“You have her scent all over you,” Cy commented quietly. He leaned against the wall next to me, looking both frustrated and smug, a combination I hadn’t been positive was possible.
“I was just in her room,” I leveled, knowing he wasn’t talking about that.
“No, you smell like her cum,” he mused unapologetically as my jaw clenched, not liking the idea of her being talked about like that.
Then again, whenever Arabella was even slightly turned on, it was the purest form of torture. It was like having the most delicious fucking food right in reach and never being able to sample it. It didn’t make you desire it any less—in fact, you found yourself wanting it more. Obsessing over it…
“Those bruises from you?” His words brought me from my thoughts.
“Unfortunately,” I grit out. “We didn’t—”
“Oh, I’m aware,” Cy leveled. “She’s pissed right now. If Arabella was well-fucked, she would be sleeping.”
I smirked at that, because he was right. His smile grew antagonistically, making me wonder where his thoughts were tonight, because usually he wasn’t one to fuck around.
“I mean, there is a possibility you are just that bad—”
“Fuck you,” I growled out, glad to see him at least making jokes, considering earlier. How many kills had it taken to get there? A fair amount.
I let out an exhale. “Fuck, I don’t know what to do. She knows. She knows why I’m holding back.” I didn’t have to emphasize that she was smart enough to put together that my way of thinking wasn’t singular amongst our team.
How had we lived in this perfectly crafted shell for so long? It seemed almost impossible that only now was it all coming crashing down.
Cy inhaled sharply. “There is nothing to do. There isn’t a way to fix this.”
I didn’t believe that was true. I had no doubt the universe despised me, but to curse me to love a woman that I could never fully have? Without exception? No, that would just be so goddamn wrong.
I knew this bond between us wasn’t imagined, and each year I grew more possessive over the ownership I felt towards it. I wanted her completely at my mercy, in my bed, while feeling my magic running across her soft skin as I placed her exactly how I wanted. I needed her complete surrender. I needed everything from her, including any possible fear she had. I had literally fucking got off on the fact that she had felt a barely-there twinge of what nearly tasted like fear about my shoulder injury. I didn’t think it was possible to inspire true terror in her, but everything in my being craved it.
Who was fucked up enough that they craved their potential mate’s fear?
I frowned at the other oddity that had occurred, my fingers running up my shoulder to where my injury had healed almost immediately after my time with Arabella. It would have healed fast regardless, but it was as if it had completely disappeared. I could only assume it was because my magic had fed off the slight concern she had felt for us, thinking it was fear? That was the only thing that made sense.
“What’s going on with her?” Zain appeared next to me, any semblance of his normal cockiness gone as he looked at her with confusion and concern.
It didn’t surprise me that everyone could tell something was up, considering she was not only extremely tense but also because her scent was all over me. I was the only one who had yet to shower and change, because I didn’t want to lose out on being able to feel her all around me. Hell, I could even still smell her wet heat on my fingers, and my mouth practically watered, wishing that I could taste her again. Wishing that I could lay her out on one of these medical beds and fuck her hard and raw as she came around me…
My head pulsed with the exhaustion of trying to hold onto my control. I felt like the small break in my self-control was growing larger by the moment, the flood waters seeping through and foreshadowing the disaster of me giving into the intense need I had for Arabella.
“She’s pissed because Razar made it all too clear on why he had been holding back on expressing his…”—Saint tilted his head, looking bored— “affections.”
Is that what we were calling them now? I frowned at the bastard, his frame settled into the chair next to me and Cy, watching Arabella with interest.
I had no idea what his issue was tonight, but something about what happened at the MAM base really upset him. I wanted to claim it was the fact that we’d discovered they were torturing children, but I wasn’t positive it was that.
Honestly, I didn’t even bother asking with Saint—if he wanted his opinion known, he wouldn’t hesitate to share it. Just how he hadn’t hesitated to gift her a severed hand from one of the guards tonight. I narrowed my eyes at the display sitting on a table nearby, a dark rose held between the obviously very dead man’s fingers. How he had managed to do that and be rewarded with a smile and kiss on the cheek, while I was being completely ignored… actually made a lot of sense, considering the circumstances. I’d been such a fucking dick. I was regretting ever leaving her room.
“Which means she will probably put together our reasoning,” Zain murmured thoughtfully. It wasn’t like we had been exactly subtle about our attraction to her, so I had absolutely no doubt that she was going to figure that out if she hadn’t already.
“All of it is absolute bullshit, I’ve told you that from the start.”
“She can die. We could kill her easily,” I shot back at Saint.
“No you fucking can’t,” Saint growled, sitting forward and pinning the three of us with a look. “You cannot kill her. She will not die. Trust me.”
I shook my head at his bullshit. “Even if you could bring her back—”
“It’s not even about that.” He stood up and shook his head. “But what do I know about death? I mean, fuck, I clearly have no conception on how any of that works after a few thousand fucking millenniums of handling souls, so just fucking ignore me—”
“Already am.” Zain flashed a smile.
“Fuck you,” Saint offered, seeming amused at his sarcasm while walking towards where Blackwell and Damian stood, clearly over listening to our shit. I didn’t blame him, but I also didn’t agree with him. Even if he could bring her back, I could never forgive myself for hurting her like that. Maybe the solution was to tell her how I felt, fully, and just explain that nothing could happen physically.
Right, because if by some divine intervention she felt the same and said so, I wouldn’t want to fucking attack her and put my marks all over her, stamping ownership. The few times that she had told me she loved me, even in a way that I knew she meant fairly innocently, I had all but wanted to pin her against the closest surface and fuck her in just those sexy heels she wore constantly. I had absolutely no idea why I found them so attractive, just that the image of her in only them and bent over was constantly on display in my head, causing my control to consistently weaken. Maybe it was because they were just so completely her, and I loved everything about Arabella, without a doubt.
Amun looked over, offering me an arched brow as a rumble broke through my throat.
I should have killed him that first day. Why the hell did he think it was okay to be in her bedroom while we were gone? He was already a threat in terms of being a dangerous nightmare, but then to also include his obvious desire for Arabella?