Sebastian smiled, his eyes glinting with the sick pleasure he took in lording his eternal hold over me. “Don’t forget your place, boy.”
Thirty-Seven
Asher
Ronan’s witch was everything I hated in a woman.
Total pain in the ass. Too smart for her own good. Gorgeous as hell. And a hundred and fifty percent off fucking limits.
Hands on her hips, she squared off with me in the living room, refusing to give an inch. “Do you know where Ronan went?"
I let my gaze roam over her curves, down to the bloody slashes in her shirt.
Jesus.
My fists tightened, nails digging into my palms. No wonder Ronan sounded so blitzed on the phone.Get here, he’d said.Fucking now.
I pointed at her shirt. “I suspect he's having a chat with whatever didthat.”
She folded her arms across her midsection. “Thatwas a nightmare.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Cupcake.”
I had no idea what the hell happened. All I’d managed to get out of Ronan was that she’d been attacked in her sleep, probably by a hellhound.
Ignoring me, Gray turned away and stalked down the hallway. When she came back, she was wearing a baggy, ugly-ass Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt, hiding everythingwomanabout her.
Made me miss that pink-and-white getup she’d had on in the park that day. The one that’d made her look like a cupcake.
Good enough to lick off all the frosting.
“So are you just going to stand there staring at me like an idiot all night?” she snapped.
“Would you like that, Cupcake?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Hmm. Is this the part where you tell me how much of a real man you are, and bait me into begging you for something?”
“Is that a challenge?” I asked.
“Is that a yes?”
“Mmm.” Made my dick hard just thinking about it, but… Nope. Bad idea. Terrible. The worst. “Your boy Ronan would lock my ass in a devil’s trap faster than you could say abracadabra, little witch.”
Her cheeks flamed, and she stormed off into the kitchen, giving me no choice but to follow.
Reaching up into a cupboard over the sink, she pulled down a couple of shot glasses, then set them down on the table, gesturing for me to sit.
I hung my helmet off the back of the chair and pulled the booze out of the bag.
“Hungry?” she asked. “I’ve got some leftover chicken fajitas from El Sarape if you’re interested.”
“Yeah?” My stomach rumbled, and I smiled up at her, first real one all night. “Sure, sounds good. Thank you.”
“You want me to zap it?”
“Nah. Cold is just fine.”
She got out a plate, set it all up for me.
