Page 107 of Lost Girl

Sam shrugs. "I didn't ask, to be honest. All he said was he needed to see you as soon as possible."

Heneedsto see me?

Curiosity piqued, I turn on my heel toward my woman and her little play thing. "You two, we're done here."

Tinksley unlatches yet again and peers over her shoulder. "Why? He wants you, not me."

Oh no you did not, my naughty little pixie.

I'm flashing to her in a blink, ripping her away from the puppet, her jaw in my grip. "She may have a cunt, butyouare mine. There's a ring on your finger and a collar around your throat to prove it."

"It's a choker, Cap, not a collar," she purrs.

"Seems itshouldbe a collar. That mouth, love—always has and always will be the most wild part about you, huh? What the hell did I get myself into?" I grin.

It's sneaky, sexy, and the one that pulls at her lips matches.

"You need to go talk to Tavi," she alludes amusedly, "Bet he's here about Wendy."

I’m willing to bet she’s right.

"Finish,and then send her on her way," I demand.

Finish, as in take your fill and let her go.

Playtime is over.

Tinksley nods—that grin still spreading her lips—and reaches a hand out, rubbing at my chin with her thumb. "Just cleaning you up. Fix your shirt and rake a hand through your hair—you look a little disheveled,love."

This woman will be the death of me.

"That mouth," I chuckle, retreating to the doors, forcing myself away from her before I tell Sam to show Tavi out so I can show her what disheveled really looks like.

Brushing past Sam, I do exactly as she suggested, first adjusting my shirt, then combing my fingers through my hair.

And then I’m evanescing my way to the staircase.

I can’t see him from the very top, but I can hear his pulse raging.

Thump, thump.Thump, thump.Thump, thump.

I follow the beat, skipping down the steps in tempo. Tavi’s face hardens the moment he sees me clearing the last few.

"Well, well, well. Never thought I'd see the day you would be knocking atmydoor. I'm surprised you didn't justlet yourself in." I motion around me.

"You and I both know I did you a favor, so why don't you cut the shit?" he grits, fists balling at his sides.

That temper is what gets him in trouble.

Chuckling, I stride up beside him and clasp his shoulder, squeezing with purpose. "I'm going to assume you're here about Wendy, possibly distraught about it given the obvious all-nighter, and overlook your choice of a reply. Care for a drink?"

A tight smile. "Sure."

Gesturing for him to go ahead of me, I usher him to the parlor with a guiding hand at his shoulder.

I don’t bother asking him what he’d like. This is going to be quick.

Reaching for the bourbon, I pour us both a couple finger’s worth and pass him a glass, directing him toward the wingback chairs. "Sit, please, or should I wait for you to tell me where to sit?"

---