Page 137 of Aftershock
When athunkcuts through the silence, coming from Lilith’s bedroom.
With my heart in my throat, I break into a run.
30
LILITH
Ifound out who Alaric has locked up in his storage unit.
Fraser Robinson. Cybersecurity mogul. Widowed. Father to one Steven Robinson.
While Hope fussed over the frozen cookie dough and the syrup she’d prepared before dawn, I uncovered his name and gathered a little information about him, thanks to the highly illegal face recognition app I’d gotten my hands on.
Now I have a very good idea ofwhyAlaric chose him.
According to my research, Steven is a recluse, homeschooled by the best tutors.
That on its own isn’t unusual.
What set off alarms in my head was a photo of him at one of his father’s lavish company parties. The heavy makeup around his left eye didn’t fool me one bit.
That kid was beaten up, and since he was homeschooled, I had one guess who his bully had been.
His dad.
Steven’s sad, helpless expression hit too close to home, so I told Hope I had to leave early and rushed to my peephole. I had a feeling Alaric was heading down there earlier than usual. Something in his voice during our conversation had given him away.
I wasn’t wrong.
He was there.
Watching him deliver one violent punishment after another to Fraser was soothing. Healing.
None of it bothered me, as gory as it got. The slicing into his flesh, the stitches he’d sewn without anesthetic, the saline rinse—it was justice in its purest form.
It was hot too.
The veins on his hands pumped as he worked.
The tension in his jaw was lethal.
The concentration lines in the corner of his eye, the one I could see, I couldn’t get enough of them.
My breasts were swollen with need. My throat was so tight that I had to pull at the collar of my sweatshirt.
The ache between my thighs was strong enough to make me not care what Alaric wrote in his notebook.
All I could think about was getting home and playing dirty games with my doctor. Thankfully, Hope was up when I got back, so I told her I was going to fake fainting, and that if she heard a thump or Alaric losing his mind, not to worry.
Meaning, we’re blissfully alone and ready to start.
“Lilith.” His footsteps pound on the floor before the door to my room flies open, banging against the wall. “Fuck.Fuck.”
My eyes remain closed as I hear him run toward me. Cool air brushes my legs since I’m in nothing but one of Alaric’s T-shirts and a pair of panties that are already soaked.
The rush from his intense devotion…this is a whole other level of intimacy.
I hate that he’s worried, but I can’t bring myself to stop this game.
