Page 27 of Masked Fate

Home.

My home isn’t with him.

I move to walk past him, but he grabs my upper arm, and my skin tingles from the simple touch.

My body still wants him.

But it still hasn’t gotten the memo that he doesn’t want me back.

“Don’t test me, witch. I follow King Rave’s orders, and he wants you safe.”

And then he zips me out of there.

And when we land back in Aravelle, I’m fucking fuming.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Soren

You know we’re fucked when I’m the voice of reason.

I don’t know how she doesn’t see what a terrible idea it was hooking up with Salem! He’s insane. And if he didn’t leave her alone before, he sure as hell won’t now, which is why I made him forget it ever happened. I don’t usually show people what I can do with my persuasion and how powerful I am, but I couldn’t help myself.

He was fucking tasting her pussy.

And it made me see red.

Mine.

What the actual fuck?

I push that thought away and pray to the fates for some kind of mental clarity.

Pandora?

She is the furthest thing from my mind.

She is the daughter of my enemy.

She is a witch.

She iseverythingI don’t want.

“You have some fucking nerve,” she yells, pointing her finger at my chest. Her cheeks are flushed, and those intense violet eyes are wild with anger. “Who do you think you are, Soren? I doubt Rave ordered you to pussy block me!”

He didn’t. “He said to keep you safe. So sorry, but that includes being eaten by a monster. Salem is a fucking assassin, and I heard he was even pulled off duty because he keeps killing everyone he comes in contact with. He can’t follow orders and leaves every assignment in a bloodbath. He’s a cold-blooded murderer.”

I hear her mutter something about murdering her pussy, and with those words, I want to kill Salem with my bare hands.

“I’m going back,” she snarls, and my hand curls around her upper arm.

“You’re not going anywhere, witch,” I growl, pulling her up against my body. Fuck, she’s soft in all the right places and gets under my skin like no one else can. I want to spank her ass until it’s red and she learns she shouldn’t be out fucking with psychopath assassins.

She stills, letting her body be pressed against mine, then turns her face up to look at me.

“You don’t know where that mouth of his has been,” I whisper, apparently unable to let this shit go.

She rolls her eyes. “Probably fewer places than yours has been. Everyone knows you fuck anything that is blonde and willing to act like your sex slave.”

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