Chapter 6 #3
Fenrir laughed. “You’ve got a good man there, War. I wouldn’t let him go.”
“He’s not mine,” War muttered. The words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and painful.
My neck throbbed, a physical reminder of the violent intimacy between us.
He was pushing me away. But then I remembered him telling me about his capture, a secret he wouldn’t offer to just anyone.
Maybe this wasn’t a rejection, but a shield.
I touched my throat, and Fenrir’s gaze followed the movement.
He cocked his head. “él hizo eso?”
Did he do that?
I swallowed hard. Were there marks? A part of me wanted to see, to know what he’d left behind.
The thought sent a confusing, forbidden thrill through my veins.
It wasn’t the pain, but the idea of him being close enough to leave a mark, of being claimed.
The concept was new and unsettling. I’d never considered rough sex, but the thought of him being that possessive . . . . It stirred something in me.
“Hay . . . . Uh . . . .” What was the word for bruises? Jeez. I had no idea. “Hay . . . marcas?” Are there marks?
“Sí.” He dropped the bread onto his plate. “Ya se están poniendo más oscuros.”
They are already getting darker. Or at least, that’s what I thought he’d said. I really needed to brush up on my skills.
I sucked in a breath when War moved, blocking my view of Fenrir.
“Enough of this,” he growled, turning his attention back to Odin. “I need to get Kit home. It’s dangerous for him here.”
Fenrir stood, revealing his surprising height. He tilted his chin toward War. “Who’s the danger? You?”
I held up a palm toward Fenrir, reaching around War’s broad body, but the words had already done their damage.
War tensed, his silence thick in the otherwise quiet room.
“Did you give him those bruises on his neck?” Fenrir pressed, poking and prodding like a man with an injured bear. War was hurting, and the more Fenrir pushed, reminding him of a weakness, the deeper War seemed to sink into a cave of anger and pity. “They weren’t there this morning.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I had to stop this. I shoved past War’s unyielding frame and glared at Fenrir, channeling a confidence I didn’t feel.
“It’s our thing.” The lie felt foreign on my tongue, but I pushed on, my voice shaking only slightly.
“I like it when he marks me. I’m his. And if he wants to bruise my neck while I’m coming so hard I see stars, that’s our business.
” My cheeks burned, but my need to protect War overrode everything else.
Fenrir’s eyebrows furrowed. “This is your thing? He said you weren’t his.”
“He’s teasing me.” I was on a roll and nothing was going to stop me. “He wanted to get a reaction out of me. I am his, and he’s mine. So, fuck off.”
War frowned at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. He’d probably never heard me speak like that. Until today, neither had I.
“The puppy’s got teeth.” Odin laughed. “You sly dog, War. Fucking your boss’s son.”
War’s silence continued.
Anxiety gnawed my insides, knotting the pit of my stomach. A man like him would never admit he’d had a flashback and hurt me by mistake. I needed to end this conversation immediately.
“I’m starving.” I grabbed War’s arm and steered him toward the table before he could say anything else. “Come on, feed me.”
He startled, shooting me a narrowed gaze.
I grinned and dragged out one of the empty chairs, falling into it.
War sighed and sat in the seat beside mine, while Loki sat on my right.
By the twist of War’s mouth, I didn’t think he liked Loki being so close to me, and a thrill shot through me at that knowledge.
The same terror that had sent me running from home two nights ago was still coiled beneath my ribs, but it had tangled around something hotter, something that wanted to test how close to the edge I could stand before he pulled me back.
Loki smirked and flipped War the middle finger.
Odin chuckled. “Loki, manners. War and Kit are our guests.”
“Prisoners,” War bit out.
“If you want to be prisoners, we can accommodate that.” Odin’s voice lowered a notch, some of his amusement fading.
I leaned closer to War. “Stop it. You’re asking for trouble. Whatever’s happening, it’ll be handled.”
He grunted but remained silent. One of the Lords, a guy with a head full of sandy blond curls and a septum piercing, set plates in front of us.
My stomach grumbled at the sight of an array of dinner foods—a mixture of meat, including beef, sausages, and seasoned chicken.
There was a large plate of bread and butter to go with it.
The server in the leather jacket returned with bowls of soup and glasses for us to fill, and I let out an embarrassing squeal of delight.
I jumped to my feet and hugged the young, curly-haired man, who stiffened in surprise. “I am starving. You are my hero!”
He chuckled uncomfortably as the room erupted in laughter, his cheeks turning bright red. He was strikingly pretty, with sharp features that contrasted with the piercings and leather jacket meant to give him a biker’s edge.
“Kit, that’s Bragi. Our prospect. He’s around your age,” Odin said.
“Nice to meet you, Bragi.” I gave him a wide grin before taking my seat again. Leaning over the table, I snatched a bottle of iced tea from the center and filled my glass.
Odin hummed. “I don’t know, War, I think the kid’s too sweet for the type of life his dad lives.”
I huffed indignantly but was too busy stuffing my face to reply. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, and the taste of the food was almost erotic on my tongue, perfectly sating my appetite.
War watched me, not answering Odin either. I was grateful he didn’t because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what he thought about my sweetness. Sure, I was a high-achieving Goody Two-shoes virgin, but damn it, I could be anything I wanted to be. Fuck them all.
I took another bite of chicken, the simple act feeling surreal.
Was this what I wanted? I was majoring in criminal justice, learning how to bring down men exactly like the ones at this table.
My goal had been to understand organized crime, not join in.
It had only been a day since I got those texts, but my old life already felt like it belonged to someone else.
War leaned in and whispered, “Eat, then we’ll go for a night walk on the beach.”
I perked up with a wide smile. “That’s a deal.”
He gave me an actual smile in return—not the polished PR version, but a real one—and my chest did something embarrassing. Christ. I was in danger, but apparently I was still capable of this. My dick was paying attention. A lot of attention.
Woof.
War wasn’t the sly dog in this relationship. I was.