Page 37 of Dragon Thief of New York
“Believe me when I say there’s no way you had sex with Damian and didn’t come. Just looking at the man is enough to have me nearly spilling in my pants. Plus, he wouldn’t have come before you. Trust me. You came.”
My cheeks feel hot, and I pull at the collar of my shirt to get some airflow.
“Or maybe it’s a time thing,” Otto muses. “Like you just timed out? I don’t know.” He takes my hand and pulls me across the space so we’re pressed together. “We’re gonna solve this. Don’t worry, beauty.”
How is this my life? Two days ago, I didn’t even know this man. Yesterday, I was determined to make him eat shit for forcing me to become a fucking dragon against my will. Now, it feels as natural as breathing to have him hold and comfort me. Maybe I’m just touch-starved.
I clear my throat and step away. “You know, I haven’t forgiven you.”
He has the audacity to smirk. “Yeah, you have.”
“No, I haven’t.” I stomp my foot like a petulant child and immediately regret it. In all the craziness of finding my son’s dad and learning why I can’t remember him, I’ve been too distracted to stay upset with Otto. Not to mention, I’ve needed his support.
But what he did isn’t excusable.
The door opens directly into the penthouse before I can say anything else.
“Here we are.” Otto holds his arm out, waiting for me to go first.
Modern furniture graces the space with clean lines and solid colors that contrast with the exposed brick walls. Abstract art adds pops of vibrant color, and the floor to ceiling windows wash the room in bright natural light.
My mouth falls open, but it’s not the casual elegance of the apartment that surprises me. It’s the naked man. He’s facing the window, but he spins around when he hears us step out of the elevator, angrily pumping his cock like it did something to offend him.
Our eyes catch, and he doesn’t look away, doesn’t stop. If anything, his hand moves faster, harder. Like he’s punishing himself more than seeking pleasure.
“You won’t remember this anyway.” The snarl on his face breaks into a sob.
I gasp as I realize who this is and why he said that. This is Damian.
He looks as broken as the expensive coffee table between us. It’s clear something heavy fell on it recently, and he hasn’t bothered cleaning up the broken shards of wood. He’s been drinking. The scent of alcohol is thick in the room, and he sways a little as he steps away from the window. His eyes are red rimmed like he’s been crying for hours.
Tears threaten my own eyes, but I don’t look away. I have a vague sense that I should be horrified by what I’m seeing. I should run back into the elevator and get out of here. But for some reason, his pain doesn’t scare me. And neither does the raw desire I see on his face.
I take a tentative step closer. He presses back against the window. His hand slows, and he blows out a breath like he’s trying to get himself to stop. Flickering flames burn bright in his eyes, eclipsing his pupils. Scales shimmer on various parts of his body, popping up before turning back to skin. This man is half beast right now.
A tortured beast.
Because ofme.
Because he thinks he’s lost me.
I don’t remember him. I know nothing about him except what Otto told me, but something deep in my gut—something primal and instinctive—tells me he’smine.
Holding Damian’s gaze, I slowly walk around the coffee table to where he’s standing by the window and lower to my knees.
“What are you doing, beauty?” Otto’s tone is worried. “He’s half feral right now.”
“I know.” I give my unexpected and unasked-for mate what I hope is a reassuring smile, then turn all my attention back to Damian. “Come here.” The words are thick with command. I might be kneeling, but I’m the one in control right now.“Come. Here.”
Damian staggers forward. “Kat.” His breath is ragged. “I can’t… what if you…”
He’s only a foot away from me now, so I scoot a little closer on my knees. My tongue traces my parted lips as I stare at him. He’s shaking his head. I wrap my hand around his so we’re gripping his cock together. Then I look up through my lashes, open my mouth, and stick out my tongue.
Chapter 20
Damian
Thishastobesome kind of alcohol-induced wet dream. My mate’s hand tightens over mine. Her touch is so warm, so right. She opens her mouth even wider, pushes her tongue past her lips, and flattens it in invitation. My perfect little target.
