Page 99 of Scarlet Wars
Especially since the US and Canada had reached a cease-fire thirty-six hours ago, on the condition that American soldiers stayed out of Canadian territory and Kanata C magi stayed out of US territory.
More specifically:“Emma Thompson, or anyone affiliated with her.”
So yeah. I was anxious about Caden still being there, beneath the bubble, for whatever reckless, infuriating reason he decided was worth it.
Didn’t exactly help that I’d been thinking about him non-stop.
Thinking about the way he’d held me during my weakest moment, his arms iron-strong around me, his body a furnace of heat and steadiness I’d wanted to melt into even when I shouldn’t have.
Thinking about him telling me what he’d do if I were his, every word laced with a possessiveness he had no right to claim.
And then, when I couldn’t sleep, my mind filled in the rest.
His hands—broad, calloused, devastatingly sure—would find me in the dark like they were made for it. I could almost feel them: one sliding up to the base of my throat, fingers wrapping around enough to remind me who was in control; the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise, dragging me closer, his thumb tracing slow, possessive circles against my skin.
Every touch would be measured, a perfect balance of restraint and hunger, steady enough to make me trust him, rough enough to make me tremble.
I’d imagine the look he’d give me before that first touch, the kind that burned straight through my defenses. His eyes would darken, heavy-lidded, molten with want and warning all at once.
It would say everything his mouth didn’t:You’re mine.
Then his fingers would start their descent, dragging over the swell of my breast, down my ribs, the flat of my stomach, until they hovered at the waistband of whatever flimsy barrier I still had left. Each stroke would be slower than the last, meant to torture, to make me arch into his hand before he’d even given me what I was begging for.
And his mouth—Gods, his mouth—would follow, leaving heat and ruin in its wake. His breath would fan over my skin, a warning before the first graze of his lips. He’d kiss the hollow of my throat, the curve of my shoulder, the soft underside of my breast, lingering there until I was shaking from the effort of holding back a sound.
Then lower—his tongue tracing every shiver he caused, his teeth grazing, his lips catching, sucking, marking until I could no longer tell where I ended and he began.
He wouldn’t just touch me; he’dconsumeme. Every sigh, every moan, every desperate plea. I could see him taking it all like it was owed to him, like my body was a secret he’d spent his whole life waiting to uncover.
And I knew beyond reason or doubt: that man wouldruinme for all others.
Which isexactlywhat I couldn’t allow to happen.
I had to get that man out of my head. Out of my blood. Out of the places he hadn’t even touched yet but somehow already owned.
For fuck’s sake, I had less than a year to figure out how the hell to escape the deal I’d made with the Chiefs, and instead of focusing on survival, all I could think about was this one dark First Offensive with whiskey eyes.
I needed to get over him.
I had to kill the pull between us before the Chiefs decided to do it for me.
Which is why those infamous words slipped out of my mouth.I need to get laid.
Sean and Jackson froze in sync, like two malfunctioning robots, their glasses of Scotch hovering mid-air, amber liquid glinting dangerously close to spilling.
“Yes! That is a great idea!” Saoirse’s voice rang out, too loud and too gleeful through the Nexus. She was sprawled across her bed at Crown, clearly enjoying herself while eavesdropping on our Scotch night in.
Sean blinked at me, then at Jackson, then back again, before muttering, “I think I speak for the both of us,” he gestured between himself and Jackson like a man making a doomed presentation, “when I ask ye who ye’d consider to be…laid with?”
“Considering she left you and my Leader stranded in the woods without so much as an explanation the other day—only to portal out alone withCaden—I’d say she’s aiming for your First Offensive.”
Sean shot him a look. “Or maybe she was simply trying to not get killed after being shot at.”
“Still doesn’t explain the vanishing act,” Jackson muttered, crossing his arms. His frustration from that last mission obviously still clung to him.
I downed the rest of my drink, the burn easier to face than the truth. I wasn’t about to tell them about my moment of weakness, and I was beyond grateful Caden clearly hadn’t told them about my panic attack. “I already told you. Something came up.”
I refilled my glass with Scotch.Again.
