Page 39 of A Promise of Peridot
He prowled toward me, eyes black. Pure poison black. When he was so close I could smell his leather and sweat, he murmured, “I’ll show you what I fucking get off on.”
“All right,” Griffin cut in, jolting me and slicing the tension between us. I had forgotten he was standing there. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”
“Go home, Griffin,” Kane snarled, eyes never leaving my pursed lips. “We’re fine.”
“You could have turned Crawford in to the king and queen. Why did you murder him?” I pressed. “Do you like it?”
“He knew who you were. He also traded little Mer girls like candies to his friends. You don’t think a man like that deserves death?”
I spun on my heel with his words and walked away from the narrow courtyard, out into the wider street where I could breathe. “That’s not the point. You will always find the worst men and kill them. Not because they deserve it, but because youwantto hurt.”
Kane stepped into pace beside me, Griffin already strides ahead, sick of our bickering.
I was, too.
“And what?” Kane pressed. “You’ll save every trembling asshole who sayspleaseuntil one of them turns around and slices you clean through?”
“There isnothingwrong with showing peoplemercy.I shouldn’t have expected a savage like you to understand.”
“You know what? That’s good.Beangry with me.I’mangry with me. About Siren’s Bay. The prophecy. Your mother—”
I stopped cold. “Don’t youspeakof her—”
“I welcome your anger. Relish it, in fact. Much better than watching you walk through life like a corpse. So give me the worst of it. I’ll take anything you’ve got. Just stop putting yourself in situations like that tofeelsomething.”
Shame coated my throat. “Situations like what?”
“Drinking recklessly, taunting Crawford, taking your damnedclothes off—you’re going to get yourself killed trying to feel alive.”
“You think Iwantsomething to happen to me?”
“I’m starting to think that’s exactly what you want.”
“That’s not— I’m not— You know nothing about me.” I tried to cut around him and nearly toppled into his chest. Looking past him, I realized we were alone. Our only company the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore and crickets chirping in the lush cypress trees.
“Don’t I? I know what you fear. I know what you pray for. I know how you like to be touched, how youtaste...”
When his eyes lit with something raw, something primal, I raised my hand to hit him. To channel my fury into something palpable and tangible like his smug, male face. But my fist collided with his palm instead of his jaw. He held my hand in midair as he stepped closer, invading my senses.
“I let you do that once, bird,” he murmured. “It won’t happen again.”
We were pressed together now, and I could feel his body against mine, warm from wanting and hard like stone. His thumb stroked softly along my still-wound fist, and I hummed involuntarily at the sensation.
His eyes emptied of all silver. Pure predatory pupil.
And I could admit it to myself.
How badly I had missed his body. His smell. His muscled chest—both comforting and deadly powerful.
But now there was something else, too. The need to follow that surge of pure heat. The rush expanding my lungs, the fire funneling through my blood when he looked at me with that excruciating, near-predatory lust—I was spellbound by it. And a bit insatiable.
I reached higher on my toes, needing to feel that heavy, thick weight that was pressing against my stomach a little lower. Just a little—the friction at my core as I pressed myself against him brought another hum from my lips.
He grunted. “What happened todon’t touch me?”
“Who said anything aboutyoutouchingme?”
“Such a cruel, wicked little bird.”
