Page 34 of The Night Runs Red

I whimpered at his words, clasping my thighs together as if it could stop the ache Rion had caused. “Yes,” I whispered, leaning in. I loathed the admission, but it didn’t change the truth. “I would have.” The leather seat back groaned under his grip as he tightened his hold. It thrilled me, knowing he was just as affected as I was. The silver in his eyes became more prominent, spreading through his irises like a branching sea of stars. “Tell me more.”

“What if I showed you instead?” Before I could answer, he moved and gripped my thighs. He placed me atop his desk, the outline of his erection pressed against my aching center. His mouth descended on mine in unleashed carnal need. His hands sought purchase along my ass, pulling me closer until there was no space between us.

Sex and lust were things I could rationalize in my mind. They were my body’s reaction to what he was doing. I wanted him and he wanted me. It didn’t have to come with greater meanings, even if I knew it would—but I shut that portion of my mind off for now.

I clawed at his shirt, popping the buttons carelessly. Again, I was met with the savage scar across his pectoral. “Will you tell me who hurt you?”

And just like the last time, he answered, “Later.”

Needy lips moved to my neck as I fumbled with his belt, struggling to unlatch it. Suddenly, his phone rang. Rion continued his assault while I paused. “Do you need to get that?”

“No.”

The ringing stopped, only to start up again.

“I really think you should—”

“No.”

On the third time, I reached over and picked up the phone. The name Rowena flashed on the screen. As soon as he saw it, he plucked it from my fingers and answered. “What?” he snapped.

I couldn’t make out the words from the other end, but Rion pinched the bridge of his nose before brusquely hanging up and tossing it back on the desk. He sat in the chair I’d been in earlier, running his hands through his hair.

“What is it?”

He sighed. “My sister, who also called me while you were at the hospital, is coming to the city earlier than expected for the blood moon celebration. I was hoping to have you all to myself a while longer.”

I blinked. “It was… your sister on the phone that day?”

“It was,” he said, not even trying to hide his smirk.

I didn’t fight my smile, sliding down and straddling his lap. Torturing him would be my new favorite pastime. His hands ran up my back, pulling me closer, snarling as I deliberately applied pressure to his aching hardness. “What a shame you didn’t take advantage of your good fortune earlier. Think of all the surfaces we could have christened.”

I pecked his cheek and stood up, straightening my clothes. His eyes widened. “What are you doing? We are not finished here,” he said.

“Unfortunately for you, we are. I need to call my uncle and arrange these training dates, and you need to make me dinner.”

“Is that so?” he replied, lips kicking up in a smirk I wanted both to kiss and slap.

I nodded. “Indeed it is. Consider it a part of your husbandly duties. You have much to make up for.”

Rion swatted my ass as he stood, herding me to the door. As much as I wanted to stay in this moment with him, I couldn’t stop thinking about that symbol and the fact I’d seen it before.

Among my uncle’s tattoos.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I returned to my room before dinner, telling Rion I wanted to change clothes and call my uncle. One was the truth, and the other a lie, but what was I supposed to say? “I think my uncle may be a part of a secret society trying to kidnap me?”

No, thank you.

It was just a coincidence, wasn’t it? I’m sure the symbol had a multitude of meanings. Just because it belonged to a group didn’t mean that was the entire reason for its creation, right? I’d seen it before while learning about the symbolism of the wooden stake. Though mortals thought it to be the one thing that would keep them safe from vampyres, it did nothing but incapacitate them for a few minutes. Still, before it became associated with destruction, it belonged to the builders and harvesters as a pivotal tool in their daily arsenal.

Either way, I wouldn’t know until I learned more about the symbol and what it meant. My uncle was not from Kallistos. Perhaps it held a different meaning to his people, but I wouldn’t know unless I asked.

Not that I could come right out with the question. Castor was far more cunning than most people I knew and would see my question for what it was.

Fear.

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