Page 22 of Live Love Lasso

I nod. I can’t find the words to talk about that time in my life.

Instead, I press closer and guide her mouth to my neck again. “Kiss,” I command. “I don’t give you permission to bite me.”

She whines softly, and my cock jolts in my pants at how she obeys the command. She closes her lips over my scars, and I groan, tightening my fist in her hair. The pressure from her mouth combined with the heat have me throbbing in anticipation of her. I want to come and want her to get off all over me.

When she licks a long stripe down my neck to my collarbone, my knees buckle.

“Fuck.” I grip her throat and put pressure beneath her chin, forcing her to look up. “We’re getting outta hand, city girl. Let’s take a step back, alright?”

She nips at her lip, and that simple move almost undoes me. I can’t stop fucking staring at her. But flashes of an old life and bitter resentment have reality flooding back in. I can’t lose control around this woman, and I’m two seconds from tossing that self-control right in the garbage.

I didn’t even know her two days ago.

“Furyon,” she whispers, and even the way she says my name has my dominance rising in a way it hasn’t in decades.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me again.” It’s somewhere between a demand and a plea. But if I go there again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself.

“Not tonight.” I grin at her. “Oz was right about that tension though, wasn’t he? You’re a damn good kisser, Miss Knox.”

She lifts her chin and lets out a displeased-sounding growl. Slipping off my counter, she flares her shadow wings wide, pushing me until I hit the fridge. Dragging black claws down my chest, she snarls at me. “I won’t forget this tease, Furyon. Do you get off on withholding?"

I slip my hands into my pockets, grinning at her. “Among other things.”

Her answering growl has my fangs throbbing to sink into that pretty, creamy throat. I wanna drink her down, and I haven’t drunk blood from another monster in almost sixty years.

“I’m leaving,” she says. “Good night, Mister Zayle.”

I don’t remind her that Mister Zayle’s my father. But I do watch her stalk around my kitchen island and out the door. She bullets up into the sky on those beautiful wings and disappears into the darkness, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts and a damn inconvenient hard-on.

Lemon

“Stay away from Furyon.”

I whip around in the line at BrewHaHa Beans, unsure if the voice was talking to me.

Furyon’s second-in-command, the black-coated minotaur female, stands there with both fists balled. I look around in surprise, but only Oz is in line ahead of me.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” the female says. “I think you’ve got Furyon all confused, but I see through you.”

I lift a hand. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I am not the criminal here, Echo. It is Echo, isn’t it?”

She points two fingers at her eyeballs and then at me, the universal signal for keeping one’s eyes on another. “Got my eyes on you, city girl.”

“Okay…” That’s all I can manage as she spins and stalks out the door.

Does nothing happen in private in this haven? Or were she and Furyon talking about me? Maybe they were discussing how he found me last night with the horses. Fuck. I don’t like it, whatever it is.

Brows raised, I look at Oz’s back. He spins in place and gives me a faux shocked look. “Okay, girl, what was all of that about?”

“Don’t know,” I lie. Surely Echo isn’t aware that Furyon kissed me last night. If I can even call that a kiss. I definitely didn’t go home and think about it for a while. And I definitely didn’t think about it again this morning when I opened the door to find my Welcome Book sitting there on my stairs. No note, but I know it was him.

“Okay, keep your secrets.” Oz lifts his chin like he’s mad, bumping my hip with his as he steps away from the counter, tucking his wings tightly at his back. “I’ll find out eventually. Maybe I’ll sic Merit and Bryony on you. They could squeeze gossip water out of a stone, I swear.”

I roll my eyes. Unless they’ve got spies at Furyon’s house, I’ll be taking that kiss to my grave. Not to mention it’s none too promising to kiss me in one breath and remind me I’m under investigation in the next.

Instead of spilling the beans to Oz, I order a type A latte, grateful the darling coffee shop has something with blood in it. After last night, I’m desperate to suck down some premium ruby gold.