Page 171 of Manacled Hearts

The others accept his answer and I seem to be the only one who heard what he said.

“Why wait until now to say something?” I ask.

“I thought I would find her by now. The challenge became greater and greater, but nothing popped up.”

Vin leans back in his chair, shrugging. “Fine. If nothing has come to light in six months, I’m doubtful it will. I’m sure you’ll keep an eye and ear out anyway.”

“Yeah.” Carter nods slowly, his gaze now fixed on a random glass from the table.

I think he does feel some form of embarrassment. How peculiar. Although, I think the man has an inherent need to know everything. This must be bothering him to no end.

“Was she pretty?”

“Morri, Jesus,” Vin says, shaking his head.

Carter scowls in her direction, but she just curls her lips inward, as Evie looks away from him, clearly amused.

“Was she?” I quirk an eyebrow, because now I’m curious.

The Carver sets his gaze on me and I shrug, not even trying to hide my amusement.

“Right, I think it’s time for a drink. If you don’t mind, Carter, I’ll do the honors. I don’t trust you won’t poison our women, or me, if you make them.” I get up and head behind the bar, not missing how the man rolls his eyes before he takes my seat.

As I pour the spirits and mixers in the crystal glasses, I steal glances at my Evie, talking with Madds on the sofa. I know Madds is close with Morrigan; they’ve known each other since she was sixteen, but his relationship with Evie is completely different. They have a friendship that sometimes is lead in silence, because these two seem to share scars they don’t talk about, but understand nonetheless. She had to do a lot of apologizing after the stunt she pulled when she went after Frankie B, but Madds felt so guilty that she got shot during the whole Bartiste thing, that he didn’t take long at all to forgive her.

I’m happy for her. She didn’t just find a new, better life in Queenscove, or love—she found friendship and family. And knowing that she has others here who are willing to protect her, go through hell and back for her, makes me feel so much better.

I’m shaking a drink when Evie rises from the sofa and my mouth goes dry at the slow, deliberate sway of her hips as her thick soled Doc Martens hit the wooden floor. The minx knows exactly what she’s doing with those long legs barely covered in sinful fishnets, the dark green, tight velvet skirt hugging her frame, and the worn band T-shirt she tucked in and cut herself into a V-neck. But she had to add that leather harness over just to drive me crazy.

The tips of her hair graze the sweet spot where the neck meets the shoulder with each step she takes, and I’m jealous, because my tongue and teeth should be doing that.

Propping her forearms on the counter, she leans in, rewarding me with her most sinful smirk.

“So, Mr. Hennessey. Will you take me to Metamorphosis?”

Jesus, she’s gonna kill me with that seductive voice. I lean in, grip her chin, and she parts her lips for me, but I barely graze them as I dip to the side, blowing a breath over the side of her neck, before I capture her soft lobe between my teeth, nipping it once.

“Only if you’re a good girl. Prove it. Tonight.” I brush the tip of my tongue over the sensitive skin just under her ear for a brief moment, before I pull back and continue making the drinks.

“Tonight? What are we doing?” Her flush is evident, even in this dim light.

“Having one stiff drink”—I slide a glass her way—“and then go home.”

She cocks her head, biting her lip as she grabs the drink and turns around, her ass swaying as she walks away.

Oh yeah, she’ll be a good girl alright.

The next hour goes by excruciatingly slow. No one needs that much time to finish the vodka sour I made, but the minx has been sipping it so fucking slow, each drop of liquid is a pawn in her erotic game. She’s deliberate in her torture.

By the time we get in the car, my breathing is strained, just as my damn cock against my trousers is. She grabs my thigh as I’m driving, coaxing me on, but two can play this game. I keep her waiting, wanting, on the whole drive home. And since our house is just on the outskirts of Queenscove, down a private road that ends in our own, secluded little bay, the drive isn’t all that short.

“Finnigan…” She says my name in a breathy voice that stirs my cock.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Evie darling. Good girl, remember?”

“But you like it when I beg,” she purrs, sharp nails digging into the top of my thigh.

We reach our gate, secured between two small cliffs, the road looking like it was carved through, and I’m ready to blast through them if they don’t fucking open quicker.

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