Page 83 of Sinful Mates

He lifted one hand to kiss my knuckles. “This is the one place where I’m not judged for my scars. Where they’re a sign of authority and strength.”

I smiled, glad he had one place where he felt comfortable.

He brought my hand to his face. “You make me feel like that too.”

His compliment flushed all the way to my core. He was beautiful. Perfect. Fierce. Brutal, but fair like his god.

“You’re perfect,” I told him, showing him with my lips, kissing a scar, then sucking it with my mouth, and flicking it with my tongue.

He hissed, muscles flexing beneath my exploratory touch. “You better stop that, or we won’t get to our destination.”

I peered up at him through my lashes and smiled. “I don’t mind being late.”

Out of all my mates, he was the one I spent the least time with because of the damn curse, and my body longed to be with him.

“We can’t be late. We have visitors.” A crook and flail materialized in his palms. The curve of the crook came around the back of my neck, drawing me up to meet his brutal mouth.

Crash and burn. Fire and flame. Goddess, kissing him was like being resurrected, and I rocked from the heat and intensity of it. His arm hooked my waist, lifting me higher, pressing me deeper into the kiss. My hands found his marked arms, surveying every inch of his untouched skin, committing the highway of scars to memory. Love so fierce consumed me like wildfire, and I slung an arm around his neck, never wanting to let him go. The curse kept us apart and I resented it. This was my true mate. Friend, lover, companion.

A slight sting pinched my sides. Nothing that would break me apart from him. Symptoms from our curse felt duller here as if held back by a barrier.

I crooked an eyebrow at him. “What visitors, my king?” That had a ring to it, and I should use the name more often, especially since some of my mates had affectionate terms for me. Powerful and important, and I dug it.

“You’ll find out, my queen.” Zethan traced my jaw with a finger.

Warm, desert breeze tugged at my clothing, and I glanced down at my linen dress. Kalasiris, they called it. Pleated, sheer with three layers to hide my nakedness, and extending to my sandaled ankles. Embellished with beading, feathers, turquoise, and lapis lazuli stones. A shawl over my shoulders and the tops of my arms.

Metal kissed my forehead and I touched what I knew to be a golden headdress, sliding my fingertips up the rearing cobra. The symbol of Isis. One of my many shifting forms that I didn’t explore fully, although a golden cobra emerged from me and bit two Wolves dragging me from theSummernat Rally. Asshole let me go pretty quickly.

A nasty thought sank into my mind and my stomach clenched. We were in the Underworld. Colton Raine’s domain as much as it was Zethan’s. A man I never wished to meet after the utter chaos he inflicted on the club. Bastard cost the Jackals good men and drove wedges between my men and me. I didn’t want to take another step if he laid traps for us.

“Aren’t you worried we’ll run into Colton Raine?” Planned and methodical, it wasn’t like Zethan to make such a risky move.

“That prick can’t hurt us here. It’s a safe haven and the gods won’t allow it.” His palms chased away the icy goosebumps sprouting on my arms. “Besides, that coward hasn’t shown his face for a week.”

Relief unwound the knots in my stomach. My men would never put me in harm’s way and would die to protect me, Zethan atop that list. He wouldn’t let harm come to me when he was merciless when it came to protecting my child and me.

My mate stroked my hair, his lips engraving our story on my jaw, cheeks, and mouth. Goddess, I was on my way to say the three words to him, and they lingered on my tongue, sweet, scorching, bursting. This afternoon I said I loved my bad boy bikers, something I said before when Zethan, Castor, and I went to town together.

Zethan’s hand splayed across my chest, his palm over my heart, and I felt an ancient power stir, mixing with a sacred part of my body. “Don’t hold back, baby. It’s a burden to the soul, and it wrecks me to share it with you. Be fearless like your goddess.”

Dammit. He read my heart. The depths of my soul. Did he know what I really wanted to say?

The kiss he pressed to my temple melted away more of my resolve, and the stone encapsulating my heart began to crumble.

Tears scalded the backs of my eyes. Growing up in my father’s MC, I schooled my emotions to hide them from the other members, and buried a part of myself. I guarded my heart heavier than the Pharaohs of Egypt protected their tombs from thieves and jackals hunting for food in the desert.

With Slade, the affirmation of love slipped out in a desperate and tense moment where I feared I might never see him again. Meant with all my heart, but it was easy with Slade, when he was all fire and emotion.

Zethan was completely different. Guarded, distant, he only spoke when necessary. My love for him felt trapped inside a tomb, long buried and forgotten by time, and I didn’t quite understand it. A symptom of the curse, perhaps.

Chunks of stone collapsed from the walls imprisoning my heart, and the words broke free. “I love you, Zethan.”

Hell, I said it. A declaration that couldn’t be taken back and it frightened the shit out of me to admit it. Revealing my heart left me vulnerable, and I squirmed at the feeling.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, hands knotting in my hair, holding me in place.Baby.Not Hellhound Bitch. Suddenly, I longed for my nickname.

Zethan’s mouth devoured mine, drinking my taste, my admission, tongues swirling like lovers rolling in bed. Damn, he was a good kisser. A damn good everything.

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