Page 48 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
“I know what you’re thinking. I’m not projecting,” she hurriedly said. Zero was not her. After all, she had Joseph, as annoying as he could be. Zero had no one. He needed a friend. So did his father.
“It’s four weeks to Corra, then I’m on the next ship back,” she said.
He made noises that were at once judgmental and indecisive.
“I need to do something different, at least for a little while. Tomas is everywhere in here.”
“I don’t trust him, and how long does it take to shower? The food’s getting cold.”
“Like you’re such a superb judge of character. Remember that antiques dealer who was smuggling—”
“Fine! Point proven.” He grabbed a piece of chicken from the carton and took a bite. Speaking with his mouth full, “But you’re calling every day. If I don’t hear from you, I’m going to Corra and digging you out of your shallow grave. And if he murders you, I’m gonna be so pissed, like you don’t even know.”
“Ah, a brother’s protective love,” she said with a smile.
Chapter 9
Drink, drugs, and nonstop parties! The out-of-control lifestyle of pop star Rebel Cayne.
-Tal Tattler
Winter
He stood under the cold water of the shower. He lathered and rinsed several times, but he could not remove the scent of herbs and citrus—the scent of his female—from his nostrils.
No, not his female.
His behavior was unacceptable, even if it sprang from a place of protectiveness.
Intention did not matter. Even if the male had not been her brother and turned out to be her false mate, it was not his place to be defensive. Marigold was not his female and not his mate. He would never have another mate. What did he care if her piss-poor excuse of a mate came sniffing back, tail in hand, and begging for forgiveness?
He did not care.
The water and soap rinsed away the oil, but it did not ease the tension. His cock ached like a rotten tooth. Her scent was all around and he craved more. He wanted to bury his face in the pillows on the bed, roll around on the sheet until their scents mingled together. Even more, he had the desire to dig through her wardrobe and steal a memento. Not just any memento, but a scrap of silk and lace, the kind he glimpsed on the boat.
Yes. The longer he thought on it, the more he became convinced of the merit of the idea. She would not know, and if he could have a piece of fabric that smelled intensely of her, he could relieve some of the building pressure.
Out of the shower, he quickly dried. His clothes still had a few more minutes in the cleansing unit before they would be ready, giving him time.
He crept out of the cleansing room, a towel wrapped around his waist. The door to the sleeping chamber was shut. No one saw him open the top drawer in the wardrobe, and no one saw him stare at an unfolded pile of undergarments.
He could not pick through to find the perfect pair. What if Marigold had the messy pile memorized? She would know.
Snatching the pair off the top, lace in a pale fabric, he slammed the drawer shut. Placing the lace to his nose, he took a deep breath. His cock twitched as he rubbed the silky fabric against his jaw. No one would ever discover what he took.
The room held the lingering scent of another male. He wanted—needed—to rub his face to the pillows, marking them with his scent glands. The pillows, the bedsheets, her panties, everything, to replace the stench of her false mate.
The towel slid to the floor. His cock leaked. Dick in hand, he gave himself a stroke. It was a violation to abuse her trust, jerking himself off in her bedroom while he rubbed his face against her panties, but he needed the release. He had not felt this level of desire, any desire, in so long that he believed his cock no longer functioned properly.
She stirred him back to life.
She never backed down from his rudeness and disdain, instead meeting his ill temper with humor and resolve. He did not believe she could be cruel. Even at his worst, even while he tried his best to gut her brother, her words were kind and patient.
His hand worked the length of his cock. He imagined how she would appear on her knees, dark eyes blown wide with desire, her lips parted, eager to taste him. He wondered at the feel of her blunt human teeth, contrasted with the texture of her human tongue, the heat and softness of her.
With a barely restrained groan, he spilled in his hands. Panting, he stood in her sleeping chamber. When sense returned, he cleaned himself, dressed, and tucked the panties into a pocket.
By all the seven virtues, he did not deserve a female like her.
