Chapter 13 Mine #3
“Why am I here if you have no information today, Lucas?”
“Not every week will be a goldmine,” he said. “We’ve been fairly successful so f—”
“If you have no information, why didn’t you page me? I didn’t have to come tonight. I look at that damn pager every day, and it hasn’t once gone off.”
“I—”
I threw up a hand. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
“You asked—”
“Ah! What did I just say?”
He blinked several times. Pretty eyes. Dark lashes. Then he stepped closer, danger glinting at the edges of his expression.
I swallowed against a suddenly parched throat. An instinct buried deep inside screamed at me to run away. He was a fox, and I was nothing but a dumb bunny locked within his sights. Still, my anger refused to relent, and I remained glued in place while he stepped closer.
Then closer still.
“You come to me,” he said, voice low and even, “because I asked for you. Because I am committing treason for you, and the only thing I asked in return was that you be here every Thursday night to learn whatever I choose to teach you. You seem to have forgotten your role here, Sophia. You are mine to command. Mine to instruct. Just mine.”
By the time he finished his speech, he was standing so close I had to crane my neck to look him in the eye.
My heart pounded against its bony prison as he stared down at me, unblinking.
My fury had only grown hotter, sparking in my skin like a live wire.
“I don’t belong to you,” I said, but it emerged all wrong—thready and cracked, like even I didn’t believe it.
He smirked, humorless. “You’re mine. Just ask Uncle Theo.”
My hand curled into a fist. Before I could rethink it, I swung.
He caught it, then twisted and jerked my arm behind my back. In a flash, my front was pressed against the wall, his body a cage around me.
“Never attack in anger,” he said beside my ear, his peppermint breath ruffling strands of my hair. “You will always lose.”
“Let me go, you bastard.”
He pushed a little closer—a warning—then released me. I fled toward the dark living room.
“Next week, drop the attitude.”
I stared daggers at him through the darkness. When I pulled my attention back to my full-coverage clothes lying beside the front door, I shuddered at the idea of smothering myself in the suffocating heat. “I’m not wearing these.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not! It’s more suspicious to be wearing winter clothes in the summer!”
“You will cover yourself, or you’re not leaving.” His tone was final.
“Like hell I’m not leaving.” I stomped toward the exit.
With a whack, a knife whipped through the air and buried in the wood of the door, right in front of my face. Frozen, I watched it vibrate, the silver glinting in the low light, before spinning toward him, eyes wide. “Where the fuck were you storing a knife? You could have killed me with that!”
“Put on the hoodie.”
I crossed my arms. “No. It’s too hot.”
His jaw clenched. With sharp, precise motions, he jerked his sleeveless hoodie over his head.
He took off his shirt.
He took off his shirt.
He just…took it off.
And threw it at me. I barely caught it.
“Wear it. Now.”
A vicious wave of heat rolled over me, paired with the sensation I’d edged too close to a steep and dangerous precipice. I tried to avert my eyes, but the gloom wasn’t deep enough to keep my gaze from touching his mouth…throat…chest…all the way to the happy trail disappearing beneath his joggers.
I was broken. Defective. Self-destructive and sickeningly attracted to things that could hurt me.
I forced myself to put on his shirt. My skin had grown too tight for my bones, my ribs too narrow for my heart. I wanted to run and collapse and cry and scream all at the same time.
“Hood up,” he said.
My desert-dry throat constricted as I lifted the hood over my head, hiding the curls.
His low voice slithered through the shadows. “Your life is worth more than your comfort. Never forget that.”
“You could have hit me with that knife. Do you realize that?”
A pause, and then, “If I wanted to hit you, you’d be dead.”
A blink was the most coherent response I could manage. I slipped away in silence, heart thrashing like a wild animal.
When I arrived home, I gave my lack of information to Theo, showered, then found Jayden perusing the café for a snack.
“I want you,” I said into his ear.
Brows lifted, he let me drag him to my room. I ripped off our clothes and fell into bed. Closing my eyes, I ran my hands along strongly muscled arms, trying to get lost.
He kissed the right places, making me squirm. Shivers of pleasure arced through my nerves.
He parted my legs, settling between them, but as the frenzy built, bright eyes flashed across my mind. No! I shook my head, trying to evict him. It worked as Jayden’s deep, honey voice rumbled my name against me.
Then, the bead of sweat attacked my consciousness. In my thoughts, I acted on my fantasy, pressing close to Lucas, touching his vulnerable throat. He spun me against the wall.
No.
I lost the momentum and tried to rebuild.
But there he was again, his lips wandering down my neck…chest…stomach.
He dropped to his knees, gazing at me with a crooked smirk and those ocean eyes.
Burning near the threshold, I turned to breathe in Jayden’s skin. He smelled…expensive. I suspected he had a hoard of old colognes he’d stolen from homes he’d raided. He smelled good, but he didn’t smell like—
The rhythm changed, and Lucas eased my shorts down my legs, fingers stroking while his lips kissed up my thigh.
“Oh, god,” I murmured.
The thoughts couldn’t be banished, not as he picked up my leg and hooked it over his shoulder, not as his pretty eyes met mine while he teased me with his tongue, not as he held my gaze when I came apart against his mouth.
I spasmed in real life. The wave crashed hard, and the picture in my mind embedded, carving a permanent, secret place in my fantasies.
My joints went lax until Jayden finished and rolled to the side. I stared wide-eyed and unblinking at the ceiling.
What… what did I just do?
A dark chuckle whispered through my head, like he knew exactly what he’d done to me.
No, no, no.
I shook myself and focused on the man in my bed. “How was your day?”
He laughed. “Better after that. Been a while, girl.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind. Tell me about your day.”
I closed my eyes as he described a successful raid he’d expected to go poorly. My mind drifted through it.
“I’m telling you, it’s like we know every move they’ll make right before it happens.”
My eyes snapped open. “Maybe it’s a coincidence.”
“I don’t think so. Someone’s spilling secrets. I wish I knew who. I’d like to shake the man’s hand.”
If Jayden suspected we had a spy, then maybe the Hunters suspected it too. Worry squirmed inside me. “If he has secrets to spill, that means he’s a Hunter. You want to shake his hand?”
“A Hunter traitor? Hell yeah, I do.” He yawned. “You mind if I sleep in here? Ryan’s in my quarters tonight, and he snores.”
I was lucky that no one had taken my private quarters from me after my parents died.
It was only fair to share with him. “Sure,” I said, but I stayed awake long after he’d fallen asleep, contemplating my situation and general lack of common sense.
By the time I drifted off, I was convinced it had been a mere glitch.
I didn’t want Lucas Scott.
I didn’t.
Did I?