Page 100 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
I can’t wait for Demi’s body to go entirely limp after I’ve fucked her brains out. The little Hunter won’t know what hit her.
She’ll be screwed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Demi
The next afternoon, after another workout with Alissa, Colt shows up at my door.
“Hey,” I say, resting my hip against the door. “What’s up?”
“You’re not going to invite me in?” His green eyes bore into me, and I try not to fidget under his scrutiny. Colt is intense.
“I hadn’t planned on it, no.”
His lips kick up. “Here I thought you wanted to learn how to shoot.”
My stomach flutters in excitement, and I fight the urge to smile like a fool. “I do.”
Nodding, he brushes past me, making my breath hitch when he leans into the touch. Amber and musk fill my nostrils, further infiltrating my defenses and resolve to keep Colt far away.
“Hey, I didn’t say you could come in,” I berate him despite feeling flustered by him being near.
He casts a glance over his shoulder. “You need to change, and I’m not waiting in the hallway like some jackass.”
“You and Eddie Murphy do share a striking resemblance.”
“What?”
I shake my head. “Never mind.”
He lost points for not getting the Shrek reference.
I realize Colt not keeping up with human cartoons isn’t a valid reason to make strikes against him, but I needsomethingto knock him down a bit.
After changing into a pair of cargo pants and a black T-shirt and pulling my hair into a sleek ponytail as Colt requested, I swipe mascara on because who said you can’t be pretty and badass? Besides, the black lashes will match the guns.
Colt is lounging on the chaise, lazily drawing circles over the cushion as he watches me emerge from the hall. His eyes drift over my body, darkening slightly.
When he doesn’t say anything, I sigh.
“Well, is this what you wanted?”
He stops tracing the circles and sits up, resting his elbows on his thighs. Now filled with heat, his gaze slowly takes in every inch of me. A flush skates up my neck in response and I look away, unable to watch as he visually strips me of clothes.
He has to grovel for forgiveness first, remember?
“It’ll do.”
Scoffing, I yank on my combat boots and scowl at him.
It’ll do.
Asshole.
I follow Colt out of the apartment and to the elevator. He surprises me and hits the button for the third subfloor. I’ve never been to this floor, so I’m keen to learn what it holds.
The doors swish open, revealing a small black painted lobby with a large desk smack in the middle. Behind the desk is a wall and one door.
