Page 63 of His Puppet

“You don’t mean that,” I whisper, still staring at his lips that are so close. We’re inches away from each other. One of his hands is cupping my chin while the other grazes my shoulder.

“What exactly would I get out of lying?”

I bite my lip and look into his eyes. They’re as intense as before. It’s hard not to look away.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But if you keep saying shit like that, you’ll have a hard time getting rid of me.”

He smiles. “Have you forgotten? I’ve already had a hard time getting rid of you.”

I chuckle and press my hand to his chest, angling my head and leaning up, hovering with our lips an inch from each other. “Touché.”

My fingers clasp onto his shirt, and I finally give in to temptation, kissing him with passion I’ve never felt before this. The taste of spearmint pulls me into him when my tongue nudges between his lips.

He cups my face, holding me with a firm grasp while he matches every stroke.

It feels too good. Too real. We’re behaving like lovers instead of two people from different worlds with odd appreciations for each other.

I pull away before I can lose myself to him completely and pat my hair as if to make sure it’s still in place. Blade’s hand reaches out, but he must think better of it because he rests it on the table. An awkwardness comes over us as if we both know we should probably pull back. I take a drink of my martini then pat his thigh to lighten the mood.

“You know, you never even asked me to dance,” I say, my tone teasing.

One side of his lips tilt up. “I’m more of a drinker than a dancer.”

“And yet, you brought me to a dance club.”

“I like the place.”

“Because it’s easy to pick up women?”

His eyes roam the area, and he shrugs when he looks back at me. “Yes and no. I like it because of the energy, but yeah, it’s shooting fish in a barrel in here. It usually ends on a high note.”

I give him an amused grin. “I like the honesty.”

He takes a drink of Cognac before leaning back in the booth, splaying his arm over the top. “I find lying to be pointless the vast majority of the time. Plus,” he shrugs, “I don’t peg you as naive.”

I nod. “I’m pretty fantastic at reading people.”

“I bet you are.”

“Mmhm.” I stand up, take one last gulp of my martini to empty the glass, then slam it on the table and hold out my hand to Blade. “Which is how I know you’re justdyingto dance with me.”

He laughs. “Is that so?”

I nod enthusiastically, and he begrudgingly lets me pull him up to drag him from the room. I make my way to the dancefloor, Blade in tow, and breathe in the smell of sweat and strong perfume. You’d think the smell would be repulsive, but the tension in the air, the way my teeth rattle from the pop music and the pumping in my chest, makes it fitting and almost intoxicating. I like the energy in places like this too.

I drag Blade close to the middle, wedging us between people before I spin around. He has a small smile on his face. The pop song by who the hell knows what up-and-coming singer has my hips swaying and my arms lifting above my head. Blade runs his hands down my sides and rests them on my hips while he does that subtle guy dance.

He leans into me and has to practically yell in my ear so I’ll hear him. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“What’s that?” I yell back.

“We can dance as long as you want, but you have to give me some when I take you home.”

I don’t miss the way he calls his place ‘home,’ but the thought is pushed to the side with my laugh.

“I thought I made it clear to you I never sleep with the mark.”

He pulls back and looks at me with his eyebrows pinched, confused.

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