Page 105 of The Truths that Deceive

“I like to impress.”

Smith takes me by the shoulder and crowds me up against the door. His hands skim down the length of my body, setting off all kinds of fires. I shift into him, craving his touch, needing for him to finish what he started earlier.

Instead, he pulls the phone from my dress pocket and holds it up. “Explain.”

Chapter 29

Smith

It’s hard fucking work not feeling her up, not taking her right here and now. Not fighting for the prize of her ass, of her whole being. Not starting the chase like I fucking want.

But she’s stolen a phone.

“I’m waiting, Calista.”

The storm turns electric in her gaze. “You cut me off; I turned myself back on. What are you going to do? Hand me over?”

I lean into her, my mouth not even an inch from hers. Her breath is warm, moist on my lips, and I swear to fucking all that’s unholy I’m being pulled to her by some invisible magnet. “Maybe I will.”

“It’s not much of a threat, Smith, considering that’s the end game.”

And I turn cruel, twisting the knife with exquisite care. “Maybe if you play it right, I’ll let you go.”

It’s there, a brief flare, a weakening, a sliver of hope.

Then she crushes it down and something in my chesthurts. Like she fucking reached in and sliced into my insides deep.

“No, you won’t.”

“I can try.”

Everything goes still. Those aren’t the words I meant. It’s like I dropped the knife and offered her a key to a secret fucking door.

For the first time in my life, I step down. The hunter almost kneels, almost bows to her.

Almost, but not quite. I step down, yes. To get my bearings. “I can try, Calista. Why do you think we’re here?”

It’s a safe house, abandoned on the outside, the epitome of old warehouses in industrial Queens, and luxury on the inside. I fucking hate this place. Because all I can think about is where my daughter could have died, here in Queens.

Not the same street or the same area, but it’s still… I drag in a breath, trying to reset myself. I’m a fucking Dom, a man in control, one who likes to feed his base instincts. I like blood and breath play. I like taking down the girl to her bare bones and basic, animalistic needs. Sex and pain and pleasure.

And instead, I give her a soft chase in SoHo. I fuck her vanilla-style. I hold her.

Calista Juniper Price.

A fucking conundrum if ever I’ve met one.

The thing is, I like my submissive with fangs and claws; I like the prey who can fight to the death, bleed and draw blood in equal measures.

In short, I fucking like her.

She comes up to me, keeping the space between us minimal. “How did you find me?”

“How the fuck do you think? Reaper told me. Orion told me.”

“Did you speak to Dakota?” She frowns.

“No. I came foryou, not a relationship beyond redemption.” I pause to rephrase my words. “We’re as good as we need to be and my father-daughter mess isn’t your concern.”

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