eyes were a warm brown with flecks of gold, and they rounded in fear when they settled on my mask.
“The police are on their way,” she said, her voice a husky, quivering sound that didn’t match the delicacy of her bone structure.
“Are they now?” My thumb moved to brush along the pulse on her wrist. It thrummed, giving away her fear even as she composed herself.
Thick lips, large eyes framed in black, and the fairest skin that looked as if it would mark so easily beneath the slightest touch. My eyes drifted to the small graze on her cheek, the flesh pink and fresh, and then the slice along her bottom lip.
Her breath hitched beneath my scrutiny, and for some reason that made me want to smirk.
Looking up, I met Caden’s gaze.“Who the fuck is she?”I asked in my father’s tongue. I may now call London my home, but France was the country of my birth, even if I hadn’t stepped foot on French soil in almost two decades.
Langdon was the one to reply, his hands moving at a speed that reflected his excitement at the change of events. “There’s no name other than Mr Grey on the rental agreement for both the flat and garage.”
“You’ve been keeping secrets, Morris my man,” Caden grunted, using his hammer to lift Morris’s chin. The prick’s lips trembled, eyes darting between everyone before settling back on me.
“Please, you can have anything. Just don’t hurt me,” he said, showing no concern for the woman. It was an amusing statement considering blood was trickling down his face in a steady stream.
“How much does my father owe you?” the little rabbit in my hands asked, her voice strong compared to her pulse, which continued to give her away. I returned my attention to her, enjoying how her eyes narrowed with just a taste of insolence.
She hadn’t made any attempt to free her wrists, which were both caught in one of my hands and pressed hard against her breast. She was soaking wet, the white T-shirt slick to her skin and showing every single detail of her nude lace bra. Her nipples pebbled, pushing at the fabric as if an invitation.
I decided to reach up and close my fingers around her throat, feeling the shallowness of her breaths. She tried to swallow, the motion brushing against my palm like a caress.
“How much does he owe you?” she asked again.
“Ara, shut the fuck up!” Morris hissed until Caden hit him in the stomach.
Theoomphof air was satisfying, as was the wheeze he made as he fell forward. The scent of piss was much stronger now, obscuring Ara’s faint scent of fresh rain, stale beer, and jasmine.
She was a pretty little thing, beautiful even withanimosity burning her gaze. “How much?” she repeated once more, the question more stern.
