Page 51 of Steel Rain

Was she talking about Kieran O’Malley? The guy wasn’t in the same stratosphere as her. Much less in the same league. The idea that O’Malley could protect her better than she could protect herself was laughable.

“I could run away. Guile will marry me.” She leaned up like the first part of a sit-up, her lips almost against me.

“Harrison Guile? The guy you beat in the octagon?” I raised a brow. No man that she could beat was worthy of her. Not by a long shot.

“He let me win!” She shook her head with an exasperated laugh. “He did it to help me. That’s something.”

"He's not good enough for you," I told her, my fist clenching at the insinuation.

"And who is?" Her angular brow shot half way up to her hairline like she was some damsel in an old black and white film. "Kieran O’Malley, maybe?"

I scoffed, "Please."

My nose flared, like a bull before it mauled a matador. My heart pounded in my ears, as I repressed the fire she was igniting inside me.

She looked up at me, her eyes as cold as ice, and just as pale. "Then who?"

There was challenge there. Did she want me to take her? Did she want me to fight her?

I wanted to pin her limbs down until she was ready to confess every thought in that cryptic, mysterious little mind of hers.

My eyes darted down to her lightly parted mouth, and I drew in a breath. I caught the scent of coffee, and cream, plus the tang of salt that was uniquely all hers. Her sweat, her body, her natural essence.

I wanted to bend down and lick her right at the pulse point of her neck, and take the skin between my teeth.

"O’Malley is a lap dog," I said as I leaned into her space, and she didn't retreat. “Harrison Guile is a peacock.”

We were chest to chest and I could feel her panted breaths matched my own.

"You are a wolf," I leaned down to her ear, trying to keep myself from darting out my tongue to nibble on that sweet lobe. "You should be with another wolf."

She shivered, her eyes fluttered closed, her long lashes coming to a hard line like the closing wings of a butterfly.

"So, who?" she asked, a pale blush coming to her paper white skin. Then she scowled, "Keith?"

I growled, my hand moved without my knowledge until it clasped her elegant neck in my palms.

"Don't!" I ordered.

She laughed and tried to claw at my hand as she gasped for air, made worse by her incessant fucking chuckles.

"Give me another name," I growled. "Give me the name of who you belong to."

Where the fuck was this coming from? We went from playing, to needing vows. I wanted to cut her hand and make her mine now. How did this happen so fast?

My hands tightened, and she struggled and kicked. Her skin was turning red, and I knew I had to let her go. I knew that what I was doing was completely out of line, but here I was doing it anyway.

"Ajax!"

"Tell me what man is good enough for you?" Why was this so fucking important to me? Why was I asking for an answer? I didn’t even know the answer myself.

"Ajax!" She shook her head. "You! You're ... the ... one ..."

My fist let go, as if she had tapped out of a spar. I bent away from her, my eyes widened as she took in a deep breath, her hand massaging her neck.

I looked down at my palm, the one that had been choking her, and wondered what fucking demon had possessed me, because I had never, not once, ever committed violence against the woman I lo... was attracted to.

"Sin," I said her name as an apology, ready to make my amends, because what the fuck? "I'm sorry."

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