Page 12 of Taste of Blood
“I never looked down on you.”
“No? How about all the times you berated me for working for Dante? ‘You could do better,’ you said. ‘You could make more money on your own.’ After a while, that’s all you ever talked about; making more money. It’s like you stopped seeing me and only saw what you thought I could be. If I just had the ambition you had, I could be as good as you.”
“Is that what you thought?”
He sits back. “It’s what I know, Asher. I was never good enough for you.”
I never meant to come across that way, but the fact that Cord thinks I did cuts me to the bone. “I only wanted to see you succeed, whatever form that took. I never meant to imply you weren’t good enough.” I stare at him for a minute, considering everything he said, then drop to my knees and crawl across the floor to kneel in front of him.
His lips curl up in a smirk. “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to ruin your suit?”
“Fuck my suit.” I reach up and take his hands in mine, forcing him to meet my eyes. “I’m sorry if I ever gave you that impression. You’ve always been the one thing I care for most in this world. Even when we were kids in that godawful home back in Milledgeville, you were the only reason I was able to go on. I was terrified when you told me about the Clan contacting you because I was sure it meant you were going to leave me.”
“You know I would never do that.”
“But you did. Ten years ago. You left and it tore a hole in my world.”
5: Cord
FUCK.
Why did he have to say that? I was doing fine. Had my shields up and my feelings closed off. After seeing him last night and then that little texting interlude when I got home, I’d convinced myself I wasn’t going to fall into that trap again. As far as I’m concerned, Asher Winston may be used to winning, but he isn’t going to add me back to his list of conquests.
Yeah, I’d missed him when I walked out. I mean, I’d known the guy practically my entire life. He knew things about me no one else did. But I wasn’t lying when I said he’d hurt me. After my childhood, it took me a long time to see myself as having value. And while Asher may not approve of him, Dante helped me get to that point. With Asher, it seemed I was nothing more than another possession.
It’s funny because when we were kids, I was the one who always looked out for him. I was bigger, stronger, meaner. And I didn’t mind that role. Even after we transitioned and our relationship evolved past mere friends, I still looked out for him.
But then his mentor Carlyle started monopolizing all his time. Grooming him to be his successor. And Asher not only took to it, he became it. It’s like he changed overnight. His ambition knew no bounds. And I was like an anchor weighing him down, especially when I didn’t respond to his demands to want more.
I’d tried to shrug it off, ignore the taunts and criticism, but it just got to the point that I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d pick fights just to get out of the house. And then I’d pick fights out in the street to silence the rage. I started asking Dante for more dangerous assignments, and Dante of course obliged. Which only pissed Asher off more. I was in a bad place and knew if I didn’t change things I was either going to destroy myself or let someone else do it for me.
So I left.
Did I miss him? Hell yeah, I missed him. Cutting him out of my life was like cutting off a limb. There’s been no one else before or since. No one can make me feel the way he does, but there’s no way I’m giving him that kind of power over me again.
And now he’s here, on his knees, those damned emerald eyes fixed on mine, his signature musk and woodsy scent filling my head, and I can’t think. I should tell him to go. No, I should insist that he go.
Now.
Before I do something I’ll regret.
So why am I reaching for him? Craving his touch. No wonder he succeeds at business. He’s a perfect manipulator. A perfect vampire. He’s…
“Evil,” I murmur as his hand crawls up my leg and closes over the growing bulge in my jeans, his tongue snaking out to lick those full lips. Lips I love seeing wrapped around my cock. I shudder thinking of the things he can do with them.
“Please,” I whimper, and I’m not sure what I’m asking for. To leave? To continue?
“Let me take care of you,” he breathes as he unbuttons my pants.
This is wrong. This is regret waiting to happen.
I can already feel my cock pushing against the back of his throat and he hasn’t even touched it.
How can I want him when he’s so bad for me?
He slowly lowers my zipper, his eyes never leaving mine, his long slender fingers slipping inside my pants.
Touching me.
