Chapter Ten
I wouldn’t call that day a good day, but it was a simple day, the kind where nothing went wrong, no one pissed me off, and the voices left me alone. After filling myself with scrambled eggs and home fries, I spent the day in my office doing menial work until the sun went down and I called it a day.
The light on the lift lit green over each number as it climbed the floors to the top of the building, and a prickle of dread came over me.
The voices were still silent. There was no warning to accompany the trepidation with which I stepped into the hallway and punched in the code on a keypad to unlock my front door.
I reminded myself that this building was secure, that my penthouse was a fortress that took a doorman and an access code to reach, and that there was an army of security guards between those two barriers to entry.
I crept toward the bedroom and turned on the light. I did not scream, but my next swallow got caught in my throat and my lungs forgot how to work for thirty seconds.
Lounging in my bed with his shoes on, Rook turned his head to me and smirked.
“Good day at the office?”
“How the hell did you get in here?”
I wanted him to be a hallucination. I wanted years of restless, sleepless nights to have finally driven me batty. Unfortunately, much like the voices, I was sure the man in front of me was real.
He pushed off the bed and perused my room, eyeing the red and gold wallpaper and the black accents that matched my bedsheets.
“I knew you lived in a penthouse. Nice place, by the way.”
“How the hell did you get in here?” I repeated.
He snorted. “Your security sucks. The doorman can’t even detect a basic cloaking spell and I caught one of your guys sleeping outside the elevator.”
I pulled out my phone, glancing up occasionally to keep an eye on Rook, and texted Gray.
The doorman and elevator guard on duty are Fired.
With a capital ‘F.’ Gray would know what I meant.
Gray: Copy that. Need backup?
I have it handled.
When I put my phone back in my pocket, Rook was still in place by the window, watching me with bright eyes.
“Why are you here?” I asked. “And why shouldn’t I kill you?”
“It would be such a mess in your fancy bedroom,” he laughed, gesturing to the luxury around us. “And I’m here to offer you a truce.”
“No.”
“Then you’re an idiot,” he said. “We’ve cost each other money, I killed you once, and you failed to kill me. Let’s just call it quits.”
“No.”
He shrugged. “Okay, then I’ll keep killing you until I figure out how that little trick of yours works, and we’ll exhaust ourselves until we go crazy.”
I couldn’t tell if he was serious. That was the problem with his snark—I could never tell if he was very cocky and actually threatening me or fucking with me and making me the subject of some inside joke.
But if he was serious—if he would attempt to kill me over and over again—it was a risk I couldn’t afford.
“What would this truce entail?” I asked.
He made himself comfortable on the edge of my mattress. “You don’t kill me, I don’t kill you. No physical harm, and we don’t mess with each other’s businesses.”
“So we just share the city?”
He crossed his arms and smirked. “Didn’t your mom ever teach you to share?”
I bristled at the mention of my mother. “We just ignore each other?”
The bright blue of his eyes shifted, darkened. He stood and stalked toward me, and even though I was a little taller, I had to fight the urge to step back when he stopped in front of me, as if he towered over me. He reached out a hand that did not hesitate and rested it against the side of my neck.
“We don’t have to ignore each other.”
I told myself to pull away. I told myself to punch him in his beautiful face, but I was trapped between his gaze and the warmth of his skin, and I did not move.
“Get the hell out.” My voice was so hoarse I had to clear my throat afterward.
“Kiss me again and I’ll leave.”
Everything about that statement confused me. Why would he want that, and why did I have the urge to lean in? What if I didn’t want him to leave now that he was touching me, so I didn’t kiss him? Where had my rational thoughts gone?
Our eyes locked, and neither of us blinked. “I honestly cannot tell whether you are rage-baiting me or flirting with me right now.”
He smiled and I glimpsed his gleaming white teeth. “Can’t it be both?”
The tendons of my neck pressed against his hand as I shifted, but I still couldn’t bring myself to pull away from him. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I have a theory.” He moved his thumb up and down my tense muscles and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to push further into his hand.
“What is your theory?”
“You liked that kiss as much as I did.”
I tried to pull away then, and his fingers gripped around the back of my neck and held me in place.
“You’re absolutely mental! I tried to kill you. I hate you.” When I struggled against him, his fingers dug into my skin.
“Fortunately for you, hatred isn’t really a deterrent for me if I want to fuck someone.”
“I don’t want to—”
He slid the hand that wasn’t holding me down my chest, past my belt, and cupped it around my cock. I gasped as I hardened under his touch.
“Are you sure about that?” He squeezed slightly and every thought I had rushed straight to my dick, to how it would feel in his hand if there wasn’t fabric between us.
“You need to leave,” I said, a slight tremor creeping into my voice.
He leaned close to my ear, his breath ghosting over my face and neck. “Kiss me and I will.”
He pulled back and used his death grip on my neck to tilt my head at the angle he wanted it, and then his lips neared mine until they paused an inch from touching.
He wouldn’t take that kiss. If I wanted him gone, I’d have to give it to him.
I wanted him gone, didn’t I? His lower lip was slightly full in a way that would have bent me to his will if he’d pouted at me with it and been anyone other than my enemy.
His fingers loosened, then fell to his side. I was free now to make a choice.
I closed my eyes, leaning forward and erasing the space between us. I was not one to call anything electric. My life had little excitement or pleasure. I existed to work, to gain money, and above all, to solve the mystery that had haunted me since I was a child. I lived for goals and nothing else.
But the moment our lips touched, I felt a jolt.
Rook must have felt it too—he deepened the kiss with no warning.
His tongue slipped against mine, forcing itself into my mouth and I let him, as if I could fool myself into thinking it was a conscious decision; as if I could convince myself with our mouths tangled up and hungry that he had no power over me.
One of his hands slid around my ribs to pull me closer, and the other, which was still pressed against the bulge in my trousers, began to rub up and down, applying more pressure along the length of my cock.
In response, I nipped the tip of his tongue, and he groaned into my mouth.
With that one hand, he unfastened the button of my pants and slid his fingers into the fabric of my underwear, seizing my cock and stroking it in long, languid measures.
I wrapped both my hands around the back of his neck, gripping him like he might go somewhere, even though I didn’t think there was a chance he would run from this. His strokes quickened, driving me mad. I swelled under his touch, suddenly aching, desperate for release.
“That’s it, England, let yourself go.” His lips attacked me again, tongue exploring my mouth. His fingers moved faster, pressure increasing, driving me toward…I was going to…
He didn’t stop kissing me as I came in my pants, coating his curled fingers in my semen.
When I finally broke away from him, panting, his eyes were heavy-lidded.
But they widened as the moment ended and he withdrew his hand.
He did not sever our gaze, and I watched the motions of his tongue as he licked his fingers clean.
“See you around, England.” He kissed my cheek as he walked around me and out the door. “And lock that keypad down with a spell. Numbers are way too easy to guess.”
I stood perfectly still. The room did not tilt. My head did not spin. Everything was eerily calm, utterly silent. But something fundamental shifted somewhere beneath my feet, leaving me unsteady where I quaked in the charged air he left behind.