Savage Hearts (Queens & Monsters #3)(37)

He presses his lips together to keep from laughing and nods. “Will do.”

“And stop thinking that we’re alike. We’re nothing alike.”

He holds my gaze, looking like he’s arguing with himself over something. Finally, he says, “No, you’re not. Except for that lion’s blood that runs in the family.”

I say quietly, “Thank you for that. But I’m not a lion. Compared to her, I’m…a cub.”

“A baby lion is still a lion.”

After a moment of awkward silence, he turns and walks out.

I become more determined than ever that if it’s within my power, I won’t let Malek hurt him.

Spider will make someone a very good partner one day. He doesn’t deserve to get shot on babysitting duty for his boss’s fiancée’s dorky younger sister.

I work on my laptop for a few hours until I get sleepy. I dig the final box of Twizzlers from my bag and eat the whole thing. Then I take a shower, standing under the hot spray for a long time, thinking about everything that’s happened since I left San Francisco. Thinking about what I’ll say to Malek when I see him next time.

Because I know there will be a next time.

I know it in my bones.

Whatever’s happening between us is unresolved. I know he wants to hate me, and maybe part of him does. But there’s another part of him that doesn’t.

Judging by last night, that part of him is in his pants.

And I don’t know what to do about any of it. This entire situation is so far out of my league, I can hardly think straight.

I’m just an introvert who loves books, candy, and arguing with strangers on the internet. My idea of excitement is starting a new Netflix series. I live in one of the most exciting cities in the world, yes, but everyone I hang out with is about as thrilling as stale bread.

They’re computer geeks. Video game addicts. Coffee shop philosophers with man buns, degrees in the arts, and maybe an extra set of genitals.

Okay, that part’s exciting, but you get my point.

There are no gangsters in my world.

There’s no guns, violence, safe houses, or private jets.

Most importantly, there are no large, terrifying, beautiful Russian assassins with vengeance on their minds breaking into my bedroom at all hours of the night to overpower me with testosterone and kiss me to within an inch of my life.

I don’t know what to do.

If I called one of my friends and told them the story of the past week, they’d ask me why I was hoarding my Molly and demand I send them some.

No one would believe it.

I don’t believe it.

What I need is a plan.

Though I hate to even think like this, that’s what Sloane would do. She’d assess the situation and make a plan. A plan that would crush the competition and leave a smoking path of destruction in her wake.

The only smoking path of destruction I’ve managed to create so far has been in my underpants when Malek was kissing me.

By the time I step out of the shower, I’m a prune. I still don’t have a strategy. I towel dry my hair and body, then wrap the towel around myself and brush my teeth.

Then I wipe a clear circle in the steam on the mirror over the sink and almost die of a heart attack.

Malek towers behind me, pale eyes burning under lowered brows.





19





Riley





My reaction is pure instinct.

I whirl around and slap him across the face.

It doesn’t budge him. He simply stands there and smolders.

“It’s good to see you, too, Riley Rose.”

The husky tone of his voice suggests he’s seen quite a lot of me, most likely as I was coming out of the shower.

Heat pulses in my cheeks. Furious, I slap him again, this time with all my strength.

He licks his lips and says hotly, “What did I tell you about combat making my dick hard?”

He yanks me against his chest, fists a hand into my wet hair, and kisses me.

This is no sweet, soft kiss, like last night. This is ravaging. Demanding. Owning. As much a claim as anything else, a cocksure declaration that he can come and go as he pleases and there’s not a damn thing anyone—including me—can do about it.

I’ve never been so angry in my life.

“You smug son of a bitch!” I hiss, breaking away from his mouth. “Get out!”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is!”

“All right. But I’ll be taking a few dead bodies with me.”

“You know what? Go ahead and kill me! At least then I won’t have to deal with you anymore.”

“I wasn’t talking about you, little bird. I’ll keep you alive so you can watch me toss all your bodyguards’ corpses into a big pile and light it on fire.”

Breathing hard and shaking, I glare at him, my hands flattened over his massive chest. I try to shove him away, but it’s like trying to move a house.

“You’re a monster.”

“Yes.”

“Let me go.”

Gazing down at me with half-lidded eyes, he licks his lips. His voice turns husky. “If I let you go, the towel goes, too.”

“I hate you!”

“Understandable.”