Page 40 of Prodigy & Tybalt
I glided my fingers into his hair, his eyelids fluttering until I gripped tightly. The dark edge of warning in his eyes made me shudder, made me needier. “Tybalt,” I breathed. “Please.”
With a groan, he lined his tip with my entrance and sank inside, not stopping until I was full of him.
“No knot,” Prodigy warned, pressing kisses to my mark. “That damn barbecue’s in an hour and you know how possessive you get when you’re knotted.”
Tybalt’s low growl echoed around the basement, and he thrust hard, making my mouth fall open at the rough, claiming strokes. His pace was rapid and punishing. I was already sosensitive, every thrust was heightened, enough to make me breathless.
“Fuck, warrior,” he groaned. “Wanna knot you so fucking bad.” He locked eyes with Prodigy as our president pressed against my back, kissing my shoulder, then my mark, returning to it like it was the centre of his orbit. “Hurry up, I’m losing my fucking mind.”
Prodigy snorted. He reached between us and glided the pads of his fingers over all the places I tingled. He circled my clit once and rumbled a gravelly purr at the chain reaction when I gasped and clenched around Tybalt, and Tyb clutched us both closer, a growl-whine in his throat.
Prodigy used his slick hand to coat his cock and my ass, then took firm hold of Tybalt’s jaw. “Staystill,”he ordered, all his alpha dominance pouring out and making Tyb and I both shudder. When Tybalt obeyed, Prodigy stroked his cheek with his thumb. “Good boy.”
I moaned when his cock jolted inside me, sending a sharp crash of pleasure through my core that only grew when Prodigy slid, so slowly, inside me.
“Miraya.” His mouth skimmed my throat. “Tell me how you feel.”
“So full,” I gasped, breathing through the sensation, a matching swell inside my chest. I was bitten and claimed and taken, and fuck, it felt good.
“Don’t stop,” I pleaded.
“Not for a fucking second,” Tybalt promised.
And they didn’t stop until my legs turned to jelly and I forgot how to think.
17
Tybalt
Sometimes I thought fate was a fucking myth. Today? I was starting to believe in it.
If my asshole family hadn’t sold me, if that alpha hadn’t messed me up so badly that my own mate rejected me, if Giant hadn’t found me living on the streets, half starved to death, and brought me to the Knights, I wouldn’t be strolling down this hallway right now, smiling my goddamn head off.
Plus, when we’d got cleaned up and I asked if our girl wanted to help us hunt down those vile fucking vermin who abducted and auctioned her, not only did she immediately agree, she gave us three names of the auction staff who put her on the block. She was so strong, so defiant, and I was damned proud of her. Watching her give her nightmares and trauma the middle finger made me braver, injected enough courage into me that I crossed the clubhouse and aimed for the kitchen. I had to do this now, before I lost my nerve.
Then I’d go find Cobra and we could hunt down those three motherfuckers and make them pay. Especially the—as she described him—weaselly fucker who stole her off the street. His description matched someone we’d been looking for for a long, long time, when an alpha tried to abduct Winner’s mate, Mercedes. We’d enjoy hunting and torturing that dickhead.
Not as much as I’d enjoy killing the men who stripped and scrubbed my girl before taking photos of her from every angle, presumably to post a fucking listing, like she was an item to sell. I was going to hang those men up with Lance Brown in my basement, maybe break out my blowtorch especially for them.
I ripped myself out of the violent rage with a shake of my head, getting my shit under control as I leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen and knocked on the wood to announce myself.
Sweetie’s eyes narrowed when he saw who it was, wariness writing itself across his body.
“Hey,” I said.
He grunted, but that was pretty normal.
“So,” I began, hoping he’d make this easy on me and not particularly surprised when he returned to the sweetcorn-looking salad thing he was making, not speaking a word. “I’m not gonna apologise for breaking your nose. You deserved that shit.”
His grunt could have been argumentative or agreement; it was hard to tell. I stared at the ceiling, waiting for divine intervention from that fate I suddenly believed in.
I sighed. Heavily. “I may have… taken out some shit on you, that you didn’tentirelydeserve.” Silence. Great. I resisted the urge to pull at my hair. I might not give a shit if it was someone else, but Sweetie and I had always been tight. I’d always thought he was a decent guy, and he seemed to see something decent inme, too. I didn’t like this weird tension every time we were in the same room.
He squirted mayonnaise from a squeeze bottle, being extra loud about it.
Jesus, this was a nightmare. This was why I didn’t talk about my feelings unless Prodigy was fucking them out of me; I was just plain bad at it. But Miraya had been brave, had raked up her trauma to help us hunt those motherfuckers, so I glared at the ceiling and said, “It brought up my own mate rejecting me, and I projected all that rage onto you. It took me a long time to calm the fuck down and see that the situations were nothing alike. You’re nothing like that bitch who rejected me.”
Spiteful, sneering fucking asshole, that’s what she was. I hoped she was dead in a ditch somewhere, unloved and unwanted, while I had two mates of my own, mates I’d chosen for myself.
