Page 37 of Marked
His eyes flash. “Yes. You will accompany the human girl to Underground. Be polite, charming. Surely you have not forgotten how?”
My teeth grind. I feel anything but charming.
What I feel is animalistic. Horny. Thirsty.
Yeah those words work better.
But I bow low and start to walk away.
“Dress nice!” Raina calls. I slam to a stop, fists clenched and an unintelligible string of curses pouring from me.
My heart pounds as I stand, riveted, in place.
It’s one night. One damn night.
How bad can it be?
My knuckles crack, but I flit down the fucking hall to get ready.
Chapter 18
Lilah
I rock a little on my low heels, watching the minute hand tick away on the foyer clock. Ruin is ten minutes late. Not that I’ve been counting. At all.
My snort makes Maximus glance over. He offers a genteel wave and goes back to his dusting.
The only thing I had that was Club patron worthy was some old cast offs from Carnage. Something Raina assured me was not going to do.
Five minutes later, said vampire queen and two hired hands showed up at my door, a case of clothes between them. The trunk of clothes were part of what the vampiress called ‘finds’. Things the other refugees left behind when it was time to move on.
There were flapper dresses and go-go boots, lace gloves and poodle skirts. It was a hodge-podge of every era in one bin.
It took some digging, and a lot of pleading on Raina’s part, but I got dressed.
I try not to pull at my skirt. Again.
It’s shorter than I like. A lot shorter. But the pleated fabric is shockingly soft and a wondrous mix of black and red. The tank top was one of Raina’s. And definitely not meant for breasts my size.
I glare down at my cleavage as they try to spill free. Someone clears their throat.
My head whips up, cheeks on fire.
Ruin stands at the base of the stairs, one brow raised as he watches me.
Drool spills from my mouth.
He traded his leather gear for dark blue jeans poured over his massive thighs, a black T-shirt, and combat boots. Thick leather cuffs adorn his wrists, and a single diamond sits in one ear.
The man screams bad boy wet dream. I try to force my raging hormones into submission. All it does is make me pant. He stalks over the marble floor, hips rolling.
And walks right past me.
My heart slams at the dismissal. I drop my head a little and follow him out of the manor. The Mercedes from the night before idles at the sidewalk. I climb in beside him and try to ignore his scent.
We remain in the driveway—car running—long enough that I look over.
He watches me, brows furrowed and confusion on his face. One long, pale finger flows over the line of my neck and down. It trails across the strap of the tank top before continuing over my bare arm. I shiver and my nipples peak.
