Ruthless Creatures (Queens & Monsters, #1)(56)

It’s official. Chris has gone off the rails.

“And it’s not me you should be afraid of. I’m just a guy who wants what’s best for you. I can tell you, Nat, with one hundred percent certainty, that what’s best for you is not Kazimir Portnov.”

So he knows Kage’s real name. He has found out about him.

That makes my anxiety explode into panic.

If Kage finds out that Chris went to the feds, and the feds now have eyes on him…maybe he won’t come around here anymore.

Maybe I’ll never see him again.

I’m panicked for the space of a few heartbeats, then I’m consumed by anger.

How dare this guy—who I barely spent a few months with, who I never even screwed—pull this petty, territorial, caveman bullshit.

I step back across the threshold of the open door, grab the shotgun propped up against the wall in the corner, and stand facing Chris with the barrel of the rifle gripped in my left hand, the buttstock resting on the floor.

I say firmly, “This is private property. My property. I’ve already asked you to leave, but you haven’t. So not only are you harassing me and scaring me, you’re trespassing. And considering our past relationship, your obsession with my neighbor, and your history of stalkerish behavior with the constant drive-bys—which I’m sure your boss could track from your phone or the equipment in your squad car if he needed to—it would look very bad for you in front of a jury if I felt compelled to use this weapon.”

His eyes bulge. His face turns red. He sputters, “A-are you th-threatening to shoot me?”

“I don’t know, Chris. Check to see if I’m glancing up and to the right.”

After a moment of stunned silence, he says loudly, “You bitch!”

That almost makes me smile. If nothing else, it makes me feel better for going all Rambo on him. “Charming. Now get off my porch before I put a hole in your chest big enough to see daylight through.”

He clenches his fists. Steam billows from his ears. He stands there shaking in rage until he spins on his heel and stalks off, cursing.

I’ve never been much of a gun enthusiast before. I only have the thing because my dad left it behind when he and my mom moved. But right now, I’m feeling all sorts of Clint Eastwood tough, and all it took was resting my hand on this weapon.

This weapon that couldn’t blow a hole through anything, human or otherwise, because it isn’t loaded.

As Chris peels off down the street in a cloud of smoke, I stand in the open doorway, unsure if I want to laugh or cry.

I go to bed depressed.

When I wake up sometime later, it’s still dark. The room is silent and still. For a moment, I’m disoriented, listening hard into the darkness and wondering with a little flutter of panic inside my chest what made me wake up.

Then my heart starts to pound, because I realize I’m not alone.

Someone else is in the room with me.





22





Nat





With a yelp of terror, I lunge for the nightstand beside the bed, yank open the drawer, and pull out the first solid thing my hand closes around to use to defend myself.

Then I scramble back against the headboard and shout, “I have a weapon!”

The lights flick on.

Kage stands in the doorway of my bedroom.

Shadows nestle in the hollows under his eyes. His dark hair is disheveled. He’s wearing black dress slacks, black leather shoes, and a fitted, button-up white dress shirt that accentuates the beautiful architecture of his upper chest and arms.

From the neck to the hem, the entire left side of his shirt is saturated with blood.

He says, “We need to have a talk about self-defense, baby. You can’t scare away an intruder with that.”

With a faint smile, he gestures to what I’m brandishing at him:

My big pink dildo.

I toss it away, leap off the bed, and run to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders and burying my face in his neck. “You’re here!”

He winds his arms around my back, pulling me tight against his chest. His voice is a low, pleased rumble. “I’m here. Did you miss me?”

“No. Not even a little bit.” I snuggle closer against him, as close as I can get, dragging his scent into my nose and shuddering a little in happiness.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Liar. Give me your mouth.”

I tip my head back and immediately get his lips on mine. He kisses me voraciously, holding me tight.

When we come up for air, I say breathlessly, “Why is there blood all over your shirt?”

“Because some asshole shot me.”

Horrified, I pull out of his arms and stare at him, looking for holes. “What? Oh shit! Where?”

“My shoulder. Relax. It’s barely a scratch.”

“Scratches don’t bleed like that! Let me see—take off your shirt!”

He smiles indulgently at me, as if I’m a fussing baby. “Not even sixty seconds in the door and she’s already trying to get me naked.”

Hands on my hips, I glower at him. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room. And get your shirt off before I have a heart attack.”

His smile grows wider. “And you say I’m bossy.”