Page 67 of Kentucky Nights
“What?” He acts innocent, holding his hands up in the air. “I can’t help it. You’re too divine.”
“Well, that’s a good excuse. I’ll let it slide,” I wink at him, open the screen door, and rush through the house to get to his bedroom.
I change, taking one of his Dead Man’s Ranch shirts to tie at the side so it fits me better. I could wear one of the shirts Lorcan got me, but it isn’t the same. This shirt smells like Kentucky, and his scent brings me comfort.
Tossing on a pair of jeans that have a few rips across the thigh, I hurry to put on socks and my new pink boots. Sure, they might be a little extra, but they are so much fun. Plus, they are cute and would look good with most outfits.
Practical and impractical. It doesn’t get better than that.
My boots thunder down the hall when I sprint. Right as I get to the door, I trip over the trim, slam against the screen door, and fly outside. The screen breaks, my arm scrapes against a broken piece of metal, and then I slam into Kentucky’s chest.
I catch him off guard. I hear the air leave his lungs when I slam against him. The momentum, unfortunately, doesn’t stop with him. He tumbles backwards, but he doesn’t let me go. His arms are safety nets, holding me tight against his chest as we fall off the porch.
He hits the ground so hard, I swear I hear bone break.
“Oh my god. Kentucky! Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I was so excited. I wasn’t paying attention. I broke your door. I’m so embarrassed. What did you break? Iheard it. Don’t lie to me. Oh, no.” Tears begin to form, blurring my vision.
I get off him, checking him over for injuries. His arm is in a funky position and is definitely broken.
“Your arm! What did I do? Okay, I’ll call the ambulance. Or wait, no. We can take the work truck to the hospital. It will be faster and less expensive if you’re worried about that. Are you? Worried about that? I don’t mean to pry into your finances, but?—”
“Darlin’. Hey, slow deep breaths for me. Alright? I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor. Remember? I heal just fine. Look at me.”
I can’t even bring myself to look at him. I’m too embarrassed. Too ashamed. I don’t break hearts. I break bones.
And I think that might be worse.
“Watch me, Dru. You don’t have much time to see for yourself.” He wipes the tear on my cheek.
I sniffle but do as he says. The dent in his arm straightens to normal, the bone snapping into place. Kentucky flexes his hand to show me he is okay.
“See? I’m as good as new. No need to waste those tears. Injuries like this don’t bother me. I’m not in pain. This doesn’t hurt. I promise.”
I curl over him, pressing my forehead against his chest. “I’m so relieved. I forgot you had those nifty healing abilities. I still feel terrible. I broke your door.”
“Doors can be fixed. I’m not worried about that at all.” He sniffs the air, a scarlet curtain draping over his eyes. “You’re bleeding.” Kentucky zeroes in on the scrape against my forearm, his fangs peeping out from between his lips. “What happened?”
Gentle and calm, his hand circles around my wrist, bringing my arm closer to his face. “It cut you.”
“It’s not the door’s fault I tumbled through it,” I grumble with embarrassment.
He snarls, lifts his eyes to mine, then, without breaking our locked stares, he flattens his tongue on the wound. An injection of lust warms my body, pooling between my legs. My throat becomes dry. I forget how to speak when I glimpse the red painting his tongue.
Kentucky’s eyes roll to the back of his head when he groans. The sound echoes through the pastures, alerting anyone who is outside.
“You taste so fucking good,” he growls, his hand reaching between his legs.
The movement draws my eyes down to his arousal, heavy and thick in his jeans. He readjusts himself, continuing to lick at the wound that has already healed from his saliva.
“Biting you will be my salvation on this earth.” He presses a kiss against where the cut was seconds ago. “And when I do bite you, I’m going to fuck you wherever I fucking want, Dru. Over and over again, I’ll claim you on every square inch of this ranch until other paranormals will be able to smell you for miles. They will know better than to come here. They will know better than to dare try to take you from me like those shifters did.”
In a move I’m not expecting, he snakes his hand to my hip, flips me to my back, and hovers over me with the promise of death lingering in his eyes.
“If they do, I’ll add their spines to the lasso I’ve made of your enemies. They will be my trophies, while the lasso will be your protection.”
That shouldn’t be so sweet. I shouldn’t like the thought of him killing anyone, yet the thought of him protecting me, I’m obsessed with his idea of what protection means.
Grabbing his face, I smash our lips together. The mating heat begins to call again, screaming at Kentucky to bite me, to finish what he has started.
