Page 19 of The Mafia Bloodline
“Apparently irresistible, too,” I said, still grinning as I wiggle my eyebrows at him.
He sighed, the edge softening his expression as he took a careful step closer. “You’re not leaving this room again without telling me first. Not when you’re like this.”
“I was just looking for…”
“Runa.” His voice dipped low, warning.
“Fine,” I said quickly, biting back another laugh. “But next time, I’m making you go buy the pads.”
That almost drew a real smile from him. Almost.
He exhaled hard, eyes softening as he brushed his knuckles against my cheek. “You drive me insane.”
“Good,” I said sweetly. “Someone needs to keep you on your toes.”
His gaze darkened, but there was something else there now, a mix of amusement, frustration, and raw affection. “Careful what you wish for, little one.”
And as he herded me gently back toward the bed, muttering under his breath about stubborn human women, I couldn’t help thinking that for all the danger, all the madness that surrounded us, I had somehow found the one person who could understand my madness.
Even if he occasionally wanted to eat me first.
That thought had me giggling again.
The sound snapped something in him.
One second I was laughing, and the next I was pressed against the wall, his mouth devouring mine.
His hands, his lips, traveling over my body in a scorching path of decadence that has both of us breathless. He makes quick work of divesting me of my clothes, his hands like lightening stripping everything that is in our way.
The hunger between us wasn’t gentle, it was tidal, an unstoppable current that dragged us both under.
When he lifts my legs around his waist and plunges deep into my depth we are both mindless with lust. My gasp of pleasure driving him faster, deeper with abandoned passion.
Every time I thought we’d reached the edge of control, we fell off the cliff again.
It wasn’t careful, or patient. It was need and instinct colliding until the world outside vanished completely.
Hours blurred into a feverish haze of touch and whispered names. When exhaustion finally caught us, it was only long enough for a breath before the pull dragged us back together again.
By the second night, the bond was a wildfire; neither of us could keep away. Volken tried, he always did, but the sound of my heartbeat, the scent of my skin, the very pulse of me drew him like gravity.
And I didn’t want to stop him. Not once.
By the third dawn, we were both wrecked, his voice rough from whispering my name, my body trembling from the relentless rhythm of us. He lay behind me, his arm wrapped around my waist, his breath uneven against my neck.
For the first time since this madness began, the house was quiet. The craving in his blood had eased. And mine, mine felt sated, spent, blissfully still.
I smiled faintly against the pillow, thinking that maybe Sorcha hadn’t been exaggerating after all.
Three days. Three days of heat, hunger, and the kind of connection that rewrites everything you think you know about love.
And when sleep finally took me, I dreamed not of danger or demons, but of Volken, of his voice, his promise, his touch. Because for all the chaos he brought into my life… I couldn’t imagine it without him anymore.
Chapter 8
The world was silent when I woke. The kind of silence that only came after chaos.
Three days. That’s how long it had been, three nights and days of nothing but her.
