If I join them, they’ll know something is wrong and ask questions. I can’t tell them the truth for their own safety, and the pain of lying to them would drive me to my knees—my magic would make sure of that. Avoidance is my best option. I wish it didn’t sting so much. Keeping my distance has shown me how important my friends at the Fang are to me.
Sighing, I close the door behind me and freeze. I’m not alone.
I cock one hip and raise my chin, ignoring how the extra weight on the ball of my left foot makes me want to lop it off and throw it at his fucking head. “You look like shit,” I say, running my eyes over him.
I’m not just being bitchy; Alistair really does look terrible. His blue eyes are sunken, and his pale skin somehow skipped porcelain and went straight to corpse white.
“And you’re beautiful, as always,” he says, something wild flickering across his face.
I narrow my eyes. His voice sounds like he hasn’t cleared his throat in a decade, but why do I even care? Alistair isn’t my problem. He never was.
“There’s no reason to flatter me,” I say. “You got what you wanted. Do us both a favor and stop pretending.”
Alistair sits down on a wooden crate, and I settle sullenly on the one across from him. I feel cheated by his appearance. He isn’t struggling because of me—and I want him punished at my hands or no one’s.
“We were good together,” he says, his eyes raking over my legs.
I bite back everything I want to say. Alistair has no right to look at me as if he’s starving. Not anymore. I’ve tolerated him showing up at my fights because I can’t stop him and he introduced me to Resker, but he doesn’t get to sneak around the Fang acting pitiful. The “we”he throws around so casually is broken. He did that all on his own.
I let my knees fall open—punishing and testing him at the same time. My inner thighs wail in relief, and I laugh out loud. “Of course we were good together,” I say. “We’re both hot and great in bed. Why wouldn’t the sex be awesome?”
“It was more than that,” Alistair snaps.
“Maybe to you...” I shrug, being careful to trail off before my magic can call me a liar. “For a dildo and a slut, we did exactly what we were designed to do: fuck and come.”
Alistair winces, and I smile. Luca told me to take my power back. I doubt he meant this, but when you give vague advice, you should expect creative liberties to be taken. I’m sore and tired. If I want to see how far I can push Alistair to cheer myself up, I will.
I spread my legs wider and massage my right inner thigh.
Alistair grabs the edges of his crate and scoots closer. My green bodysuit is sheer. He can see right through it, and he’s not pretending to look anywhere else.
My pulse jumps, and I fake a yawn as I drop my legs open fully. The fabric shifts against my pussy. It’s irritating, confining, and I want someone—not Alistair—to tear it off me.
“You seem to be missing your dildo,angel,” he whispers.
My eyes lift to his, and my body comes alive under his stare, every nerve singing with anticipation. The magnetism between us is unreal, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I want Alistair to beg to touch me.
I want him to crawl for me.
Maybe then I’ll be able to forget what he said.
“Dildos wear out,” I say, deliberately skating my thumb over the crotch of my bodysuit. My nerves light up, then sputter with disappointment when the erotic touch stops. Who am I teasing? Him or me?
Alistair’s gaze collides with mine. The naked hunger...
“Please,” he hisses, palming the outline of his hard cock.
I smile, soaking in his desperation. There’s no better revenge than giving him a taste of what he threw away. Deliberately nonchalant, I lean back, my lower half liquefying under the heat of his stare.
“No biting. No kissing on the mouth. No being nice,” I say, showing him the angry angel behind the sexy act. “If I allow you to fuck me again, you don’t get to play pretend.”
“But—”
“Take it or leave it, Alistair. You won’t get another chance.”
He drops to his knees on the concrete floor and inches toward me at a glacial pace. My leg muscles burn. I order them not to tremble under the strain of my wide stance.
