Reckless Souls (Saints Academy, #1)(36)
he catches me by complete surprise when he drags the tip of his tongue over the same spot his nose
just ran.
“At the age of twenty-two, a vampire's blood already begins to transform, a slight nick, a little
taste, that’s all you need to know if you will become one. I’d be able to taste it,” he murmurs against
my skin, causing bumps to prickle the area.
The party is happening so close, but it’s like it’s just the two of us, completely lost and absorbed
in our own bubble. “How do you know the difference?” I find myself asking, too intrigued, too caught
up in the moment, and desperate for him to stay this close, his smoky scent intoxicating me.
“One drop of a vampire's blood when in the throws of passion is like being on the biggest high.” I
swallow at his words, my chest arching into him slightly so my peaked nipples graze against his
chest.
In his next move, he runs his teeth over my exposed skin, and I moan, unable to hold it in.
Holy fuck.
What is he doing to me?
My body is reacting to his words before my brain can even play catch up.
Leaning back so he can meet my gaze, our noses almost brushing as his emerald greens meet my
sapphires. “You’d like that wouldn’t you,” he states, not a question, but a fact, and all I can do is gape
at him as his large hand touches my thigh at the hem of my skirt, and slowly rises, taking the fabric of
my skirt along with him.
Goosebumps rise in his wake, anticipation clawing at my insides as he flicks his tongue out and
drags it across my bottom lip. I feel like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move, bracing for
the impact, but wanting it all the same regardless of the consequences.
“What are you doing to me?” I ask, the words slipping from my lips before I can even process
them myself, and he scoffs, stroking a finger down my cheek as he searches my soul through my eyes,
intruding on my internal thoughts with little effort.
“I think I’m supposed to be the one asking you that question,” he murmurs, his breath fanning
across my face, and I don’t know who moves first, and frankly, I don’t give a fuck, but in the next
breath our lips collide.
My fingers instantly reach for his dark hair, scraping my nails along the base of his scalp as his
hand on my thigh rises, and his other hand grabs my waist, just below my breast.
His touch makes me feel empowered and small in his grip all at once.
The bark at my back bites into my skin as his thumb drags along the apex of my thigh, a mere
breath away from my core, and I arch up into him, letting him take, when someone starts to clap,
breaking the moment and pulling our lips apart.
Blinking up at him as he stares down at me with a swirl of emotions brewing in his eyes, I’m sure
mine are reflecting the same in response. It takes a moment for us to pull apart, both of us trying to
catch our breath.
“Zen, get your fucking ass over here. Khaos broke first. I want my winnings because it wasn’t
fucking me,” Adonis hollers, his voice far louder than it needs to be.
Khaos.
Mr. Asshole is Khaos Black.
He takes a step back, raking his fingers through his hair as he takes a deep breath, eyes still fixed
on me, and I turn to my left to glare at Adonis.
“Stop shouting, motherfucker,” Khaos grinds out as the two other guys appear behind Adonis.
“You don’t get any winnings, idiot, because you’re causing a scene,” the guy with mousy blond
hair says with a sigh as he comes to a stop beside Adonis, flicking his gaze between Khaos and me.
Zen.
The one that literally radiates calm is called Zen. I was right.
That leaves the broody guy who comes to a stop on the other side of Adonis. He’s in a pair of
jeans with no top on, and fake claw marks covering his chest and abs.
Xander.
“What’s going on?” he asks, ruffling his hair as he frowns at me.
“Khaos was nibbling on a snack, weren’t you, asshole,” Adonis gripes, and I can’t tell if he’s
angry or happy about it.
Either way, I need to get out of here and fucking think about anything other than his body against
mine.
“Adonis, baby, what are you shouting for?” As if conjured by the devil himself, or me in my
costume, the supreme bitch appears in all her glory.
Flanked by her two friends that I don’t care to know any more about, she struts to the center of us
all, dressed as a sexy, bloody nun, and I want to gag. She slowly moves toward Adonis, lifting her
hand to his chest as she tries to figure out what the commotion is all about.
I’d rather not be around for the rest of this, but one step from me has a twig snapping and her gaze
instantly twists to me.
“You. What are you doing?” she says with a glare, hands on her hips as she looks from Khaos to
me and back again. “I warned you not to touch what’s mine, I—”
“Shut the fuck up, Selene,” Khaos bites, swiping a hand down his face, before storming from the
woods without a backward glance.