Page 63 of Thirst
“I don’t understand.” She lifted her eyes to mine, pushing her curls back with a shaking hand. “He thinks I’m helping you?”
She looked so confused and unhappy that I felt a fresh twinge of guilt. But this was war, and her sire was the one in the wrong here, not us. Play this right, and we could finally take the motherfucker out.
“Maybe,” I said. “My guess is that he’s not sure, but he has to be wondering how a human could’ve taken out both you and Jerome. And Jerome’s phone burned along with his body, so Nazaire can’t track it. Your phone, though…”
“You—!” She swore in French and lunged for her phone. “Give me that.”
I lifted it above my head. “No.”
She launched herself off the cot, hands clawed, going for my eyes. I tossed the phone on the cot and grabbed her by the arms.
She reared back and slammed her head forward, aiming for my nose. Again.
I dodged right and she hit my shoulder instead. She reared back a second time, but I’d had enough. I spun her around, twisting her arm behind her back, and shoved her face-first against the nearest wall, cheek pressed to the hard stone.
I put my lips to her ear. “I wouldn’t piss me off if I were you.”
She bucked against me, trying to throw me off, grinding her ass into my lap. We both went motionless. My dick pulsed against her crack. Those thin, stretchy pants didn’t hide much.
My lower body moved before I realized it, rubbing myself against her round globes. Her glutes clenched. I groaned, low and ragged, and did it again, a slow rotation of my hips that dragged the aching head of my cock over her firm bottom.
It was dirty and all kinds of wrong, but I was angry and aroused and my body was thinking this was Nyx, who liked it a little rough. It wouldn’t be the first time we’d wrestled for control.
She emitted a harsh exhale. “Get off me.”
“No.” I kicked her feet apart and thrust my thigh in between hers, testing. She was warm, the soft fabric damp.
I cupped her mound with my free hand, and her body arched, pressing back into me. I chuckled darkly, and she tensed.
“Knock it off,” she gritted.
I touched my lips to the delicate knobs of her spine above the blue cashmere sweater. “Doesn’t feel to me like you want me to stop,” I said against her soft skin. “It feels like you want more.”
Her throat worked, her body sagging against the wall. “Are you trying to break me? Is that what this is?”
I stilled because her tone didn’t match mine at all. She sounded…bleak.
Like I was the asshole who’d imprisoned her and figured he could get his rocks off without her consent. With a sick, injured woman.
Something hot and tight balled in my chest.
Bringing her bent arm down, I released her and stabbed my finger at the cot. “Sit.”
She didn’t obey, of course. Instead, she slid behind it, keeping the thin mattress between us. But I noticed she leaned on the wall for support.
I dug my fingertips into the bridge of my nose. “For the love of Lilith, sit down. I won’t touch you, alright?”
Her lip curled. “And when I’m better? What then?”
“Not then, either. That’s not why I brought you here.” I blew out a breath. “Look, I was out of line. It won’t happen again—you have my word.”
Her gaze moved over my face, assessing my truthfulness. Then she gave a jerky nod.
I gestured at the cot. “Now, would you please sit?”
“I’m fine.” Her mouth thinned. “I know what you’re up to, Mister I’ll-Give-You-Sanctuary. You want my father to know I’m on Lilith Island. You don’t care if he thinks I double-crossed him. You’re trying to goad him into coming for me.”
I gave a single, unrepentant nod. “All true.”
