Page 105 of Peacock Me Like a Hurricane

He grins wickedly. “Christ, I hope so. I’ve been trying hard enough.”

“Maybe I was feeling some of your rage, too.” That is very possible. This is the only connection that I haven’t figured out how to seal off yet.

His face drops, and he gapes, sputtering. “Oh, Christ, I didn’t even think of that. Talia was unprepared and got hit with a wave. She went ape shit.”

I shrug. “Guess itcouldget attributed to a random serial killer or. Or the mob, maybe, or a cartel.”

“Huh?”

“A sizable group of people in the woods... Splat.” I sigh. “If they hadn’t run, I wouldn’t have been so pissed. I might have killed them. Maybe.”

Snickering, his eyes dance with wicked glee. “Have I told you that I love you, baby?”

“Yep,” I grin, “but you can tell me as much as your weak heart desires.” I peck his temple, my heart swelling with fondness.

~Love the killer kitty in you, baby. ~

His nose rubs against my skin as he nuzzles the mark on my neck.

Head tilted, my response is low and throaty. “I love the demon in you.”

“I wish I’d been there—killing, feeding, the blood of the innocents and all.”

Whispering, I correct him. “You’re always with me—all the time and everywhere.”

“I know, isn’t it neat?” His expression is boyish for a moment, then it grows wistful. “Here, though, I meant in a more bloody and physical way.”

“Yeah, but you would have leaned against a tree and watched me get pissed, running about. You’d be no help at all.”

“Bloody right, I would,” he growls. “More running equals more jiggle for the step.”

His priorities make me giggle and my eyes dance. “I see you leaning against a tree smoking and ogling me as I run around all smeared in blood and gore. You lech.”

I can tell he’s imagining it as his eyes swirl and the growl that rumbles out of his chest. “Hell, yeah, love.”

My arms tighten around him, grinning with mischief. “You’d get all worked up and end up doing it.”

He rumbles, grinding his hips against mine. “Christ, baby.”

Images fly through my head at light speed, followed by sensory impressions that rock my entire body. I groan, digging my fingers into his shoulders, barely able to hold on. Holy fuck. When did he learn to dothat?

I feel the Beast rising, lumbering to the surface. “Fucking hell.”

His grin is pure evil, and it makes me shiver as he growls. “Welcome to the life of a killer, baby.”

Rubbing my cheek on his with an answering rumble, I rasp, “We should do that.”

“Now?” His expression is indulgent, like he’s agreeing to go to a tea party with the Queen rather than hunting people to a bloody death.

“No, but sometime soon. I’m way too comfy here right now.”

He snarls at me with his fangs bared to provoke Her. My fangs drop in response and he yanks me onto his lap to straddle him. Hands scrabbling, he separates the shirt and squeezes my breasts hard. My thighs spread to hug his hips and red lines spring up on his chest as my nails rake. I hiss as his fingers and palms grope. His hips grind against mine and he lowers his voice to a rough, gravelly tone. “Yes—rough baby. Show me.”

Images slip into my mind and I feel him courting the Beast, drawing Her out. Without warning, I swoop down, tearing into his shoulder as my claws rip into his hips to hold on. He roars and we join roughly. His arms band around me and hold, holding me close enough to sink his fangs deep into my breast.

~Yeah, baby. Mark me up; I’m yours—your killer kitty. ~

I whisper into his mind as I slide the sharp claw tips down his back.

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