Furore (The Night Skulls MC #1)(43)

She smiled but it didn’t touch her eyes. “Laius, I—”

“Take off your wig and contacts and shut up.” I knew what she was going to say, but there was no way in hell I’d accept it. I wasn’t gonna leave her behind. She was coming to Texas with me whether she liked it or not. She was mine, and I’d have her no matter what. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

She grabbed her jeans, fished out a contact case and put the fake hazels in it. Then she unfastened something at the back of her head and took the wig off. Giving me those doe-eyes, she combed through the cascades of cream blond and let them drop down her shoulders.

My cock jutted out as my hungry, mesmerized gaze zeroed in on her stunning beauty. One that matched her mother’s. As if I’d taken a trip back in time, I felt like an eighteen-year-old looking at the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, except this time she was mine and naked in my bed, ready for my taking.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. Like a goddamn—”

“Please don’t say it,” she sighed.

“What?”

“Any faerie comparisons, jokes or innuendos.”

“I was gonna say you were beautiful like an angel. A witch angel, if that’s a thing.”

She blushed. “Oh.”

“Is that what he called you? His fucking little faerie?”

She shrugged, her lips puckered.

“You told him who you were?” I spat, flames licking me.

“He saw me naked, Laius, and he’s too smart to lie to. I tried, but he kept asking questions. Eventually, I had to tell him the truth, which, surprisingly, he didn’t run away from, not from that anyway. He was so protective just like you.”

I wrapped my fist around her throat, and her eyes bulged. The way she was talking about him, the way her lips curved in a smile as she remembered him gnashed at me. “Don’t ever compare me to another man. It won’t end up well.”

“What does that mean?” she rasped.

“Tell me his name.” I had to know who that fucker was. I had to teach him a lesson first for hurting her and second so he’d know she was off-limits. The whole world had to know she belonged to me now. Only me.

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because…your anger…scares me.”

I read her eyes, the actual fear darkening them, and my hand softened around her throat. My fingers brushed over her hair and moved a strand off her forehead. Then I kissed her there. “You can’t be scared of me. I’ll never hurt you, Jo. I never hurt a woman in my whole life. If I could do something like that, that bitch Delilah would have been dead long ago. I never touched her or let anyone hurt her, and I hated her fucking guts. How could I ever hurt you when I…”

“When you what?”

My chest heaved with things I should never say or feel, so I just mashed my lips against hers. Then I flipped her on her stomach because looking at her was too much right now. It made me weak in the knees, made me want to say stupid shit that would make life as I knew it no more, shit that would ruin me before her beyond repair.

I lined my cock up with her entrance and slowly slid in. Her real hair had a curl to it I wrapped around my fist, and she whimpered softly as I pressed my face into her neck and pushed in.

She tilted her head, searching for my gaze, our gasps in unison as I gave her all of me. She was young and innocent and good, full of light I snuffed with ever touch, every stroke. And I couldn’t get enough.

The best part—or the worst—was that she’d take it. She blossomed in my darkness, and she’d take it until her light was all gone. As long as she was with me, I didn’t give a shit. I was that much of a selfish, cruel prick. Love was selfish and cruel. That was the only kind I knew. And I loved ruining her.

And I fucking loved her.





CHAPTER 26


Furore



“I’d tell you to stay, but it’s a dump.” I kissed her forehead and cheeks as I cleaned her up with my t-shirt and helped her get dressed.

“How long are you planning on staying in San Francisco?”

“Not long. I should hit the road right away, but I’m trying to hash things out with my boy. Maybe, I’ll knock some sense into his thick skull and convince him to come home with me.”

“Rex.” She mocked.

“Yeah, Rex. What’s so funny?”

“That can’t be his real name. Remember how you gave me a lecture about the Italian alphabet? I’ve been sharpening my Italian ever since, and I know x isn’t so Italian.”

I snorted. “His mother gave him a fucked up name just to piss me off, so since he was three, I’ve always called him Rex. It was his dog’s name when he was little, and he always said that would be his road name when he grew up.” My jaws clenched. “Except the fucker doesn’t wanna patch in. He wants nothing to do with me or the club or Texas.”

“Hey,” she folded her arms around my waist, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She held on to my cut and smiled at me. “You said he was good at literature and writing, and he’s in high school. English is what I teach, and he’s the age of my regular students. I may understand and connect with his way of thinking better than you do. Perhaps I can do something to help.”