Page 23 of Pretty Little Prey
“Kind?” Bastille fought the need to crush something.
“Nicer than you so far.”
Bastille did not like that. “What did the dragon do that was sonice?” He spat out the word like it was a personal affront to him.
Luna’s head dipped, her hair falling forward, but Bastille could see the rush of blood to her cheeks. At her blush, Bastille’s own body heated. Then, he remembered she blushed over the memory of the dragon. He grew cold once more.
“He, uh, made me feel good,” she replied.
Bastille did not like thatat all. “Made you feel good? So, he fucked you?”Do not flip over the table.
Her mouth fell open before she muttered, “N-No.”
“How did he make you feel good if he didn’t fuck you? Did he give you shiny gifts? Dazzle you with jewelry and compliments?”
Instead of responding, Luna did the one thing that couldn’t have aggravated Bastille more. She remained silent and tilted her head, surveying him. Examining him as ifshehad all the power in the room.
“What?” Bastille gritted out.
“Jewelry and compliments? Thinking I expect lobster. Why do you want me to be shallow so badly?”
Smart, sexy little thing. “I wantnothingfrom you,” he growled back.
“Except for information about the dragon shifter from the hotel.”
Damn it. She was right about that. “You said you were with him for about an hour. What happened in that hour?”
Her blush deepened into a darker red.
He wanted to throttle something. “Hedidfuck you!”
“He did not,” she said.
“Then, please, enlighten me,” Bastille rasped in that low, dominating voice. “Or, I can hypnotize you to tell me the truth again,” he threatened. “You choose.”
Luna scowled at the basilisk predator. Threatening to hypnotize her unless he got what he wanted? Typical asshole alpha.Knew I shouldn’t trust any of them. Still, if she risked fighting him on this, he could hypnotize her, and she could accidentally let it slip that she was a prey shifter.That cannot happen.
So, she told him the truth. “He… He licked me.”
Bastille’s dark eyebrows quirked at that. “The dragon licked you?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Her cheeks blazed with heat.
“Your pussy?” Bastille guessed. “He lapped at your clit with his tongue?”
Did he have to word it so…crudely? So sensually? “Y-Yes,” she stuttered, her thighs clenching at his words. Bastille was the epitome of an alpha, and his dominating scent rolled over her in waves. Even from across the long table, the intensity of his dark gaze tingled over her skin.
“You knew him for less than an hour and you let him eat your pussy?” He sounded…jealous.
She hated that her cheeks grew even hotter. Could someone faint from blushing too hard? “There were circumstances,” she replied.
Curious, Bastille crossed his thick arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair. “Please,” he said. “Tell me more.”
No way would she tell him about being mistaken for a hooker and going forward with it for the money. It would lead to more questions—questions she was not willing to answer. So, she said the first thing that came to mind, “I was horny, and he was hot. What more do you want me to say?”
