Page 175 of Cold-Blooded Creatures
Without a warning, I grabbed Zion’s throat right under his jaw. “You will do what I tell you.” Except I was not talking about the city anymore. “No games, no taunting, no goading.” I squeezed the sides of his neck, cutting off his flow of oxygen. But instead of backing away, he leaned into my hand,meltedinto my touch. “Only I will not be as nice to you as I am with her.” I could not stay away from him anymore. “So let me make this clear.” As much for him as for me. “And I will say this once.” Something I should have told him long ago. “I’m taking you for myself.”
My grip loosened as uncertainty prodded me with its talons. I could not hurt him again. Not in my darkest nightmares. “Say yes,” I quietly pleaded, searching for the answer in his eyes.
His throat bobbed in my grasp. “Yes.”
In the same sudden manner, I stole his lips for myself, nipping on them brutally enough to surprise him. The glass he held dropped on the table and rolled off the edge. But the sound of it bursting was not sharp enough to distract me.
Neither him, it turned out. He groaned into me, pulling me closer by my nape, his other hand snaking up my leg. His tongue spiced with alcohol welcomed my claim, stroking against mine, conjuring images of it stroking my cock, driving me wild.
His fingers tangled in my hair. “I’ve fantasized about you for so godsdamned long,” he breathed out, and bit my bottom lip so hard that burning heat spread across the crescent moon mark he had surely left.
I wanted to have him now, right this second, because Zion was mine. He had always been mine, and hearing him say he had dreamed about me made my cock swell to the point itached.
I wanted to consume him, to have him, fully, from his body to his being, because if one thing felt right, it was him in my arms.
I wanted to hear his voice, feel his exhales on my skin, have his body tremble underneath me, see his grin when he caughtme staring at him, tease him back when he threw around his flirtatious remarks, chase him when he provoked me, and fall asleep with him, our limbs tangled, so we would awaken in the morning together and leave Kali cocooned in her fluffy and unbearably-too-hot duvet while we made breakfast.
“Details,” I grunted out, and nibbled along his jaw, moving to his throat, and sunk my teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, deep enough to leave a mark for all to see. Reveling in his shudder, I licked the imprint I made, a bruise certain to appear tomorrow—a statement for any curious gazes.
Savage heaves rocked my chest as I found the prominent bulge in his jeans and palmed him over the taut material, his cock jerking and spurring me to inch closer to him, to erase any increment of space between us.
His head dropped back. “Outside.” A stuttering groan fluttered out of him as my tongue traced the hollow of his throat. “You going down on me.” His breaths grew choppier, his pelvis twitching as I rubbed him. “Her nails scraping down my abdomen.”
His hips bucking into my palm elicited tension to climb up my thighs, and I spread them wider to ease the pressure. As if it had found its master, his body had molded to mine perfectly, and I was not wasting time to adjust myself or take a break. I had waited too long for this.
“We have a free stage, you know.”
I whipped my head up to Tarri tapping her nails on our table, a tray of dirty dishes propped on her hip. “Everyone is already watching, so why don’t we move you somewhere with better lighting? Jayla said she’s been trying to get you there for ages.”
“What do you want?” I asked hoarsely, pushing through the haze clouding my comprehension and logic. The latter had splintered into non-existent pieces and the former had simplymelted away, thus making concentration on a subject not related to Zion challenging.
“Kali’s shift is over.” Tarri pointed to the exit, the door closed to keep the chilly night at bay. “She left.”
Shit. We were supposed to escort her home so she would not meander around alone without any protection, as one of three targets Ilasall sought to obliterate.
“Let’s go,” I told Zion as I reluctantly withdrew from him. My palms immediately chilled from the loss of his warmth, and I flexed my fists to get my head right. Based on his grin, he was not done with me either.
I shook myself off as we passed the rows of shabby tables, half of the customers observing us with pure amusement and the other half pretending the ice cubes in their glasses were more interesting than their leader dealing with his second-in-command.
I did not give a shit about them gawking. I craved to feel Zion’s body obeying each order without me so much as saying them out loud. It made me feral.
We neared the exit, slowing at the last table and catching their attention. Zion embedded his knife into the mottled wooden surface. “You tried to touch our girl,” he stated, his voice taking the familiar note he used on his playthings in our underground.
“What? Who are you talking about?” The ballsy fool frowned and searched for support in his two friends.
The left one shook his head, as puzzled as him, but the right one sat as still as a statue. Kane, the husband of a restaurant owner three streets over from Vice. Years he had been with us, so he had to have recognized my ink on her.
“Who do you think? She has the tattoo, you idiot.” Tarri slapped the back of the long-faced moron’s head and pinned mewith a look. “Whatever you have planned, take it outside. I’m not cleaning up after you.”
“I told you,” Kane hissed to the offender. His and the other friend’s chairs screeched as they pushed away from the wobbly table. “We didn’t do anything. We know better than that.”
“I didn’t touch anyone!” the idiot protested. “If you mean the waitress,sheflirted with me. It wasn’t my fault. And she wouldn’t let me touch her.”
“But youtried.” Zion snatched his right wrist, splayed his hand on the table, and used the handle of his knife to hit it right in the center.
The man’s wail pierced the already subdued chatter of the bar’s customers.
“Hold it there,” I told Zion, and took the knife from him, positioning the sharp tip on the second knuckle of the man’s middle finger. “If you even think about touching her again, I will ensure you will come to regret it.” I twisted the blade and a drop of red welled up to the surface. He blanched, as if the single scarlet bead had leeched the blood from his freckled face. “I will pluck the bones out of your fingers, one by one, and make a necklace out of them. I will use a paintbrush to color them with your blood and then watch you gift it to her as your apology.” To emphasize my message, I drove the knife all the way through his joint.
