Page 101 of Iris
Not to mention the fact I want her with a need I haven’t felt before.
Xavier’s moved off to the darkest corner, as he watches the patrons, the door.
For a cold bastard he’s got a soft heart. He channeled his anger into being calculated and I’m… I’m fine.
Everyone has scars. Especially those who aren’t like Iris, privileged, pampered. It’s part of life and we just want to make that life better for all. Because when things are banned and pushed underground, regulation and having someone to answer to goes out the window and then kids end up beaten and hanged for crimes they could never commit. And people end up with a dead sister and no one who pays for that crime.
I learned if the system doesn’t respect me, I don’t respect it, and I’ll use it and those who place themselves at the top to reach my goals.
Why the fuck should I care about the consequences? Why should I care about the people?
Emmie comes first.
I look at the patrons drinking.
There are only a few of the upper class that have been in tonight, but they left, maybe because of the summer storm or they’re disappointed for…who the fuck cares why. I do know with the Stitch we’ll end up having more and we might just have to be selective when they come in.
And where the fuck is Iris?
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter to myself. “About the cause.”
But Emmie’s little face when she sees Icy comes to me, and Iris’s face as she sees my kid. “Shit,” I say. “She better be fucking fine.”
He suddenly straightens.
“How? Kidnap’s not the smartest agend?—”
The door opens and rain whips in, along with a figure wrapped in a cloak, the hood covering her face.
I know the fucking cloak.
I don’t need to see the face.
Iris.
She stumbles up and I grab her arms before she does something stupid like whip the hood down.
I’m hit with a world of scent, sex and flowers. A swirl of musk and sweet spice and it almost brings me to my knees.
“You took your sweet time,” I say, aiming for humor to defuse the situation as I grapple for self-control. “There’s drama and there’s over the top.”
But she looks up at me, her eyes big beneath the shadows of the hood, and I’m aware of Xavier in my head as he makes his way to the bar. I ignore him.
“Please,” she whispers, voice thick, almost sultry. “Please, help me. I know you can.”
“Iris?”
“I need, I need…help. My family…I’m trying to hold on but…” She shakes her head. “God, I’m sorry, I…”
?Xavier asks, coming right up to us, so she’s protected, but he reels back a moment.
Her scent is overwhelming, enticing to the kind of levels it’ll drive a man insane.
“What do you think?” I ask as she meets my gaze, eyes big and unfocused.
Xavier touches her back, and she shudders.
