Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
LILLY
“Would you excuse me, Lord Thompson,” I say, desperate to find a way out of this brunch. This is my fifth “date” so far, and right now I’m ready to punch this pompous ass in the face—and if I have to hear any more about the thriving economy in Florida, I might actually do it.
He straightens the jacket he’s wearing, “Oh, uh… it’s Thomas .”
“Right, sorry. Would you excuse me, Lord Thomas?” Sure, he’s sort of handsome, but short and lanky just isn’t what I’m into. Or receding hairlines. Or nasally voices. And especially not pretentiousness. “I seem to have forgotten…” I begin sweetly, but can’t find an answer. Fucks to give? That I need to be anywhere but here? I curve my flattened lips into a smile and, with nothing else coming to mind, give him another “Excuse me.”
I turn on my heel and start to make my way out of the garden area where we had been dining. I’m actually proud of myself for not leaving earlier. I twist around the hedges and past the fountain, making a beeline for the massive French doors leading back into the main house. Once inside I walk the halls of the manse without any particular destination in mind. I needed to clear my head.
Garrick’s ‘plan’ isn’t working. The suitors he’s set me up with have all been… terrible. How do you not like cats? I let out a sigh as I find myself in front of another Study, the overflowing bookshelves of the room drawing me in like they had a rope tied around my waist. I shut the door on my way in and lean back, letting my head fall and closing my eyes. The room is comfortingly quiet, and not a single eligible bachelor in sight.
“Not enjoying Lord Thomas’ company?” I straighten instantly as I realize I’m not alone, and my eyes follow the question to the male relaxing in a sofa chair in the corner. He closes the book in his lap, and begins to stir a cup of coffee on the small table next to him with his finger. Steam begins to rise in lazy wisps. I don’t think I would have ever imagined this from the High Lord. Violence, torture, some gruesome battle with his wings splayed out around him as he destroys his enemies? Sure. But reading quietly in the corner? Not a chance. Of course, there’s the other imaginings of silk sheets, lit candles, sharp teeth, and wicked hands… I try to blink away that particular thought from my mind.
My arms cross against my chest and I jut out my chin. “Did you actually expect me to?”
He frowns, moving the book to the table as he stands. “Why wouldn’t I?” He says, and Gods is his voice like melted chocolate.
I huff at his question and turn away, doing my best to ignore that his white shirt is unbuttoned at the top. Perfect tan skin peaks out and tattoos weave across the open space. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and more black ink traces his muscled forearms “I don’t know,” I say, focusing my attention on his face. “So far you’ve set me up with a guy who hates cats, another who likes cats a little too much, and another who asked me if I eat cats. And today we had the Duke of Florida with sinus issues and a receding hairline.”
“Lord Thomas has his quirks,” he shrugs, taking a step towards me. I’ve suddenly forgotten to breathe. “And aside from Lord Titus’ tastes , he’s quite pleasant. I’ll do my best to pick someone better suited to your tastes next time, though.” He’s barely a foot from me now, and the words purr against my skin.
“Good,” I breathe out the word. It’s barely a whisper when all I can think about is how Garrick dominates the space between us.
“Why don’t you tell me what it is you want in a mate?”
I lick my lips. What do I want in a mate? “I…” but I can’t conjure a single fucking thought with him so close. I breathe in the scent of him—sage and frosty air—and my eyes close.
“What do you want, Lilly?” he breathes into my ear, his lips just barely caressing the skin. A lightning storm snakes though my core and I can’t help the whimper that escapes my lips. His chest presses against mine as my back hits the door. I fist my hands too keep them exactly where they are—not in his hair, or his skin, or ripping the shirt off his back.
When I feel his canines graze against the side of my neck I lose hold of any of the arguments I might have had. I am putty in his hands, and he can mold and form me into whatever he wants. My back arches and I press against his solid form—I want all of him. My thighs ache with a need like I’ve never experienced.
“Oh you are trouble,” Garrick says, pulling himself back and putting space between us. The world comes back into focus. Shit, shit, shit, what did I almost just do? Embarrassment heats my cheeks and the resolve to never let that happen again solidifies. I straighten my back and shove him further back.
“What I want,” I say, grinding my teeth. “Is to be left the hell alone.”
Garrick chuckles as he digs his hands into his pocket. His eyes have darkened with a want mirroring my own, and I almost lose my resolve at the sight of them. This man could set me ablaze and I’m not sure I would give one single shit. But that's not going to happen. “Find someone better next time,” I say with a final huff, before storming from the room. All I know is that if I stay in that room one more second I will do something I can’t take back.