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Instead of sitting where he instructed, Irisa hikes her dress and straddles his lap. Triumph flashes on her face as she flips her long, sandy hair to one side. That twisted knot in my gut tightens when Fox fails to push her away. He slides two fingers beneath her collar and tugs her lips to his, but halts at the last second to avoid clashing.
I swallow. All that control in two fingers.
For a moment, they don’t move, but then they kiss. It starts slow, seductive. Her hands slide around his nape and burrow into his short hair. From the way she grinds against him, they may as well be fucking. My heart races. Maybe they are.
This is why he left me?
Anger boils my blood. My grip tightens on Alfie’s hand. It takes every ounce of self-control to stop from walking over thereand punching him in the face. But it’s not my business. We’re not a couple. They want to fucking betray me. This is just more proof that his kissing me was all part of his act.
I rub my sternum and tell the defiant ache to shut up. I’mnottheir queen. I don’t even know what that truly entails.
I want to leave, but something about the exchange mesmerizes me. It’s every glimpse of her facial expression when he angles his head—a flash of bliss, a hint of agony, then back to ecstasy. Can it be like that? Can sex be a drug, an addiction, a pain you can’t get enough of?
Pain is more Emrys’s kink, but I’m willing to experiment if you are.
I thought he was being flippant when he said that to me, but he wasn’t.
My rage morphs into something hotter as my curiosity deepens. Like gunpowder embracing a flame, Irisa sees her imminent doom fast approaching, yet she keeps chasing his lips. Faster and faster, she rides him. He still holds her lips to his with two fingers, a steady force, while she writhes and moans and comes undone. What would it feel like to be her, to be consumed with such need that I’d throw myself on fuel to attract the flame?
Fox suddenly rears back, face tilted to the night sky, his long arms spread lengthwise across the backrest. He looks done. Sated.
Now, nothing obstructs our view of Irisa’s face. Her lower lip catches between her teeth, her brows lift in the middle, and a sheen of sweat glimmers over her skin as she chases that dagger’s edge of ecstasy and agony. Her helpless whimpers quicken, as do my pulse and breath. Within seconds, she grips the backrest beside Fox’s head and seizes. Her climax screams from somewhere so deep that it sounds like grief. And it goes on and on... so long that I start to worry if she’s really hurt, but Foxwhispers something, and her spine turns to jelly. Her head flops to the side, an exhausted smile touching her lips.
Everyone in a fifty-foot radius witnessed her earth-shattering orgasm. A few smirks are tossed her way, and a few give jealous scowls, but when her lashes finally flutter open, it’s not Fox her gaze lands on.
“Alfie,” she gasps.
Fox twists. His fathomless eyes lock with mine and widen.
“This isn’t what it looks like.”His panicked voice punches into my mind.
I am frozen. Rooted to the spot. Alfie seems just as shocked. His hand cripples mine in his grip. Maybe Irisa taught him how to braid hair. Maybe they dated. That’s why he looks so crestfallen.
Fox’s gaze darts to Alfie, then down to our hands. His expression switches to violent outrage. In the space between heartbeats, I glimpse the promise of murder.
He shoves Irisa. She flies backward off the sofa. Before she hits the ground, he vaults the backrest and comes at us so fast he must beflickering. I barely have time to breathe. He’s almost here, eyes black as the night and skull illuminating beneath his skin.
“Stop!” I shout, stepping in front of Alfie.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I brace for impact. Nothing comes except a brush of air. I peel one eye open, then the other. Fox is inches away, heaving lungfuls of air like he’s drowning. He glances down where I hold Alfie behind me, my hand touching his hip. Pain crumples his features, twisting them once again.
“It’s not what it looked like,”he repeats in my mind.
“None of my business,”I return, hating how my instincts don’t agree.
“I didn’t fuck her. I fed from her.”His brows lift in the middle, then slam back down as he retargets Alfie.“If he doesn’tremove his hand from you within five seconds, I won’t just sip on his soul like I did hers. I’ll fucking consume it whole.”
I back up, pushing Alfie with me.
“If you have any sense,”I send, echoing his warning at the restaurant.“You’ll walk away right now.”
He blinks, suddenly realizing we’re being watched by everyone, including Cait, who’s pushed through the gathering crowd. She narrows her eyes in warning, but he bares razor-sharp fangs at Alfie. They’re growing in number and size, just like all the horror stories I heard about the Sluagh. It’s like he’s possessed, crazed.
“Fox, stop.” I push command into my tone. Black eyes hit mine, imploring me to listen to him. But this behavior is wrong. He can’t do this.
“I’m sorry I called you a monster,”I send, genuinely meaning it.“I was wrong to call you that. I was hurt, defensive. But if you kill Alfie—my friend—then a monster is what you’ll be. And there’s no coming back from that.”
His sadness is marked in the slump of his shoulders. After what I witnessed, how is it fair to feel like I’ve done something wrong? Fox doesn’t speak. He just lets his eyes return to their normal shade.
