Page 45 of Cold-Blooded Creatures
The time stood still as I choked out, “Gedeon.”
I didn’t know if I said his name for him to stop, or to ask for more, or to continue until I passed out and the weight of today’s events disintegrated into nothingness.
He pulled out and teasingly tapped my over-sensitized clit, and I nearly leaped out of the bathtub from the onslaught of sensation.
“For each minute you make me wait, I will make you come again.”
His promise liquefied my insides as I gasped for air. I couldn’t take any more. I’d likely explode.
“Fine. No one but you has ever made me come,” I puffed out. “Because apparently, I myself am no one.”
“Ever,” he growled in satisfaction. “I like the sound of that.” He tightened his hold on me and tucked my head under his chin.“I knew I would love you yelling my name. Your screams are exquisite.”
“You won’t be able to hear them after I rip your ears off,” I seethed. What had been a dull throb pulsed sharply, and I inspected my stomach for the offender—a scarlet line above my left hip. “You cut me.” Disbelief permeated my voice.
He twisted me in his lap and brought my attention to his abdomen, to the matching slash above his hipbone, the wound clotted closed without a single stitch. “I told you I would mark you the same way you did me.”
Realization struck me with full force. He’d threatened to do exactly that if I didn’t drop the shard of crystal glass I’d used as a weapon to defend myself. I hadn’t listened then, intent on bringing the end to their capture of me.
His lips brushed my forehead. “One, two, and three.”
I reeled back. “What are you counting?” Those kisses had been soft, soothing, sweet. And he’d just made me come multiple times while splitting my skin open.
“You will see.”
I rolled my eyes at the nonsensical answer. His arrogance was unparalleled.
He rose to his feet, hauling me up with him, and I covered myself instinctively. Climbing out of the bathtub sideways, water running down his muscled torso and soaking into the hem of drenched denim, he plucked a fluffy white towel off the hanger and spread it for me. “Arms open.”
“Not a chance.” I seized it from him and wrapped the towel around myself. At least it was large enough and fell to the middle of my thighs.
He took something from the mirrored cabinet above the sink and said, “Give me your hand.”
Clutching the towel, I got out, careful not to fall on the slippery tiles. He kissed the stitches in my palm and covered the wound with a clean roll of gauze. “Keep it dry to avoid swelling.”
“Get out.” I hoisted the towel higher, securing my hold on it. “Now.”
I couldn’t physically kick him out of the room, but I’d had enough. My lids grew heavy; rest was all I craved.
Alone.
“Sweet dreams.” With a smirk, he picked up his boots and shirt, then strolled out of the bathroom, his steps a bit stiff from how his faded black jeans were plastered to his legs.
I froze.
From his nape to his ass, tattoos of tiny silhouettes of birds covered the entire expanse of his back. A flock caught in time, the bottom ones perching as if on the ground, awaiting their turn to fly up like the ones mid-thrust above them, and the rest soaring the skies along the lines of his shoulders and nape.
I’d glimpsed it only for a few seconds, but it’d appearedalive.
A dull thud told me he’d left my bedroom. I waited a minute before I forced my quivering legs to move, then ripped the door open.
Leaning against the wall, Zion perked up immediately. “Want to yell my name too?”
I slammed the door in his face. Him being my personal bodyguard extinguished my last spark of hope.
And Gedeon had already used up my last shred of strength. He’d manipulated my senses until he’d gotten what he wished—my confession and his name on my tongue.
Sex had never been associated with euphoria for me. Usually, it was painful and degrading. At best, tolerable. I would endure whatever they asked of me in Ilasall to get what I needed or wished for, but not a single person had made me feel like Gedeon had. And the vicious kiss from Zion had been the total oppositeof the disgusting gropes I was used to. Yes, he was essentially a stranger, but godsdamnit, there was something alluring about his weird ways.
