Page 44 of Galen
“I never stay after sex.”
“Oh,” I repeated, unsure what else to say.
He smoothed down his shirt before regarding me. “I told you. I don’t do gentle. Or romance. I fuck and I leave.”
“I didn’t say I wanted romance.” I pulled the sheet up over my waist, feeling suddenly exposed. “I just didn’t think you’d take off so fast after blowing your load.”
“Pillow talk isn’t my thing,” he said before stepping toward the door. “Good night, Simon.”
I watched him leave my room, confused by the strange feeling swirling in my chest. I’d known it was only sex. A mutual onetime hookup.
So why did the sight of him leaving upset me?
“Stop being an idiot,” I told myself before sliding out of bed and going into the connecting bathroom to wash off. My reflection in the mirror caught my attention.
He’d left a bite mark on my neck.
I traced it with my fingertips, my stomach fluttering at the memory of when he bit me. That combination of pain and pleasure… damn, I’d never experienced something so intense. I tore my gaze from the mirror and approached the shower.
When I slid back into bed later, Galen’s sandalwood scent lingered on the sheets. I snuggled into them and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the stupid ache in my chest.
Chapter Nine
Galen
After leaving Simon’s room, I paced in the hall outside his door, fighting the urge to go back inside. I heard the shower turn on and inwardly groaned at the mental image of him standing beneath the stream, water running down his naked body.
I’d just had him and already wanted him again.
Fuck this.
Needing to put distance between us, I stormed outside and spread my wings, my shirt ripping off with the action. I took off into the clear night sky, deeply inhaling the crisp air as I flew higher. I landed on the cliff beside the mansion and looked out over the dark sea.
Sex meant nothing to me. It was only a means to an end. A quick release. Over the years, I’d bedded too many men to count. Emotions never played a part in any of the encounters.
Yet, sex with Simon had been different. I had faced him, for one. I normally fucked the men from behind, hardly ever even kissing them. But his lips had tempted me, and I’d needed to taste them. Needed to feel his breaths on my skin and see pleasure spark in his eyes as I took him hard. And when he touched the slits in my shoulder blades, I’d lost control.
No other human had ever touched me there.
I’d never allowed it.
“Goddammit,” I growled, kicking at a rock. It flew off the cliff and landed in the water below.
“What did that poor rock ever do to you?” Castor asked, landing beside me. His black wings had gold undertones, the color associated with his sin. All of us had black wings. The only difference was the underlying shade. Mine was a deep red.
“Keep talking and I’ll kick you off the cliff too.”
“Harsh.” Castor relaxed his wings but kept them visible. He peered up at the moon. “You marked him.”
Another growl formed in my throat. “It was an accident.”
I bit Simon. Marked him as mine. Now, any supernatural creature he came across would smell my scent on him and know to stay away. If they knew what was good for them anyway.
Shit. There I go again with the possessive crap.
“If you grind your teeth any harder, they’ll crack.” Castor turned to me. “Ever since the day you met Simon, I’ve noticed a change in you. We all have. Why not embrace your feelings instead of running from them?”
“You know why,” I snarled. “Need I remind you what happened last time I fell for someone?”
