Page 32 of Consume Me
He doesn’t move back. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“That depends,” I say, a little breathless. “Are you planning on behaving?”
His smirk says absolutely not, but instead of answering, he leans past me, opens the door, and follows me inside. The space is small—cozy—and I’m suddenly hyperaware of the fact that I’ve never had a man in here, much less one who makes the walls feel smaller just by standing between them.
I walk to the counter, trying to play it cool. “Well, thank you for walking me up. I guess I’ll, uh, see you soon.”
But instead of leaving, he steps closer, gaze fixed on mine, crowding me until I’m caught between him and the counter’s edge. “Tomorrow,” he says.
“Tomorrow what?”
“That’s when you’ll see me. And if I didn’t have to go look for ways to separate that dagger from your soul, I’d never leave.”
His gaze darts over my shoulder to where I know my bed sits with rumpled sheets. My mouth goes dry at the idea of him and me in that bed.
“One more thing.”
His voice draws my attention back to him standing before me, his scent invading the air between us.
Before I can ask, his mouth is on mine—soft at first, then more insistent, his hand warm against my cheek before trailing to my throat. He grips me with just enough pressure to drive me crazy. My pulse roars in my ears. I lean into him, a small sound escaping me as his tongue slashes against mine.
Then he pulls back, eyes darkening with delicious promises.
“Good night, Kendall.”
He’s gone before I can utter a response, the scent of pine and earth lingering in his wake, and I’m left standing in my apartment with my lips tingling and the dagger hissing quietly in the back of my mind.
Chapter 10
Kendall
By morning, the heat of Noctan’s kiss still lingers on my lips. It’s ridiculous—unacceptable, even—that I keep catching myself reliving his goodbye like some love-struck teenager who’s never been kissed before. Ihavebeen kissed before. Plenty of times. None of them ever distracted me like this. And then there’s that near-orgasm I experienced on his couch. Ugh. The dagger—currently rattling around in the cabinet where I locked it this morning after it reappeared in my kitchen—is officially a cock-block.
When I make it downstairs, Natalia’s shop is warm and bright, the smell of cinnamon, dried lavender, and old books wrapping around me as I enter. Golden light slants through the front windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the air. On any other day, I’d find the peace and quiet comforting.
Today, it just makes the dagger’s whispers inside my head seem louder. Visions kept me awake most of the night. Horrific images of death and blood and destruction.My head is already aching from the onslaught. The only upside is that the daggers’ death visions drowned out any of my own, including reliving any images of the white-starred wolf ripping out my throat.
“Morning,” Natalia calls.
She stands near the window, stacking jars of dried rosemary and sage.
“Morning,” I say, taking up my place at the new inventory I’m supposed to be cataloguing.
I feel rather than see Natalia glance over her shoulder at me.
“So,” she says, her tone light but edged with interest, “how was the party last night?”
“Fine,” I say, keeping my gaze on the ledger in front of me.
She repeats the word, drawing it out. “Fine? That’s all you’re going to give me?”
I glance back at her and shrug. “That’s all there is to give.”
“And the daggers—the bargain you made? Are you free of them at last?”
“Yes and no,” I say carefully.
Her eyes narrow. “You’re calling your sister.”
