Page 15 of V for Vindictive

His grip tightened, and then our eyes met. “She’s always been proud of you. Always.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I know.” Squeezing his hand back, I lifted my chin. “That’s why I need to keep at it. I can’t let these assholes do whatever they want.”

His smile was absolutely breathtaking. “You’re right. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

My own smile brightened before he released my hand and palmed his head. Then with a final fleeting glance, Nigel returned to his pack.

“Can I expect practically everything purchasable or evil-inclined to come after me, or…?”

This girl was basically number one on the Evil World’s Most Wanted List, and I couldn’t say I was super stoked about it. Not that I was under any impression that I could do anything to change it either.

The older Hunter chuckled and gripped the steering wheel, eyes on the horizon as color leaked into the star-speckled nightscape. The iridescent glow of approaching dawn gave the gorgeous man an almost angelic look, and I was momentarily dazzled by the sight of him.

I’d grown accustomed to being mesmerized by Sloan, but despite the time I’d spent with him, I hadn’t built any immunity to his good looks. If anything, it got worse the longer I was in his care. It was becoming a real problem. Sloan’s terms of endearment grew by the day and his passionate, utterly charming expressions were more potent over time.

And the sex had been…fucking amazing.

Fantasies didn’t come close. Typically, a fantasy was better than the reality—or that was what Kate said every time she complained about someangsty goth boy she met at a concert, usually some obscure upcoming bass player, because Kate was nothing if not predictable when it came to guys. But in this case, the reality was so much better.

Fuck, it was so good I thought about it whenever I permitted my mind to wander. Which was a lot since our night together. Sloan was a god for all I knew. A god of sex and giving a woman pleasure. I pined. I drooled. I devised ways to lure him into my bed.

Honestly, I worried I’d never get the upper hand with the Brit on anything, not now that we’d bumped naughties and I seriously considered offering myself as tribute should he ever decide he needed a sex slave.

Take me sex god. I’m your faithful bedroom ho-ho.

Unfortunately for me, I’d also adopted a sort of sex-after-fight coping mechanism to shit situations, and without Phillip to cater to my needs, I was left in this weird sexual in-between. With a gorgeous specimen right beside me, it was absolute torture.

He could be my sexual palate cleanser. We could make it a thing. I could be that girl.

Now I’m just trying to create excuses to go to Bang Town with Sloan again.

“It’s clear that more than the Organization is after you, and my guess is someone at the top tipped these groups off.”

“Groups?” I moved into a more comfortable position on the seat, my lady parts throbbing after getting lost to fantasies of what I’d do if Sloan so much as hinted at sex again. “As in, Evil-doers Anonymous?”

Sloan’s amusement reached his eyes, and he tossed me a happy little grin. The look was an instant K.O. to my heartrate.

How is this man always so damn delicious?

“Something like that,” Sloan retorted,clearly amused.

Already falling victim to his charms again, I looked out the window and focused on anything that wasn’t the stunning man beside me. I desperately fought away memories of his clever fingers stroking and scissoring, of his tantalizing tongue flicking and filling my mouth. Memories of his powerful hands on my hips as he thrust into my deepest parts, invading my body in a sweet torture I hoped would never end.

I’m beyond help.

It was several hours into our trip, no real stops aside from snack and bathroom breaks, and the other Hunter glowed like he’d been prettied up right before a photoshoot.

In form-hugging black denims and a thin tank-top, even in casual wear, Sloan was serious eye candy. But it was the tattoo along the back of his neck that distracted me every time I looked at the other Hunter.

My eyes wandered to it almost as much as they did his slim waist and shapely arms. As far as I could see, it was the only one the Brit had. His chest hadn’t bore signs of any tattoos or piercings, and his arms were also untouched. Which was all the more intriguing.

Sloan had caught my gaze stray to it at the beginning of our trip and told me it was a set of demon wings.

“Demon wings?”I had asked, tempted to touch the ink exposed along his neck. “Why demon wings?”

Sloan hadn’t look at me, and his usual smile was absent as he stared at the road ahead.“Just a reminder, love. One I need sometimes when life becomes…unbearable.”

His dark expression and sallow words made asking anything else incredibly difficult, and we fell silent for nearly half an hour before Sloan suggested we grab lunch. But his comment stayed with me even now.

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