Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)(51)

Downstairs, the doorbell rings—my single saving grace, if the predatory look in his stony gaze is any indication.

For a second, his fingers flex around my neck, applying just enough pressure to rob me of my breath.

“Jesus Christ. Fear looks fucking delectable on you.”

The doorbell rings again, and his nostrils flare. He releases me with a harsh shove, stepping back and folding his arms over his chest. I take a second to study him in the mirror—noting the coarse stubble lining his chiseled jaw, the way his dark-brown hair curls slightly farther over the tips of his ears—before I turn around, quickly resituating my robe.

“Expecting company?” he asks, leaning against the pine bedpost.

Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I consider how much I should tell him about my relationships here. Clearly, the man standing in front of me is off his rocker, and far detached from the one I used to fall asleep listening to as he crooned sad songs in my ears.

Or maybe sanity is just the price of living.

Then again, if he knows enough to be able to sneak into my cabin completely undetected, odds are he knows more about my life than I’m aware of.

“Three years. I’ve thought about you all that time.”

Chills run along my spine, like an ice pick being scraped along the vertebrae.

A wicked smile plays at his lips, and he reaches up, dragging his thumb over the bottom one. My eyes catch on the Medusa tattooed on that hand; she stares back, angry like he is.

I wonder if he wishes he could turn me to stone.

“Go and let him in, pretty girl.”

I wince, and his smile widens, clearly excited by the fact that he continues to catch me off guard.

“How do you know it’s a him?”

“When it comes to you, I know everything. I’ve done my research.” His head cocks to one side, perverse amusement flashing in his gaze. “Now, do you want to tell your friend you’re unable to go to his art show, or should I?”





25





Riley’s nerves make my dick hard.

There, I said it.

Acknowledged the beast, so I might be able to get control of it.

There’s no point in exacting revenge, in making Riley’s life hell, if she stands a chance at getting off on it. And my cock really, really wants her to get off.

Over and over, with her tongue down my throat and my name on her lips.

Scrubbing a hand down the side of my face, I watch as she leaves the bedroom, the silky material of her purple robe swishing against the backs of her thighs. Gripping my knees, I take a second to collect myself and wait to hear the front door open downstairs before I follow quietly.

I see the second she registers that I’ve come downstairs; standing in the open doorway, her knuckles bleach in their hold against the frame and her spine straightens, but she doesn’t make a move to greet me.

Or introduce me to her friend.

“...was hoping you’d come to the earlier viewing, so you could help me decide which pieces to put out.”

The sound of a man’s voice—the one I recognize from the answering machine—has irritation sparking hot just below my skin, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to shove the door all the way back and stake my claim as soon as I reach them.

Instead, I slink behind the door and lean my shoulder against it, letting my weight fall into her. She clenches her jaw, working it from side to side as if my being here annoys her.

“I’m really sorry, Caleb, I just don’t feel like going out.”

Gratification swells like a balloon inside my chest.

“You never feel like going out,” Caleb says, and I despise the way he talks, like he knows her. Intimately. Clearly, I’ve been too occupied with watching her to notice those around her. “But every time you do, you end up having a great time.”

Grinding my teeth together, I inch closer to her, bound by an intrinsic need to possess her. My hand lifts, grazing the lacy hem of her robe as my index finger slips under, brushing gently over her smooth skin.

She sucks in a breath and jerks her hip, trying to get away, but I go with her. There’s only so far she can move before she inadvertently exposes me, and she knows it.

“That’s true,” she answers her guest, our intruder, and that she’s giving him attention while I’m standing right fucking here has me seeing red.

My palm drags backward, gliding over the soft curve of her ass. I pause, pinching lightly just to hear her gasp again—the sound makes my chest feel light, like a thousand butterflies taking flight inside the cavity.

“I’ll bet you don’t have as great of a time as you did in that tattoo shop with me,” I say, my voice just barely audible.

Riley coughs the second my mouth opens, covering my words while she keeps her attention on the man standing on the porch.

Pressing my lips together, I try again. “Has he made you come yet, angel? Or does he spend all his time talking?”

“Maybe you could ask Jade to go with you,” she suggests, her voice an octave too loud. Even though she’s speaking over me, her insistence that he go alone floods me with pride, loving that she’s taking direction so well already.

Her willingness will eventually make the destruction so much sweeter.

I hear Caleb exhale. “Jade hates art in all forms. She isn’t going to be any help.”