Page 5 of Virgo Queen
Me.
Little Miss Mallory’s been hiding all that ink under her modest schoolgirl uni. Definitely makes me wonder what other secrets she might be hiding.
That concept triggers all my savage hunting instincts.
Suddenly the primitive arctic hunter in me is burning to track her. Trap her. Claim her. Uncover her wings and her secrets and her needs—all those hidden, sweaty, late-night needs she’s afraid are way too filthy ever to share. Expose every centimeter of her delectable body. One fascinating mystery at a time.
“Hey,amou.” Jean-Emilien’s soft voice, all husky with sex, drags me out of my trance. “Think you can let the girl down now,oui?”
Down. Right. Fuck.
She’s still suspended in my predatory grip.
With a casual twist, I grunt and ease my prey upright so she’s vertical, then I lower her feet to the stairs. Once she’s good and steady, I make myself unflex my telekinetic muscle and release her with a growl of protest.
Cuz releasing her is the last thing I wanna do.
Ever.
“Uh, wow, thanks. That was… impressive.” The girl sounds breathless, like you’d expect after she just barely avoided breaking every bone in her perfect body on those wicked stairs.
She smooths her sparkly dress and shakes back her flaming hair with a cute little grimace. Her enormous eyes veer straight to my boner—because of course I’m standing here on the public stairs like a pervert with my dick hanging out. Her breath hitches in on a shocked hiccup. Her teeth sink hard into the plump curve of her lower lip.
I watch with complete fucking fixation as her cheeks pinken right up. A sudden flood of her sweet rain-and-honeysuckle fragrance perfumes the air.
I had my suspicions before, but I was never sure.
Now I am.
I’d bet my Harley that girl’s a complete innocent. Innocent as the pagan goddess Gefjun from my native land.
But that sudden whiff of scent tells me Little Miss Innocent is also… curious.
Aboutme.
A potent hit of juniper and bergamot smacks my senses like a freight train. That’s my mating scent, laced with Jean-Emilien’s feral fragrance and enough of my own Mogadon pheromones to make all three of us horny.
As if we weren’t already all sexed up as fuck.
“Donotrun,” I tell her gruffly, before the chick bolts again. “You’ll break your neck in those fucking shoes.”
“Oh, um, right.” She seems to be having trouble taking her eyes off my dick. I’m already right on the edge from Jean-Emilien sucking me off like a goddamn porn star with his filthy hot mouth.
Now, under Mallory’s fascinated gaze, Mr. Happy swells proudly.
Great.
I clear my throat and start tucking my junk away before I embarrass myself. Very clearly, Jean-Emilien will need to finish me off later. I don’t wear briefs under my leather, and this is one of the times that sucks. Grimly I wrestle my zipper shut over my raging boner and almost catch my pubes in the thing.
With my dick now under wraps (and bitterly protesting the entire decision), Mallory’s gaze lifts shyly to my face, lips parted and eyes wide.
For a breath, I hold her complete attention. Her gray eyes shimmer and flash an eerie silver in the twilight.
An unexpected tingle raises goosebumps down my arms. For a heartbeat, my hunting instinct whispers,Not human.
Shit. I’m losing my goddamn mind over this girl. Magically and socially, she’s a nobody. She’s nothing. A total nonentity. Her lackluster witching world pedigree couldn’t be any more pedestrian.
But whatever she is or isn’t, I want her.
