Page 91 of Iris
“Jerks.” Violet steps up to Xavier and says thank you.
He signs, and to my shock, she signs back. But we have to go.
“We don’t have much time,” Violet says as their driver gets out and opens the door for us. Once we’re inside, heading home, she says, “We’ll say he took you to us and we met you, made sure you were okay. With Stephan backing me, Heath won’t have a reason to do anything drastic.”
Stephan starts to argue.
My sister smiles at him and puts her hand to his face. “You’ll do it, won’t you?”
In front of me, he crumbles. “For you, Princess, anything.”
“Thanks,” I say. “And Stephan, I have a favor.” This needs to be worded right. “After tonight, after the impression I’ve made, I need to set things right.”
“Why? Do I think I’ll regret this?” he mutters.
“I need you to get me an audience with your aunt. The Monarch.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Xavier
Itake a meandering, long drive back.
She has gorgeous tits. I saw them when Killian tasted them, and her baring them to me, taunting me with them, tested me.
Touching them stretched my limits of control. Because her scent was thick in the air, engulfing all my senses.
Iris also tasted better than the last time we kissed. So fucking good. And this time, the erotic content was bursting through the ceiling, her sex still on her tongue from when Killian felt her up and fed her a taste of herself.
I stretch my fingers on the wheel.
After sharing so much with Killian, and bonding with him through Tamara, I could almost feel his burst of desire as he brought her to orgasm.
It had been fleeting but it’s still there, like a ghost.
When we take her, that will intensify, and if we mark her as ours?—
No. Not part of the plan. I have my eyes quietly on the prize. A place in a world where Emmie can move through society to wherever she decides to land, and make her own decisions about who she might want.
And if at the end of that Iris is there, we can make her ours.
After seeing Killian and his reaction, that visceral thing that had him close to fucking her in that alley—he might not even know how close he came, but I do.
I know him.
Emmie comes first.
She is ours, too. We don’t know who the father is, biologically, or if she’s a product of Alpha pack biology, a quirk of nature. Because she looks like she’s made of him and me and some Tamara thrown in.
My phone buzzes as I finally pull up.
It’s early enough in the night that we’re still legitimately open and the place is busy but not as busy as it’ll get when the after-the-ball people arrive, like they always do.
I go up to my room and change, then head down, sitting by the dark end of the bar near the back, just visible enough to ward off trouble and in a place where I can take care of any should it decide to arise.
Killian’s chatting up some blonde, like the entire world revolves around her and she’s lapping it up.
