Page 24 of The Arbiter

He looks so regally handsome that I'm torn between slapping him for his comment and telling him to fuck me right here on the floor. His smile turns predatory and fangs show through.

I swear, it’s like he can smell when he turns me on.

I have to physically shake my head to dislodge those thoughts and get back to the matter at hand. Pushing past Cedric, I nudge Monroe on the way by. "Thanks for that."

"Joie de vivre, ma chérie," he replies, still smiling.

I shake my head in disbelief at him. "At least someone is getting some enjoyment out of this."

Once I'm beside the two of them, I cross my arms and glare at Enoch. "You know, I should just let him kill you. It would save me from whatever this is that you're trying to do to me." For once, I see a flicker of fear in his eyes. They’re both so strong that I wonder who would actually win in a fight. Would be lying if I said that didn’t turn me on a bit.

"Please, love," he begs.

Larkan’s head turns toward me, and I shrug. He drops his arm from Enoch’s throat, allowing his feet to hit the floor. I watch as he nurses his neck like he's trying to get the feeling to come back into it.

"We all need to talk," I tell Larkan. Looking around, I see that we've gained a lot of attention, but the crowd all avert their eyes as I meet them. "Just not out here," I add, looking back up to his face. He nods, and the four of us make our way up to my loft.

The door has barely had a chance to close before I turn on Enoch. “What the hell is your problem, psycho? What are you hoping to accomplish from making that kind of scene?”

He smirks at me. “Maybe, I’m just tired of being ignored.”

Monroe snickers from the corner of the couch as I feel my jaw hit the floor. “You’re kidding me with that bullshit, right? I know that you feel the need to be the center of attention everywhere that you go, but this ismyplace. It’s not a strip club. Do you realize just how much it takes to keep that kind of shit out of here? Oh wait, that’s right. You haven’t been around much in the past century, so you wouldn’t know.”

His nostrils flare in a sign of his anger, but I keep going anyway. “I’ve told you before that you have no place in my life anymore, and I wasn’t kidding.”

Opening his mouth to say something else, I cut him off before he has the chance to. “No. No more. I’m done with you tonight. Leave. Now.”

With a rumbling growl, he exits back out the door. Damn, that’s two nights in a row that I’ve kicked him out like that. Maybe that charm isn’t so irresistible anymore after all.

Monroe claps his hands. “Well, I think this has earned a drink.”

“Or two,” I correct him as I follow him into the kitchen.

He grabs a slim, expensive-looking bottle of wine and three wine glasses down from the cabinet. Three? A shadow detaches itself from the wall. Larkan. His presence wasn’t forgotten in my subconscious, but in my rage toward Enoch it wasn’t exactly first and foremost in my mind.

I sit down on one of the stools at the island. Larkan passes me, and I could swear that I feel his finger brush against the bare skin between my pants and corset. It’s not my imagination either because I feel tingles right after. I don’t know why my body is reacting to him the way that it is, but that’s probably not the best conversation to have in front of Monroe, though. He doesn’t seem like the jealous type, but he’s a man after all. Not to mention the whole Damned versus Rite thing. Fuck. My life is complicated.

Monroe fills our glasses halfway up, and I look pointedly at him. He barks out a laugh as he moves back to mine and pours more into it. I nod in thanks at him as I reach out to take it, noticing Larkan from the corner of my eye, watching me the entire time as I turn the glass bottoms up and drink the wine in several short gulps. Monroe, now leaning almost all the way across the counter, smirks at me as he sips his.

The silence in the room is killing me, and Larkan has yet to take his glass.Fuck it.

“You going to drink that?” I ask, pointing to the wine sitting beside Monroe.

He gives me a knowing smile and pushes it to me just as I reach for it. The result is the glass tipping sideways and spilling all the beautiful contents all over the counter. Even with his reflexes, Monroe doesn’t get out of the way quick enough. The wine soaks into his white shirt and makes it look like blood is running down his chest. He looks down at himself like if he stares hard enough, he’ll be able to wash it away with his eyes. If I wasn’t still so fucking pissed at Enoch and not drunk enough to forget about it, I’d laugh at his expression.

A few swear words leave his mouth in that sexy Cajun accent. “This will never come out.”

Stripping his shirt off himself, he turns to toss it into the trash under the sink. Just as he turns away from us, I see Larkan move from beside me. I’ve barely had time to blink before he’s got a blade underneath Monroe’s throat and is pulling him backward.

“Did everyone drink the fucking psycho Kool-Aid tonight? What are you doing?” I demand from Larkan.

Monroe’s hands are thrown up in surrender as Larkan ignores me, barking out, “Where the hell did you get that tattoo?”

Of all the things that ran through my head, that wasn’t even close to being on the list. I thought maybe he’d want to ask the name of his personal trainer before demanding an explanation for his tattoo. It’s just a tattoo, isn’t it?

I open my mouth to say I don’t even know what but close it again.

“My tattoo is what has you holding a blessed blade to my throat like your life depends on it?” Monroe jokes. “No need to get hostile. I’ll give you her name if you’re wanting to get one done.”

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