Page 282 of Primal Bonds

The last time they’d met, he’d told her to stay out of his city if she knew what was good for her. Said that if she wasn’t careful, “a big, bad cat would carry her off to his lair.”

Her long-lidded blue eyes narrowed. “You know what?” she asked sweetly. “Sometimes you can be a real cabrão.”

A bastard, a motherfucker. That was one Portuguese word he knew. She wasn’t the first Rock Run fada who’d tossed it at him. But with Rosana, he deserved it.

His gaze slid from hers. “It was for your own good.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her look should’ve fried him where he stood. “Well, maybe I’m tired of other people deciding what’s good for me. Maybe I want to decide for myself.”

He raised his beer to her. “Then go for it.”

When she shot him an uncomprehending look, he shrugged. “Hey, I’m not your brother or even a member of your clan. You want something, go out and get it. Just don’t come to my city and try to mess in my business.”

She leaned closer, dropped her voice. “And if what I want is you?”

He gulped. Took a swig of beer. Replayed her question in his head. “That’s why you’re here?”

A tiny nod. She looked out over the crowd, seemingly unconcerned, her slim frame was taut with tension. “I want to take you up on your offer.”

His heart slammed in his chest. Hard, disbelieving beats. “My offer?”

He’d practically begged her for one night, had even offered to meet her out of town so no one would know. But she’d turned him down.

He shifted closer and she turned her head to meet his eyes. The noisy bar faded away until it was just the two of them.

He swayed toward her, his gaze locked on her shiny red lips. He could already taste them beneath his, feel their softness. Hear her gasp as he took her deeper…

“Here you go, bibi.” Sophie’s cheerful voice wrenched him to his senses. She set the beers on the bar behind them.

He dragged in a breath, handed the bartender a ten. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze flicked between Rosana and him, and then she chuckled before moving on to the next customer.

Adric picked up both bottles and handed one to Rosana.

The other fada in the bar—both river and earth—were eyeing them.

He smoothed out his expression and lowered his voice to subvocal tones. “Just to be clear, you’ll give me one night.”

She dipped her chin in assent.

He rubbed a thumb over the bottle’s two bright red X’s. “And you changed your mind—why?”

Why the fuck was he arguing? She’d said yes, hadn’t she? But he couldn’t help being suspicious.

He’d wanted—no, craved—this woman for six and a half years. But it was like Romeo mooning over Juliet, and he wasn’t the idiot Romeo had been. Besides, she’d been barely sixteen, too young and way too sweet for a cynical bastard like him. He’d contented himself with a dance the few times their clans had socialized—and a searing kiss or two. She was twenty-two now, and he was tired of pretending this thing between them didn’t exist.

But he’d made a move—twice—and both times, she’d shut him down.

Then, a few weeks ago she’d come looking for him, said she’d had a “hunch” that he was planning something against the night fae, and she wanted to help.

He’d told her no fucking way.

They’d argued, and then he’d taken her hand. She’d gone stick-straight, her irises darkening to an eerie black. That was when he’d realized she had the Sight.

“The Darktime isn’t over,” she’d said in a Seer’s toneless voice. “The prince will destroy your clan from the inside out.”

A chill had run over his skin. She was a Seer. He hadn’t known, and there wasn’t much he didn’t know about the do Rio family.

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