Page 30 of Feral King

“Thanks,” I say, running my hand nervously up and down the seatbelt. “For dinner. And for everything else.”

He nods slowly. “My pleasure.”

I unbuckle the seatbelt. It’s time to get out, time to go into my apartment, and back to real life. But I don’t want to.

I should get out of the car, rush upstairs, drink an ice-cold glass of water, and try to put the strangeness of the night behind me.

I should scold myself for going on a candlelight date—or whatever this was—with a Bratva don and swear to never do anything like it again. I should start composing what I want to say to him in the morning.

I should. I should. I should.

“Goodnight, Lyra.”

Get out of the car, Lyra. Go upstairs. Get away from him and whatever’s happening as quickly as possible.

“Julian.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you really come to my alley tonight?”

He says nothing for a long moment, his hands on the wheel and his eyes fixed forward, as if he’s giving the question major thought. I watch his thumbs move slowly over the leather.

“Because I was worried about you.”

“Is that the only reason?”

He sighs.

“And because… because I wanted to see you.”

Out of the car. Get out of the car now.

But instead of following the good advice my mind is internally shouting at me, I lean across the center console, put my hand on his jaw, and kiss him.

I feel exhilarated the second it happens. I also feel like a total fool, but like I’m made of pure electricity. The kiss is a quick peck on his lips, like we’re at a fifth-grade dance.

His eyebrows arch in surprise. For a second, I think he’s going to tell me that I did something foolish and that I need to go inside.

But he doesn’t.

I sit back as he leans over me, his hand moving to the back of my neck as he brings his lips to mine. The kiss is deep and unhurried; the kind of kiss that rewires the way you think about kissing. His teeth graze my lower lip, and I groan.

I want his tongue and his taste, but he doesn’t give them to me. He breaks the kiss, and I rest my forehead against his, feeling his breath against my skin. His hand is still on my neck, and my mind is racing with ideas of all the other places I’d rather it be.

“Come upstairs,” I say.

He kills the engine.

That’s all the answer I need.

CHAPTER 10

LYRA

“Wait.”

We pause outside the door to my apartment. Julian’s eyes narrow as he leans in and places his ear against the door.