Page 111 of Wicked Curses
When her heel connected with the wall, ending her retreat, she lifted her chin and scowled at him. Orin stopped before her, and resting his hand on the wall beside her head, he lowered himself until they were at eye level.
“You fed.” The words were more accusatory than he intended.
Her dainty one-shoulder shrug caused his nostrils to flare as his teeth ground together. He’d been waiting for her to return tohim, waiting to take her and feast like he had the last time. Waiting to lose himself to the exquisite pleasure she gave, and she’d gone tosomeoneelse.
She’d changed the game; she wasn’t playing byhisrules. He’d been waiting, and she’d turned to another.
“Was it the demon?” he demanded.
Again with thatfuckingshrug. Before he could think about how he was losing control of his emotions—something a dark fae rarely did, and heneverdid—his other hand slammed into the wall beside her head.
Wood cracked and indented beneath his palm. She jumped as her eyes widened a little.
“Did you fuck him?” Orin snarled.
She didn’t speak as her eyes remained on his. Curiosity shone in those amber depths, as did wariness and uncertainty. She’d never looked at him like that, and he’d never expected to see it from her.
Something inside him was unraveling, something dark and primitive that sought to tear this town apart. At this point, he’d gladly give in to his urge to do so, even if it meant he’d be more like the lycans he’d always disdained for their lack of control over their emotions.
He wasn’t one of those beasts. He was a dark fae with all the control and emotional distance dark fae possessed. Women didn’t get under his skin and rile him.
He’d never cared who those he’d bedded screwed before or after him. He never had, and he wasn’t about to start now… but as much as he hated to admit it, a part of him cared about her.
And he loathed himself andherbecause of it.
CHAPTEREIGHTY-TWO
Sahira didn’t knowwhat to say or how to respond. She’d never seen Orin this enraged before; she’d never considered it possible for him to be like this, given his usual indifference, disdain, and flat-out coldhearted demeanor most of the time.
His crow-black eyes glimmered with fury as they ran over her while his lip curved into a sneer. His body vibrated with barely leashed violence as his gaze returned to hers.
Despite the murder he radiated, she wasn’t afraid of him. He was a vicious, brutal killer who never let anything stand in his way, and he was staring at her like she was the enemy, but her pulse didn’t spike with trepidation.
It did pump a little faster when his scent filled her nostrils and she recalled having those arms around her in a passionate embrace. Being attracted to this man was the bane of her existence; being attracted to himnow, when he looked ready to destroy her, was insanity.
And maybe she was a little insane. Maybe this realm, orhe, had completely broken her, but she couldn’t deny her attraction to him remained as strong as before she’d watched him bounce from one woman to another for the past ten days.
She didn’t know how to respond or what to do, but she wasn’t about to back down or give in, even if her body begged for him.
* * *
Orin hadno idea what he was doing or what was wrong with him, but the idea of that demon feeling her bite, and the wildness it unleashed while she screwed him, made his blood boil.
What did he care if she screwed the demon?
He had no idea what the answer was, but her actions mattered despite his every intention to deny it. He wasn’t done playing with her, and she wouldn’t be with anyone else until he finished.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been a completely selfish prick, and it wouldn’t be the last. But it was what he wanted, and because he always got his way, he would have it, even if it meant ripping the demon’s head from his shoulders and shoving his horns up his ass.
That was how he took care of competition, and when it came to the witch, he wouldn’t allow any competitors to stand in his way.
And then an unsettling possibility occurred to him.Is this jealousy?
Was that what this ridiculous emotion battering him was? He’d heard of it but never experienced it before, and he’d certainly never felt it churning withinhim.
But that wasn’t possible. He didn’t get jealous. He’d never even been jealous of Cole, the one everyone had deemed to be the bigger, better brother.
Cole was welcome to have his over-glorified, boring role in the world while they were growing up. He got to be the brother with much more freedom and fun than King Tove’s firstborn.
