Page 31 of The Serpent's Bride
“Usually,I’mthe one wielding the weapon but…I have to say this is…strangely enjoyable.” He shifted, and that was when she felt his desire pressing into her core where she was straddling him. With a grunt, his eyes slid half-shut. “I was so very much trying to be a good boy until after the wedding. Stay just like that a moment, will you?”
It was their closeness—the presence of him grinding against her—that finally drove her to climb off of him and the bed in one swift movement. She grabbed a silk dressing gown from the chair by the dresser and threw it on, tying the belt around her waist. “I’m—I’m sorry. You startled me.”
Letting out a disappointed sigh, he stood from the bed like nothing had happened, smoothing out his clothes andstraightening his tie. “I wasn’t expecting my cowgirl to have such a violent streak. Nor for her to be hiding weapons beneath her pillow.”
His knuckles were bloodied.
Her stomach sank. “Whatever Lana told you?—”
“That is why I’m here. Come. Since you’reup,let’s do this properly.” He opened the door to the room and left her standing there, confused and shaking, hairpin still in her hand.
She didn’t like being on the back foot. Glancing at the clock, it was three in the morning. What the fuck was Raziel doing in her room at three in the morning? Why had he been in her bed?
Putting the hairpin down on her dresser, she debated her next actions. She could disappear. Get dressed, jump the fence, and be gone. But she’d given Monica all the money she’d had in the bank. All her things were gone. She’d destroyed her life to come here to ruin him. There was no going back.
And, even worse than that?
Curiosity burned in her.
She needed to knowwhat was going on here.
The feeling of him against her, of his body so close—his touch. She shut her eyes, let out a wavering breath, and combed her hands through her hair.
Fine.Fine!This was a one-way trip for her, she’d known that going in. Whether she succeeded or failed, this was how she died. Quickly pulling on her clothes, she squared her shoulders, and followed after Raziel.
He hadn’t waited for her, but she found him on the balcony that overlooked his pool. It seemed to be one of his favorite places to be. He was already sipping a glass of ice and amber alcohol, and a second one was resting on the railing next to him.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Aw. You got dressed.”
That actually made her laugh. Not a lot, and not loudly, but it was a genuine laugh. “I’m sorry about the hairpin.”
“No, you’re not. Don’t lie to me.” He placed his drink down on the railing.
Something struck her—an urge. She didn’t know what it meant, but she followed it. “You’re right. I’m not.” Walking to the bar, she picked up a container of vodka and a cloth. Pouring some of the alcohol onto the fabric, she headed back to him.
Raziel was watching her now, curious and dubious in equal measure. Picking up his hand, she studied the blood on his knuckles. “How much of this is yours?”
The dark chuckle that left him sent another shiver down her spine. “None.”
Chewing on her lower lip, she started to clean the blood off his skin. When she reached one part, he hissed and jolted, but didn’t recoil. She shot him a raised eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe some.” Shrugging dismissively, he looked off into the city, his expression unreadable.
Finishing his first hand, she went to the second, cleaning him up as best as possible before folding the cloth and putting it on the railing. It was an action she’d done to her own hands many times—cleaning someone else’s blood from her skin. She picked up her drink and faced the city, finding that she really needed the benefit of alcohol at the moment. “I heard rumors. Rumors that I think are confirmed now.”
A hum left him, but nothing more.
“I didn’t fuck anybody. And they didn’t fuck me. No matter what Lana?—”
“She told me you and Azazel just chatted. That you were both more than happy to pretend he ran you ragged and went to bed ridden hard. I heard the same from him.” He sneered. “Though he thinks Lana is none the wiser.”
“I…”
“She’s my sister, Monica.” He reached into his coat pocket and fished out a silver cigarette holder that had a decorative “R” etched into the surface. Picking one out, he tucked the cigarette between his lips, clicked the case shut, and slid it into his pocket.
Click-click.That was why he sometimes smelled of smoke. But it wasn’t tobacco that she smelled in the air, it was more like…woodsmoke or incense. Vampires were strange. His face was illuminated by the glow of his lighter as he lit the cigarette. He took a heavy drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air above them.
She’d seen a million people light cigarettes in her life.
