Page 133 of Emylia

Lightning lit the sky, the smell of smoke surrounded me.

Gods, I'd set something on fire.

A knock sounded on my door.

My head snapped up. “Shit.”

I pushed myself from Sebastian’s clutches, throwing my dress over my legs and putting a breath of distance between us. “Can you please do me up?”

Sebastian licked the two fingers he had used to delve into me. “But you taste so damn good.”

“Sebastian, please.” My words were panic-stricken.

Sighing, Sebastian pushed himself to his feet. Not wasting a second, he tied the laces of my dress with expert ease.

There was a second knock on the door.

“Just a second,” I yelled out, my voice cracking mid-sentence. I whipped around, facing Sebastian. “Where’s your shirt?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He shrugged a second time, offering no help whatsoever. Sleepy Sebastian was so fucking frustrating.

“Make yourself useful and help me find one.”

“I thought I was being useful.” Sebastian smirked as he sampled each finger that had just tasted me—this time with far too much enjoyment.

Without thinking, I flipped him off and spun toward the drawers, rummaging like I’d been possessed.

“If you don’t open this Gods-damn door,” Maalikai’s voice roared through the wood, “I’m going to break it down.”

My heart literally stopped.

Oh no.

No no no.

This was going to end so badly.

“Just—just give me a second!” I shouted, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

I turned to Sebastian. “Are you going to help me or not?” Desperation edged every word.

“Truthfully?” He leaned against the dresser like he had all the time in the world. “I’d much rather watch you squirm.”

“Of course you would,” I muttered.

But to his credit, he dropped to his knees, yanked open the bottom drawer, and pulled out a shirt. He rose to his feet just as the door exploded inward, shards of splintered wood flying.

“What the fuck?” Sebastian growled, going rigid.

“That was more than a second,” Maalikai said, his voice a thunderclap of fury.

His eyes raked over Sebastian’s bare chest with a level of disdain that could rival the wrath of Ezekiel.

“Got a problem?” Sebastian asked, already squaring up.

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