Page 51 of Marked
“You want me to hang?”
I suck in a heavy draw. “Nah. I’ll be in after a while.”
He claps me on the arm. “Seriously, though.” His eyes are stark, deep-set emeralds beneath his almost white-blonde waves. “Fuck the human, Cap. When you’re done, we will be in the training room.” He walks off and I stand alone in the tunnel; the Black-Dream smoke fills the space until the very air resembles the haze in my skull. A haze that tames some of the lust to something manageable. Easy.
Only then do I snuff the joint out and go find Lilah.
Chapter 24
Lilah
Something cool flows over my cheek and I jerk upright, all vestiges of sleep gone.
Ruin stands over my chair, his dark eyes bloodshot and a coarse shadow of hair covering his jaw. His bottomless gaze tracks over me from the top of my head to my toes where I kicked off my heels. “You planning on sleeping there?”
I gaze up at him as he continues to stroke my face. “You told me to stay.”
His lips curve. “You listen remarkably well when I get angry. Why is that?”
My heart thrums. “Because you weren’t angry at me. Not really.”
Those dark eyes drop to my mouth. “Oh yeah?”
I lick my lips, and a trace of gold shines through his irises. “You were upset about the woman, but you had every right to say what you did. I should’ve walked into the station and turned Vic in years ago. I didn’t, and now her death is on me.”
He drops into a crouch, and a wash of heavy spice floats around him. “It’s on both of us.” His words puzzle me, but he just leans closer to my drawn up legs. “Now, again ... You planning on sleeping there?”
“Can I go back to my room?”
His dark eyes flash and they trail over my bare legs like heat. “I was thinking something closer.”
“Closer?”
“Yeah. Like a room in here.”
“Umm ...why?” I ask, searching his face.
He frowns. “It’s too far to walk, right now.”
My eyes narrow on the glassy quality of his gaze. “Are you high?”
He waves one hand absentmindedly. “Black-Dream weed for a supe is like a muscle relaxant to a human. I’m fine.” Again, he frowns. “Or I will be. Soon. Very soon.”
“And why is that?” I ask, not really sure I want the answer.
His hands glide up my legs, and he pulls them down. And apart. My skirt bunches up around the tops of thighs, and I try to tug it back in place. “Ruin? What are you—”
He forces my hands to the armrests with a growl. “Hold.” My body tightens at the command. I dig my nails into the supple leather and hold on for dear life.
His dark head tilts. One hand pulls at the pleats of my skirt, raising it slowly higher. He groans. “Fuck me.” He looks up, and his eyes glow softly. “Black lace? Really?”
My chest heaves. “It matches the skirt,” I breathe.
The sound that leaves him is part growl, part moan. “They’re almost too pretty to rip. Almost.”
My core clamps down like a vise.
Rip?
