Page 25 of Broken Pact

And I don’t fucking like it.

It’s the only explanation for what comes out of my mouth next.

“And he’s a fledged member of the Reapers, Grant. So if I were you, I would grab your friends and get the hell out of here.”

“What did you just say to me?” he growls.

“She said, get the fuck out of here.”

14

CORALINE

I almost weep with relief. I don’t know what happened, and if I have to think about it later, I might cite divine intervention, but right there, over Grant’s left shoulder stands a fully-fledged Rosewood Reaper. He’s not wearing his kutte, but everyone in the surrounding counties knows all about the Reapers.

I jump at the opportunity, sliding free from underneath Grant’s dominating presence and practically leap into Jagger’s side. “Here he is. My boyfriend.” I stress the word enough, glancing at Jagger and wiggling my eyebrows to mentally communicate that he needs to play along.

His face softens when he looks at me. Lips curling into a soft smirk and eyes sparkling with mischief. Two hours ago, and I would’ve scoffed at the expression, but I’m clinging to it like the lifeline it is.

“Bull fucking shit,” Grant drawls. His body seems to oscillate between anger and smugness. “There’s no way she’s with you. You’re not her type.” he rocks back on his heels like he’s got something over on Jagger.

Jagger arches a brow and tosses his arm over my shoulder, curling me into his chest. “I don’t really give a fuck about your opinions.”

Grant’s friends finally pick up on the shift in conversation and the newcomer. The four of them huddle behind him, creating an intimidating wall of muscle. Grant looks from his left to his right, catching the eyes of his buddies. There’s a silent conversation happening between them, and I’m not sure what Jagger’s thinking. But all I can think about is how the hell we’re going to get out of this.

“Yeah, well unless you can prove it to me, you’re not going anywhere with my girl.” Grant shoves his hands in his pockets, entirely too pleased with himself.

Revulsion wraps its hand around my throat. His girl? Give me a fucking break. I take a step forward. “Prove it to you? I don’t owe you shit.”

Grant’s face shifts into a sneer, his nose almost pointed with derision. His buddies mirror his aggression, the four of them jerking their chins up high.

“Nah, it’s alright, baby. The man wants to see what he lost. Who are we to deny him such an . . . honest request?” Jagger’s expression never changes but I can see the tension in his shoulders as he shrugs. Without so much as an eyebrow waggle to clue me in, he turns toward me and palms the side of my neck.

My lips part on a surprised exhale at his touch.

“Hm,” he hums lowly, sinking his fingertips into the hair at the nape of my neck. Goosebumps scatter down my spine at his possessive hold. He gives me time, a few seconds to pull away or turn my cheek.

But all I can do is close my eyes and lean into him.

His lips melt against mine in a kiss sweet enough to hurt my teeth. The world spins and tilts on its axis the moment his lips touch mine. Electric pulses spark from my fingertips as adrenaline pours from my veins.

It’s a kiss that tastes like freedom and rebellion. Like a storm brewing on the horizon, one that has the power to flatten me.

His lips are softer than I remember. His bottom lip poutier than his top. I pull back, thinking that’s it. But his grip on my neck tightens, his hand shifting from around my shoulders to flatten against my lower back. He pulls me flush against him, His tongue slipping between my lips in a single stroke.

I lose myself in this kiss. All sense of time and place just cease to exist like they were never there in the first place. In fact, everything falls away until the only thing that’s left is the way I feel right now.

The way his kiss makes me feel.

Eventually, he slows, pulling back. Much to my chagrin, I chase him for more, eyes closed and breath ragged. A low noise reverberates against my lips as his mouth brushes along mine.

I open my eyes slowly, his eyes the first thing to come into focus. Deep, endless pools of darkness. I’ve tripped and gotten lost in those depths before. And it’d be all too easy to drown in them. For the first time, I think I understand why people wax poetic about looking into someone’s eyes. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or the exhaustion or some sort of biological chemical reaction to that kiss.

Jagger’s thumb brushes along the sensitive skin underneath my ear. A soft stroke upward and downward. His gaze searches my face, a question written in the way his brows fall over his eyes.

My lips close slowly—too slowly—but for the life of me, I don’t know what to say to him.

Turns out, I don’t need to say anything. He hums under his breath, sliding his calloused thumb along my neck once more before he slowly straightens up. He keeps one arm around my lower back, using it to curl me back toward his chest.

---