Page 34 of Avidian
“I want to taste more than your mouth, baby.”
He pushes my chest back and starts hiking up my dress. Panicking, I jerk back, and my eyes lock on the ceiling as I try to rationalize my actions.
I can do this. It’s for the Avids. It’s for the mission. Oh God, can I do this? What would Cade think if he could see me now, or Malachi? I’m not the first woman to dangle sex to get what shewants, but that isn’t who I thought I was. Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. Am I in control or not?
His hands trace over my calves, and I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself. But then something changes—warmth spreads over me. No, not warmth—wetness.
My eyes snap open as Eduard’s eyes go wide, his neck gaping open in a crimson slash. Blood spills down the front of him, splattering across me.
I freeze, my breath caught in my throat as his body collapses forward, sagging heavily against me. For a horrifying moment, I can feel the warmth of his blood soaking through my dress before his weight shifts and he crumples to the floor with a sickening thud.
I’ve seen my fair share of murders over the years—I live with the fucking Volkov family, after all—but this? This is something else.
I sit up, my heart racing, and my eyes meet Malachi’s as he shoves a bloody blade back into the waistband of his pants.
For a moment, neither of us says a word. His eyes burn with fury, the intensity making me feel more exposed than I already am. When his gaze drops lower, I throw my hands over my chest, yanking the strap of my dress back into place.
“What the fuck is going on?” I wail, standing unsteadily as I look down at the blood smeared across my dress and pooling on the floor.
Malachi doesn’t answer, doesn’t even blink. Instead, he strides forward, scooping me up like I weigh nothing and slinging me over his shoulder in one swift motion.
“Put me down!” I yell, pounding a fist against his back, but he ignores me entirely.
He moves around the room, rummaging through drawers and shelves. I can’t see what he’s doing from this angle, but his movements are quick and deliberate.
I think he’s about to carry me out of the room but then he sets me down on the bed, not gently but not harshly either. His glare is sharp enough to cut through steel, the look of a disappointed parent—or maybe a frustrated executioner.
“Start talking,” he says finally.
I cross my arms over my chest, staring back at him, defiance bubbling up despite my shaken state. “You just murdered someone!”
“And saved your ass in the process,” he snaps.
“I had it under control,” I hiss.
His laugh is cold, humorless. “Control? Is that what you call being drunk sitting half-naked on a bed with a predator between your legs?”
My cheeks burn with anger and humiliation. “I was working him!”
“Yeah?” Malachi steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. “From where I stood, it looked like he was about to work his way inside you.”
“You told me to get information from these guys. How did you think I was supposed to do that?”
“You’re reckless, Kat,” he says, softer now but no less intense. “And tonight could’ve ended very differently if I hadn’t been there.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion. I want to argue, to yell, to push him away, but deep down I know he’s right.
For once, I don’t have a clever comeback. I sit there, glaring at him, before I spit, “And what if that’s what I wanted?”
“I’m sure you could find someone better to fuck than that,” Malachi says, hitting a nerve. My head throbs as the alcohol and frustration mix into a volatile cocktail.
I cross my arms. “He said there are two Avids being kept in this house tonight, and there’s supposed to be a silent auction for them after the party.”
Malachi’s expression darkens, but I continue, sitting up straighter and taking a deep breath. “He said he’d take me to them. He...” I swallow, unwilling to say the rest out loud.
Malachi doesn’t look away. His silence is heavy, expectant, as if he’s waiting for me to finish the thought.
“He wanted something in return,” I say finally, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. I don’t elaborate. I don’t need to.
