Page 97 of Kill Feed

“Dante, he has a Ring door camera.”

“I’ll go in from the back,” he adds, unwavering.

Jesus Christ, can this night get any worse? He can kill the fucker for all I care, but not like this. It’s too risky; he knows this.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t ghost me,” I claim, and that gets his attention. Thank fuck. “You said—”

“I had work.”

“That’s your reason?” I scoff. “Bullshit.” He gets so possessive with the idea that someone else fucked me, but what about him? Who knows how many women and men he entertained during his absence from me.

The idea alone makes my fucking blood boil.

Dante grabs me by the collar of my jacket, pressing me against the bike, almost tipping it. “So what? You go cry on another man’s shoulder, get yourself assaulted just to fuck with me?”

Get myself assaulted? Is he fucking joking?

“Go fuck yourself,” I bite back, and I can see the man reconsidering his words. I retaliate anyway, “You think that’s what I wanted. You think that’s what I came out here to do? I told you, I didn’t want him… I hated—”

My sentence gets clipped as his mouth crashes into mine with the brutal urgency of a predator that hasn’t tasted flesh in weeks, and I return the favor, equally starved for his attention. A sense of relief washes over me, replaced with a hum under my skin bursting with warmth.

“He’s going to die for what he did,” Dante states as he pulls away, catching his breath before peppering my jaw with kisses as he murmurs, “You’re only fucking mine.”

I groan with each touch of his lips to my skin. I bury my face in his neck as he continues down the line of my jaw. The scent of him burns my lungs as I draw in a deep breath, and it’s dizzying how good his body feels against mine.

Dante pulls away, grabbing my face, peering down into my eyes as the color returns to his, but the devil still stands behind them. “Anyone who fucking touches you is as good as dead. Understood?” he says in a husky tone.

“Same goes for you, asshole.” And I fucking mean it. The idea that he’s spent all this time fucking other people brings up the same hostility he presents. If that was what he was even doing, but what else?

“If you touch someone else—no, so much as look, I’ll kill you,” I state with the full heartening truth. I can accept the fact that I want him, but what I won’t accept is him fucking someone else.

“Noted,” he replies, shoving the gun back into his belt behind his back. “Does this mean you finally accept that we’re dating?” Charm fills his features like he wasn’t murderous mere seconds ago.

“Yes, fine… we’re dating,” I say, looking over my shoulder and wiggling my arms. “Now, fucking untie me already.”

He only scoffs at that, grabbing my face and sliding his thumb into my mouth to keep me from speaking. I return the favor by biting down, hard enough for him to grunt without causing any real damage.

Thunder rolls in the distance as droplets start to scatter from the sky. Dante peers up, wiping rain from his face before letting go of mine. He proceeds to pull me up by the arm, turning me around and slamming my chest onto the seat of my motorcycle.

My hands ball into a fist as rain starts to pour down, soaking the soil and road in a shimmer. Is he seriously going to fuck me on the side of the road? Not to mention that we are mere meters away from Gideon’s house. It’s pitch black out, but still.

“I said, cut me the fuck lo—”

My words die down in my throat as I feel Dante’s hand on mine, followed by the sound of a blade. The biting pressure around my wrists releases as the cable ties fall to the ground. “There, better?”

I turn to face him, rubbing at the indents left on my skin.

One second the street is only cold and empty, and the next the sky splits open, water slamming against the asphalt hard enough to blur the streetlights into streaks of gold and white.

My jacket sticks to my skin almost instantly, yet Dante doesn’t seem remotely bothered by the sudden rainfall. If anything, the weather sharpens his features.

Drops cling to his lashes and roll down the cut on his mouth, his blond hair darkening as it falls messily over his forehead again. His eyes brim with a possessive heat. Warmth warped by a hint of madness that stains the deep tones of his irises.

“We can take this further in my Jeep,” he says, voice rough under the rain. He jerks his chin toward the opposite side of the street. “Right there.”

I glance over and spot the black Wrangler. A grin pulls at my mouth before I can stop it, but it falters just as quickly. “Gideon’s house is right there.”

Dante scoffs, stepping closer. “I don’t give a shit,” he says, rain dripping from his jaw. “And besides, sweetheart, it’s parked out of view from his house.”