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“This conversation is over.” I lift my mate, toss her over my shoulder, and run.
“Wait!” Gray calls after Olivia. “Do you have it?”
“Get him gone now,” I snarl at the others, racing for the exit before she mentally or verbally answers.
But as I reach the door, she cries out one high-pitched but unmistakable word.
* * *
Olivia
“Yes!” The word echoes in my head as Marrok clamps his hot hand around my thighs and carries me down the long gallery before taking the stairs two at a time. The hard bulge of his shoulder rams into my middle. Blood rushes to my head—and not just from being carted around like a sack of flour.
“Put me down!” I squirm furiously. “Damn you, now!”
Marrok doesn’t respond, merely keeps on, his sneakers stamping across the marble floor. He smells like sweat and man and hard work forged in steel.
I try to ignore his musky, toe-curling scent, along with my view of his great ass. Better to focus on my rage.
“How dare you drag me out like a child!”
“Did you think before you spoke?” he grunts with each step. “Before you blurted out secrets that could help Mathias?”
“Mathias?” I shout at his back. “Richard isn’t his right-hand man anymore. He assured me.”
“So, of course, you believe him?”
“I’ve been reading magical history books all afternoon. He became a hero! And he’s worried about me. He’s not going to sell me out to someone that evil. And he knows more about opening the diary than all of us put together. Before you barged in, he promised to help. How are we going to figure out how to end your curse if we don’t listen and share information?”
“We need him not. We will discern what we must.”
“Really? You’ve had fifteen hundred years with the diary. How did that work out for you?”
Predictably, Marrok doesn’t have an answer.
“You haven’t made a lick of progress, so maybe we should try it my way. I understand trust is hard for you, but my father apologized for the past. You have no reason to not to trust him now except circumstantial evidence and your stubborn need to be right. I have actual proof that he stopped Mathias. Why not give him a chance?”
My pissed-off mountain of a mate pauses. “Because he was once Anarki. And he never bothered himself to find you until Mathias resurfaced. That does not inspire trust, and I will never risk you.”
I see Marrok’s point, but can’t believe my own father would intentionally put me in danger. “Those history books describe my father as Anarki enemy number one.”
“Deceit is in his blood. I smell it.”
“Um…his blood is my blood. Does your little proclamation include me, too? I asked you before, and I never got an answer.”
“Only you can say. I know not whether you and your father are hatching a scheme to take the diary from me.”
Pain rips through me, so sharp I can’t breathe. “Hatching? You really think…” I tear up. “Go to hell, you obstinate immortal! You’re too suspicious to trust even the first woman to give you an orgasm in centuries. You abducted me just because I reminded you of Morgana and—”
“I was more right than wrong. You are Le Fay.”
“Which doesn’t make me an evil bitch. But you don’t believe me. Let me go!”
“Never.”
Now he’s really pissing me off. “I’m serious. You’re never touching me again.”
“I am. In less than five minutes you will be screaming my name in climax.”
