Chapter 2 #2
“You know she’s not fine. We can fight later.
She’s fucking injured, and I don’t want to hurt her by making you bring her down here,” Saint growled, looking authentically pissed.
I let out a scream as Razar suddenly shifted into his human form, and I clung to him as he dropped into a crouch several stories down, barely jostling me.
When I looked up into his gaze, I felt concern saturate my emotions.
Razar looked…pissed. But not just pissed. Hurt. And more than anything, tormented as he stared down at me. “I hurt you.”
“No,” I insisted, knowing where this was going with him. “I promise, I’m fine—”
“She’s not,” Saint grunted, approaching as Razar let out a deep, threatening sound.
Honestly, the man was fairly intimidating, and I obviously wasn’t one to scare easily.
I wiggled, and he let me down from his hold and pulled me fully against him.
Something I always enjoyed because he literally completely eclipsed me.
Razar was an objectively massive nightmare, his 6’7’’ frame overshadowing mine, making me feel both dominated and protected almost always.
His bronze skin was covered in faint red sparkles that almost seemed embedded, brought out by the dark shirt stretched across his chest that was now back to being made of warm muscles.
His crimson eyes, which were ringed in burgundy, stared at me with so much intensity mixed with possessiveness that it had me wondering how I was just coming to terms with the very obvious fact that Razar was more than just into me.
No, he really, really wanted me, and I could feel how hard he was against me.
If only he realized how possible it was for us to be together now, how much I wanted him as well.
My hands lost the battle as I ran my fingers through his midnight-colored hair, which was shaved short to show off his dark earrings and the tattoos that crawled up his neck to the back of his skull.
The man was so dangerous looking, from his human form to terror form, but instead of inspiring fear like he did in most humans, he just turned me on an impossible amount.
He practically purred while leaning into me…
before tension ran through him and he yanked back, offering me a searing look of concern.
I stilled as he gently brushed off my shoulder that had scrape marks on it from the cement tunnel.
He then used his thumbs to brush my tears off my cheeks as I watched guilt and self-hatred saturate his gaze. Oh no. That wouldn’t do at all.
“Razar, I am perfectly fine,” I breathed out, “and not just with the injury thing.”
“He hurt you also,” Razar rationalized softly, his forehead pressing against mine. “He killed you, Arabella. Even if you came back—”
“It’s not like that, exactly,” I murmured as he pulled back and offered me a confused look. “I’m not…I’m not a human, Razar. Not fully.”
“What?!” he demanded, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.
My gaze moved over his shoulder to Saint, who was watching all of this with interest, though when his gaze landed on me it was filled with undisguised heat.
The man offered me a shit-eating grin that made me realize that he was barely rattled by what had occurred between him and Razar…
although it didn’t seem to translate to the way his gaze kept going towards my shoulder in concern.
His dark charcoal eyes seemed to shift with shadows as the metallic silver rings that lined them, similar to mercury, thinned. I swear, they seemed to expand and shrink depending on his mood, making him seem all the more expressive.
Honestly, it wasn’t fair that someone like Saint was so damn beautiful, between the thick long lashes he had and black wavy hair that was streaked silver throughout until the ends which were almost completely dipped.
The silver sparkled under the lighting, like the diamond glint his skin had that contrasted his stark death motif tattoos, ironic religious onyx crosses, and dark clothes.
Everything about the man appealed to me, and it had me wondering just how it was that he managed to pull off such a casual look while being ‘death’ itself. I mean, hadn’t he literally just been using his magic? He barely looked ruffled!
“It’s sort of a long story.” I nodded towards the set of doors. “But I would really like to get some help to handle the ever-growing problem outside and keep the institute safe before discussing how I survived Saint.”
That sentence alone sent chills along my skin in the best way possible.
Razar inhaled sharply. “You aren’t going in there.”
“I am,” I said firmly as I heard the elevator doors open. Oh wonderful.
“You are not,” he growled.
I inhaled and patted his chest. “Razar, babe, you gotta trust me. Please?”
Honestly though, I would rather he be bossy than worry about my shoulder.
I knew in theory I should have been upset about the fight they got into, but here’s the thing: my men weren’t humans.
