Page 46 of Marked
Stupid.
It was so fucking stupid to kiss her. For so many reasons.
Anyone could have walked in while I was distracted by the succulent taste of her mouth and those fucking curves. Curves that are still in my hands, filling them perfectly and begging me to touch them over and over.
My eyes close tight. If she had been hurt because of my inattention ...
No. I need to hate her. To remind myself that the innocent woman I see is a mask. A front. Just like Carnage was.
Just like the apartment had to be.
So why did she even ask me to kiss her? Is it a game? Is it the novels she had in that damn room at Carnage? Some deep-seated kink that she wants to work out?
She can’t want me. Not really.
It’s the change of her situation, the stress maybe. There can be no desire for me as anything other than a warm body to help ease the ache. And fucking-A do I want to help ease the gods-damn ache.
I lean against the wall near the low bar, forcing myself to breathe past the need. And the first touch of my rage.
Everything in me is screaming to lay her on a bed, a couch ... One of the tables. I want to yank her skirt up and feast between her plump thighs. Audience be damned.
I stifle the hungry snarl that wants to burst free. Barely.
Meanwhile, Lilah walks along behind Raina, hands clasped before her, and head tilted as she listens intently to every word the vampiress says. Raina said she would be working at Underground. And I have every intention of voicing my opinion on that one just as soon as I get a chance.
Not that I expect either female to listen to a fucking word I say. But Lilah is human. The heiress to one evil son of a bitch, too. How the hell is my queen going to give her a job here? A sanctum of the supernatural kin. The very population Lilah’s ‘uncle’ is working to kill, if he really is tied up with Vlad.
But maybe that was the endgame. Leave her stranded, defenseless. No. Vic couldn’t know we would take her in. He couldn’t predict we would give her refuge, a job ... A home.
My chest clamps like a vice, and I snarl. That shithole apartment was not a home. It was old age and pneumonia waiting to happen. Lilah deserves ...
I shake my head hard before that thought can even finish forming. Lilah is nothing to me. To the colony. She’s just a human.
One I want in my fucking lap more than I want the next breath of air in my lungs.
Raina didn’t say a word to me in the viewing room or the hall. And I know she saw us. Hell, she can scent my arousal just like every other supe in the place. That may be the only good thing about the whole clusterfuck. Not a damn one of them will even look at Lilah for more than a few seconds now.
My scent is all over her. The spice and lilac fragrance is almost enough to bring me to my knees. To make me beg to have it on my sheets and in my bed.
On my tongue.
But Raina will tell Markus. Hell, maybe my king already knows. I groan. That is a conversation I am not looking forward to.
Lilah walks over to me, little skirt bouncing. Half the fucking club watches her and that virginal innocence that wreathes her like a gods-damn halo. One I want to tarnish with a lot of naughty days and nights. With silk sheets, fangs, and flesh.
“Ruin?”
I snap to attention, focusing on her upturned face. “Yeah?”
Her hips twirl a little. “I’m ready to go. If you are.”
“Yeah. Sure thing.” My voice cracks, and I scrub the back of my neck. There’s a bottle of bourbon calling my name at the manor anyway. “Do you need to tell Raina or ...”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m all yours.”
My heart slams so hard, a nearby shifter glances my way. I force the traitorous organ to shut the fuck up and motion her to the door.
The night is warm, breezy. Even outside the heavy beat of some Mercalli remix thrums through the air. A masculine grunt eclipses a long pause from the synthesizer inside, making me turn.
