Page 10 of Worth

Except his hand latches onto my braid, yanking me backwards. I hear a stuttered breath coming from him, and it takes me a moment to realize that it isn’t a pained noise. He’s fucking laughing.

“Goddamn,” he chuckles, leading me forward by my hair, one hand over his face. “I think you broke my fucking nose.” The hounds bay again, sounding closer than ever, just as he shoves me against a classic cherry red convertible car. “Get in the car.”

“Go to hell,” I snap, swiping at him with clawed hands, noting the blood oozing from his right nostril.

He dodges my attempt, chuckling. “Guess it’ll be the hard way then,” he murmurs.

I don’t have time to react before his pistol connects with my temple. I don’t blackout, but the hit sure as hell scrambled my mind. I try to force my way through the haze, aware that the man has picked me up. He drops me into the backseat of the car with zero concern, my already spotty vision darkening as my head slaps the seat. I release a pained groan, eyelids fluttering.

The car door slams and the engine revs with a throaty noise, sending vibrations through the car. I catch sight of the man glancing over his shoulder around the blur I’m blinking through, a flare of concern taking hold of me as I realize he’s driving without looking where he’s going.

The same concern doesn’t seem to bother the stranger grinning at me. “Hold on, Kitten. It’s about to get bumpy.”

“Whose bed have your boots been under?” I croon, taking a hard right. The tires on my girl—Redd—squeal on the black pavement as we swing around the turn. There’s a noise of protest from the backseat as the delectable little morsel I’ve kidnapped from Damien Ainsbury goes tumbling across the bench.

It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t mean to kidnap the girl. She ran right into my arms like it was fate...or like she was trying to escape. I’m not sure which. Zander says that I’d be a romantic at heart if I had one, so maybe I’m reading too much into a beautiful woman running directly into my arms. Then again, she was covered in blood, looking like a fucking crazy wet dream...

In fact, as I glance at her in the rearview mirror, drinking in the sight of her blood splattered face, my dick is getting hard.

Where was I? Oh. Right. Shania.

“Whose heart did you steal, I wooonnndddeerrr?” I look over my left shoulder, seeing that I haven’t lost Damien’s fucking security team. I’ve never seen them fight this hard for a Skin I’ve stolen from the dickhead. I look over my shoulder at the pretty Skin, grinning when she bares her teeth at me like a vicious animal. Feisty. I like it.

“Tell me, Kitten,” I say casually, draping my arm over the back of the passenger seat. “Is there any special reason Damien’s little bitch squad is chasing me like you’re worth something?”

She snorts—actuallysnorts—her eyes brightening with humor. “Bitch squad,” she repeats with a snicker. Her eyes go wide before she can answer me and she leaps forward between Redd’s front seats, grabbing the wheel. “Watch the fucking road, you psycho!” she screams, steering us out of the path of an oncoming big wheeler.

“Why? You’re watching it just fine,” I say, shrugging as I eye tits that are damn near falling out of the too-small frilly dress she’s wearing. Pulling the handle, I let my seat shift back all the way and pull her into my lap. Fuck, this girl needs a burger. She’s way too light for her tit size. “You drive if you’re going to be so bitchy about it, though.”

“Youarecrazy,” she mutters, but she immediately takes the wheel with both hands and jerks it left, careening around a street corner on a red light. Narrowly avoiding t-boning a car, she tries to kick my foot off the gas, but I don’t let her.

I pat her on the head. “Nah. I said you drive. I’ll handle the pedals.”

Before she can argue—I can see her argument bubbling to the surface—I slam the gas pedal down, shifting the car into the highest gear.

“I’m Aiden. What’s your name?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Fuck off,” she snarls, jumping a median.

I scowl as Redd lurches over the concrete and rocks. “Easy on my girl,” I reprimand.

Kitten shoots me the deadliest glare I’ve ever seen on a woman, her swollen cheek and eye making it look a bit lopsided, but fuck me if I don’t get harder over it. The fact that she’s sliding around on my lap as she wildly drives us deeper into the heart of the city is not helping. Any second, she’s going to feel exactly what she’s doing to me.

“Fine. I’ll just call you Kitten.”

“Then I’ll just call you Psychotic Asshole.”

I chuckle. “You’re gonna call me Pa for short, Kitten? I’ve been called Daddy but never Pa.”

I should have been watching her body language to avoid the elbow that whacks me right in my already broken nose, but I was too busy checking out her creamy thighs. “Shut up,” she demands as I gently pinch the bridge of my nose, my eyes watering in the best way. Her eyes flick up to the rearview mirror and some of the tension goes out of her shoulders. “I think we lost them.”

I check too. “Appears so,” I murmur. Without warning, I grasp her waist—goddamn, she really does need some meat on her—and toss her into the passenger seat. “You hungry, Kitten?”

“No,” she grunts as she rights herself in the seat, yanking her dress up to try to contain her overflowing breasts. As if on cue, her belly grumbles. Loudly.

I huff a laugh. “You need a burger,” I tell her, but I’m not sure if it’s just because I’ve been thinking that for a few minutes and nowIwant a burger. The look on her face though, eyes all wide and hopeful, makes me do a double take. “Doesn’t Damien feed his Skins?”

Her eyes shutter, her gaze turning cold again. “Yes,” she answers tightly. “I got three meals delivered to me a day.”

---