They were nightmares. They were monsters.
I couldn’t apply that same standard of social behavior to them, and it wouldn’t be fair to.
I loved them for who and what they were—it was that simple.
So their dominance fight didn’t upset me past the fact that I was concerned about their well-being and if Razar was mad at me, which he didn’t seem to be. So that was good.
“What do you need to trust her about?” Zain’s voice was bright and curious, clearly having not cued into the tension permeating the space. “I always trust Bella.”
Really? I narrowed my eyes at him as he offered me an innocent look that I called complete bullshit on.
He hadn’t needed to tell any of them about what we were doing down here.
I had asked him to get the security code, and he had instead recruited the team to come down here.
Now he was just trying to pretend like he hadn’t done anything wrong, but the twinkle of mirth in his gaze told me he was completely aware of what he’d done.
The man should be happy he was so damn handsome, because I was pretty sure that was why he got away with so much shit.
I mean, it really was unfairly distracting.
His massive shoulders were shown off by the uniform shirt he was wearing, his posture more tense than normal despite his easy smile as he eyed the door behind us as if it were going to explode.
He ran his tan fingers over his dark, trimmed beard that contrasted his blood-red hair.
On either side of his temples were dark runes that ran along his face, and his bright, neon icy blue eyes watched me with interest as he examined the way Razar was crowding me.
If he thought Razar was going to stop me, he was sorely mistaken.
I always listened to my mens’ advice, but at the end of the day, if I thought something was a good idea, you better believe I was going to do it.
“What are we doing down here?” Damian appeared next to Razar, his gold eyes running over me with interest as his barbed tail wrapped around my ankle, causing my breath to catch.
His hot pink hair caught my eye, seeming to be sparkling with gold in contrast to his massive onyx horns that I always wanted to grip onto but somehow managed to resist.
I wasn’t positive how long that would last now that I knew why they had been holding back… In fact, I absolutely knew it wouldn’t last. I was already thinking about how I could climb him like a tree.
The man was slightly taller than Razar and far more lean, the legend terror looking every bit the prince of Hell that he was. I could see the genuine curiosity in his gaze, and I had a feeling that Zain hadn’t told them anything about why we were down here, but more so, about Saint and me.
Man, this was turning out to be such a shitshow.
Although, it really was better they knew I was okay before they attacked Saint again… I loved the guy, but he really didn’t have a fantastic hold on his temper. In fact, I was surprised he’d held back so much when fighting Razar.
“Arabella is going to tell us why she thinks it’s a good idea to go into the high-security cells and recruit help,” Saint mused, looking suddenly far more entertained than before.
“Fuck no.” Blackwell growled before adding, “Plus, I am more interested in why—and more importantly, how—she has been marked by Saint.”
Razar let out a low rumble but didn’t say anything, his eyes darkening with enough emotion that it distracted me from their echoes of surprise at his statement.
“Can we not?” I looked towards the man who had asked the question.
Blackwell, the son of the Greek god Hades, watched me with a look that felt like he was about a second away from attacking me, and I was starting to realize just what Saint’s point was earlier…
Once they knew, things would change. Sure, some of them—mainly Razar—would probably be in denial, but I had a feeling Blackwell would believe it, and I was all too in love with the idea of letting him pin me to the wall with his massive 6’9’’ frame until he fucked me unconscious.
I was cool, even if he wanted to brand every inch of my skin as he ran his olive-toned fingers over it. I couldn’t help but remember the way his normally neat oil-colored hair had been messy after he’d called me a brat and spanked me, trying to convince me that he was holding back for my own good.
Nope. I refused to accept that.
His black eyes flashed gold for a moment, making me know he was aware of where my thoughts had gone, as I fought the urge to go up to him and kiss him hard while smoothing my thumb over the scar through his left eyebrow.
The man looked like a classic piece of art, and it was dangerous for my entire being to be around him.
“You marked me; why is it a big deal if Saint did too?” I asked, knowing now was not the time. Also, could we just comment on how unhelpful Saint was as he stretched his hands above his hand, looking like the cat who ate the canary? Asshole.