Page 73 of Nest of Thieves
The clock on my wall ticks, but not even the steady beat of it can soothe me. I toss the sheet off me and sit, running my hand over my bare chest. There are a few raised bumps, scars from my past. The bandage around my arm is stifling. I peel off the tape, tossing the gauze onto my bedside table. There’s a small bloodstain on it. Doc will be pissed I took the bandage off, but it’s my body. I’m not planning on diving into any pools or rolling around on the floor. The bandage can stay off for a few hours.
A soft whisper of footsteps sounds from outside my room. Jo is the only one who’d be sneaking around this early in the morning. Adjusting my basketball shorts, I stand and make my way to the door, my steps silent. I press my forehead to the door and listen as Jo makes her way down the stairs. After a full minute passes, I open the door and stalk after her, following her alluring scent to the kitchen.
“Don’t worry about that. I need to meet you,” she says in a hushed tone.
Frowning, I stop and lean against the wall outside the room, eavesdropping.
“I’m aware. When can we meet?”
It’s impossible to understand what she’s talking about without being able to hear the other side of the conversation. If she’s talking to another man, he’s already dead. I never claimed to be a gentleman, and until Jo sticks a knife through my heart, she doesn’t get to be with anyone else. I won’t force her to be with me if she doesn’t want to. I also won’t let her run into the arms of another.
I meant what I said. Though she may not care to admit it yet, Jo is ours. She didn’t even blink twice at the three of us covered in blood last night. She had a knife jammed against Ricky’s crotch, ready to castrate him. She’s the perfect mate for a bunch of misfits like us. Any omega we take would need to be strong, to not be afraid of the darker side of the business.
“No, you don’t understand. I need to see you. Hello?” A pause. “Motherfucker.” She releases an irritated breath.
Rolling off the wall, I step into the room and cross my arms over my bare chest. “Who was that?”
Jo whirls around, her lips parting in a pretty O shape that makes my cock twitch. Her hip brushes against the counter where she stands.
A moment passes. Our eyes rove over one another. The worn Smashing Pumpkins shirt is tight across her tits, and the tiny shorts she’s wearing may as well be underwear. Her long hair is piled into one of those high ponytails that makes me want to wrap it around my hand and fuck her from behind. Everywhere her eyes touch leaves a trail of fire. My blood races through my veins, heart pumping in anticipation. The musky smell of my lust blooms in the room, her delicate arousal sweeping over like a soft spring breeze.
“How long have you been there?” she finally asks, wrenching her gaze from where my happy trail disappears into my shorts.
I run my tongue ring over the back of my teeth. “Long enough. Who were you talking to?”
“None of your business,” she shoots back.
I drop my arms at my side and take a step. “Whoever he is, he’s a dead man.”
“You’re fucking mad.” She shakes her head but doesn’t cower or move away.
I take another step. “I’ll find him and rip his spine out,” I say in a low growl.
“Alphas and their fucking hormones,” she mutters to herself. “I’d sincerely like to see you try to kill him.”
Another step and I’m in front of her, dropping my hands on either side of her and caging her against the counter. “You have no idea who I am, Kitten.”
She tips her head and reaches up, clasping her hand on the back of my neck and pulling my face toward hers. I lick my lips and prepare to pounce on her, but she rubs her nose against mine and chuckles. “You’re so cute when you’re being possessive.”
Her nipples scrape across my bare chest through the fabric of her shirt. I press her into the counter, letting her feel my erection. “Are you teasing me?”
“Maybe.” She squeezes my neck and stares into my eyes.
We trade breaths, standing there together, my hips pinned against her. Her core throbs against me, and my cock returns the greeting, aching to be buried deep inside of her. Her face begins to soften, and she searches my face, something akin to hope dancing in her gaze. I bump her nose with mine and purr, a deep rumbling sound that makes her mouth part a little. Her perfume invades my senses. Vanilla. Sugar. A hint of butter. A dash of salt.
“Cupcakes,” I whisper.
“What?” she asks, eyebrows pinching together.
“Do you taste as good as you smell?” I jerk my hips against hers, reveling in her tiny gasp. Her nails bite into the back of my neck.
“Are you always so crass?” she asks, though she doesn’t appear to be overly annoyed by my words.
“Always. Are you always so wet?” I remove a hand from the counter and brush my knuckles over the top of her thigh, dragging them up her warm skin.
Quicker than a blink, Jo slips away and puts three feet between us. She edges toward the door, running from the attraction but not my threats. “I’m tired,” she explains.
“Threatening to stab peopleisexhausting.” I nod and brush the long top of my hair back. “I’m curious, though.”
