Page 51 of Blood

Our breath comes in pants. “How do you want me?” I ask, pulling my top over my head and standing utterly bare before him. This is it, no going back. It will change everything.

“On your back, legs splayed. Let me look at you.”

My legs barely have the strength to carry me the couple feet to his bed. I crawl over the comforter and roll to my back, planting my feet, my legs bent at the knees.

“Spread those legs for me, Rogue.”

I shift my feet wider apart.

“More,” he demands, aggressive possession thickening his tone.

I drop my knees hesitantly, opening myself to his mercy. It doesn’t matter which club we belong to or what led us to this moment. My body and mind are finally in sync, accepting the only truth that matters right now: we both fucking want this.

“You’re not a Devil or a King.” He kneels on the bed, grips under my thighs, and jerks me down the mattress toward him. “You’re a queen.” He kisses his way up my calf, knee, and thigh.

“Does that make you my King?”

“No, baby, it makes me the lucky bastard who gets to worship at your throne.” His teeth bite down where my tattoo paints my skin, and the rush of pain drugs my blood.

“Give me all you’ve got.” I arch my back, sensations sparking through every inch of me. His warm, wet tongue swipes over the indents, soothing the burn.

“Why aren’t you mad?” I’m breathing heavy and desperate for him to move that mouth to my pussy, but it dawns on me that he’s been so fucking bent out of shape over Tyler and not that I’m a Devil or that I have the tattoo. I grasp a hand into his hair, drawing his gaze to mine.

“What?” His brow furrows, lips wet and gleaming, cheeks flushed.

“You’re not mad that I have a Devil tattoo.” I bring my legs together against his colossal frame. Silence, his lips move, but words don’t come out. He’s trying to think of something to say, a lie to placate.Oh my god.I sit up and scoot myself backward away from him. “You already knew?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

“Liar.” I gasp.

A growl climbs up his throat. “I didn’t know all of it.”

Holy shit. “What does that mean?”

My heart freefalls into my stomach.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“We’ve met before…”

An alarm blares into the room, and Callan leaps from the bed, zipping his pants. “Put your clothes back on.”

“What is it?” I hurry off the bed, picking up my discarded top and sweatpants.

He checks his phone, frowning. His glare cuts to me, racking over my attire to make sure I’m covered before he marches to exit the room. My stomach knots I race toward him, grasping his arm. “What is it Callan?”

Grinding his teeth, he holds up his phone. The moving image is of the outside of the compound. The front gate is in focus and there, waiting beyond its walls, a car.

“There are cops at the gate.” He sneers.

CHAPTER18

COPS AND MONSTERS CALLING

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