Tall, Silent & Lethal (Pyte/Sentinel #4)(138)

“You’re going to prove it,” she said with a determined glint in her eye as she reached up and pushed him back.

“How exactly am I supposed to prove that?” he asked, more than willing to do anything to make sure that she knew that he would never hurt her.

“You’re going to bite me,” she announced as she shoved him back again.

Well, almost anything.

“No,” he said with a hard shake of his head as he moved to step around her, but she wasn’t having that.

With one last push he found himself stumbling back and falling on the couch. Before he could get up, Cloe, na**d and still wet from her shower, was climbing on his lap and straddling him.

“Yes,” she said, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him back when he tried to stand up.

“No,” he said, placing his hands on her h*ps to move her aside.

She sighed as she settled more comfortably on top of him as she dropped her hands away from his chest and reached down to grab the hem of his shirt. “Yes.”

“Not gonna happen, mein Schatz,” he said, moving to stop her, but she simply used the move to pull his shirt up until he was left with no other choice but to lean forward so that she could pull the shirt off the rest of the way. It was either that or allow her to rip the shirt clean from his body and judging by her expression, she’d been seconds away from doing just that.

“You don’t want to bite me?” she asked casually as she pulled her long beautiful chestnut hair up and twisted it into a loose bun, drawing his attention to her neck where her pulse beat at a hypnotizing tempo.

“No,” he lied, swallowing hard as he forced himself to look back up and meet her determined grey eyes, “I don’t.”

Smiling coyly, she leaned in and brushed her lips against his. “Liar,” she said, pulling back before he could savor the feel of her lips on his.

“I’m not going to bite you,” he said firmly, leaning in to kiss her to distract her from this asinine plan of hers.

She leaned back and with a little sigh and a shake of her head. “I think you will.”

“And why is that?” he asked, wishing like hell that she’d just drop it, because he wanted nothing more than to slide his fangs inside of her while he slid himself between her legs.

“Because you owe me a redo,” she simply said, as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“A redo?” he repeated dumbly, trying not to groan at the feel of her fingers going through his hair.

“Mmmmhmm,” she said, leaning in and kissing him again. “A redo.”

“And what exactly are we redoing?” he asked, placing his hands on her h*ps to pick her up and end this.

“The night that you bit me,” she explained calmly, threading her fingers through his hair, “I want a redo.”

He didn’t want to think about that night, never mind relive it.

“Why?” he asked, reaching up to trace the back of his knuckles along her jaw, wondering why this was so important to her.

“Does it matter?” she asked, not quite meeting his gaze.

“Yes.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. She just sat there, running her fingers through his hair. Just when he was about to press her again for an answer, he smelled it.

“What is that?” Cloe asked, sounding nervous. Frowning, she quickly folded her arms over her br**sts to cover them as she caught the scent that had sent him running in the first place.

“The main reason that I was checking on you,” he said, all his focus on the window where the scent of shifter was coming through stronger than ever.

“What is that?” Cloe asked, swallowing nervously as he helped her climb off his lap.

“Grab your clothes and go to the others,” he said, moving past her towards the open window where the scent of shifter was becoming stronger with each passing second.

“But-”

“Go!”

“Christofer, I-”

“Goddamn it, run, Cloe!” he snapped, abruptly turning around, fully prepared to throw her out into the hall if that’s what it took when he found himself stumbling off balance.

He felt hot liquid dripping down his stomach. Numbly, he looked down at the tip of the blade sticking out his chest. He looked up at Cloe just as she screamed.

“Run,” he said hoarsely as a second blade rammed through his chest, piercing his heart and sending him into oblivion.

*-*-*-*

“Christofer!”

“Shhhh, none of that now,” the man that looked vaguely familiar said as he pulled one of the large hunting knives out of Christofer’s back, making sure to keep his gaze locked on her.

Before she realized what she was doing, her fangs had shot down and she was going for his throat only to come to an abrupt halt when he pulled out a gun and aimed it at her stomach. Fear for their baby had her ignoring the need to rip his throat out, but just barely.

“I see it’s true,” the man remarked casually as he openly studied her. “I guess that means that everything else is true as well,” he mumbled to himself, his expression turning worried. “He’s not going to be happy about this.”

“Who?” she demanded, risking a glance down at Christofer only to force herself to bite back a sob when she spotted the large, thick black handle of the knife sticking out of his now pale back as more blood pooled around him, soaking into the beige carpet.