Page 46 of The Vampire Kingpin
I put a hand on his arm, breathing in his clean, male scent. My heart turned over at how familiar that smell had become—the hint of coconut, the maleness of it.
“Yes. If the invite still stands, that is.”
His brows drew together. I felt his questions, pressing against my skin. But all he said was, “All right.”
I rose on my toes, and taking his face in my hands, kissed him. One deep, soul-kiss, pouring everything I couldn’t say, even to myself, into it.
He stiffened, then brought a hand to my ass, urging me against him. But when I dropped back to my heels, he let me go.
I reached for the soap and started to wash myself. “I need a new dress, though.”
“What’s the matter with the gold dress?”
“I can’t wear it.” Not after I’d worn it to a party at the Darkman’s over-the-top Vegas mansion.
Spider was frowning now, so I added, “Too many memories,” which was also true. “My mom bought it for me. I was wearing it the night they…” I rolled my lips in and shrugged.
Spider wrapped a long arm around me, pulling me to him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll buy you a new dress, okay, baby?”
Baby. I bit my lip, knowing that meant he wasn’t angry at me anymore.
And despite everything I’d told myself, that emotion-bomb went off in me again. This time it was more like an expanding balloon, lifting me in its wake.
“I can buy it for myself,” I said. “That wasn’t a hint.” I’d amassed a decent amount of cash playing pool with his crew, although sometimes I suspected Monster, at least, was letting me win because he’d guessed how much I needed the money.
Spider touched his forehead to mine. “I wanna do it, okay? A gift.”
“Yeah?” My smile came from deep inside. “Then, alright. And thank you. When is the Masquerade, anyway?”
“November twenty-ninth. And Lark?” He caught my lower lip between his teeth, then released it. “If I buy the dress, I get to pick it out.”
My inner thighs squeezed together at the way he said it. Half-promise, half-threat.
I slid my hands up his chest, teasing his nipples with my thumbs. “Should I be worried?”
“Probably,” he said against my mouth. “But you’re gonna let me do it anyway.”
13
Spider
Sometimes I had really bad ideas. I mean, really fucking terrible ideas.
Like taking Lark dress shopping.
It was the following Monday, and we were at some fancy little shop in Soho. I’d instructed the saleswoman to find us a dress for the Midnight Masquerade, then parked myself on a spindly chair in the pink-and-black dressing room, a glass of blood-whiskey in hand, to give the thumbs-up or thumbs-down on the choices.
Now I was being tortured by Lark in a series of cock-teasing dresses. A short white lacy thing that was so see-through you could tell the color of her nipples. A longer red dress with a back that dipped so low you could see the top of her ass cheeks.
I took a sip of blood-whiskey and shrugged off my leather jacket, undoing the first two buttons of my silk shirt for good measure. Why did humans keep their buildings so damn hot?
The saleswoman glanced at me and I shook my head, nixing the red like I had the white-lace dress. She helped Lark remove it, leaving her barefoot on the thick pink carpet in a black thong and no bra. Anything else would “spoil the lines,” the saleswoman had informed us.
Next up was a slinky silver tube that bared Lark’s butter-cream throat and shoulders. “No,” I barked before she even got a chance to see herself in the dressing room’s trio of mirrors. “Find something that doesn’t show so much of her neck.”
The Midnight Masquerade was a playground for vampires at their most decadent. Taking Lark dressed like that would be like dangling a piece of raw meat in front of a pack of starving wolves, and I’d rather not get in a brawl over her at a syndicate ball. Not that I feared those arrogant SOBs, but I preferred to fly under the radar.
“Of course, sir.” The saleswoman peeled Lark out of the silver tube.
