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I rolled my eyes. “For fuck’s sake. Please, Zayn, please fuck me with your huge c—” I never finished the sentence, crying out as he thrust inside with such force my arms gave out under me and I fell forward onto my elbows. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging in as he pulled out and thrust inside again and again, deeper each time, driving me to the very edge of pain and pleasure. I wanted to beg him to stop and beg him to never stop, but there was no way I could make up my mind with the punishing way he drove into me.
He reached around and circled my clit again. His touch was firm but gentle, like cool water compared to the fire of his desire for me. It drove me higher and higher until I cried out his name. He grabbed my hair, jerking me up painfully against him, the marks on my back stinging as they rubbed against his chest. He pulled my head to the side and drove his teeth into my neck, and I came again, exploding around him as he found his own release deep inside me. His arm snaked around my waist, holding me in place as I came apart, thrusting deep inside a few more times until he let me go, lowering me gently forward onto the bed.
I rolled onto my back, looking up at him. His dark eyes glittered, his hair was as wild as my own, and his lips were covered in my blood. He leaned down, and at first I thought he was going to kiss me. He didn’t. Instead, he looped his arms under my thighs and brought my already sensitive pussy to his mouth. I wriggled underneath him, gasping as his lips fastened onto my clit.
“Fuck, Zayn... I can’t...”
It turned out I could. Twice.
Thirteen
TORY
Ithoughttimewoulddrag in the safehouse, but when I got past the whole not leaving part, I actually found I quite enjoyed myself. It turned out the house was surrounded by a twelve-foot high wall covered in security cameras, and there was only one way in or out, which was through a gate with a numbered lock that only a few people knew the code to. I’ll admit to being rather irked that I was not deemed suitable to be one of the persons who was allowed to know the code, but I realised my recent tendencies to run away probably made that an understandable decision. I wasn’t planning on running though. I’d promised my father I’d take these threats seriously, and we still didn’t have any information on who had drugged me in the bar and what their intentions had been. It seemed strange to hope it had just been an attempt by some dickhead guy to shag me, but the guys had been quite clear there could have been worse consequences if it had been my stalker.
After that night, I was in no mood to run or go off on my own. I had tried calling Jasper a few times, but he’d never picked up. He had sent me a stupid text saying that he was sorry—again—and that he understood if I wanted to report him to the police for assault. I reminded him about how apologies would lead to singing descant and told him to stop being stupid and answer the phone. He didn’t, and he didn’t reply to the text either. I was worried about him, but whether it was selfish or not, I was more concerned about the fact I’d attacked someone in the bar and drank their blood. When I’d found out about what I was back in Egypt, they’d reassured me I wouldn’t need to feed on humans, but I hadn’t realised I might feel the temptation to. I’d written biting Jasper off as a heat of the moment thing, but there had been no excuse for the guy in the bar. To be honest, I didn’t trust myself anymore, and I was afraid if I went out in public that I’d bite someone else.
I’d been a bit quiet, my mind running over every detail about that night that I could remember, not that I could remember much except the odd image. I felt useless, and that bothered me. I think the guys sensed it because they seemed to band together to keep me occupied. Wesley had brought another pile of books from the British Library, and we’d spent several evenings discussing recent archaeological papers and discoveries over a bottle of wine.
Zayn and Jack still worked as security, but in shifts, so when they were off, they spent most of their time with me. Zayn had decided I needed to learn how to fight as a human and had devoted many long hours to training me with the khopesh. If he thought there would be some remnants of memory about how to use it, he was very sadly mistaken. We’d had several training sessions now, and I was still fairly useless with the wicked-looking blade. After the incident at the bar, Zayn had also decided it might be a good idea to learn self-defence techniques, and thankfully I was definitely better with those than the khopesh.
Jack was my light relief. He’d sat me down and walked me through the remote controls for all the different streaming platforms. The main room of the house had a glass wall along the back of it that looked out across a lawn to the trees beyond. I couldn’t see the huge surrounding wall from here, and it gave me the impression there was nothing but trees for miles. A large corner sofa dominated the end of the room opposite the kitchen, sitting across from a wood burning stove and a large chimney on which hung a decent-sized TV. Jack had shown up one morning with a pile of squashy cushions and warm blankets, and we’d spent several hours working our way through a Netflix series.
West had been strangely absent. He’d show up now and again to talk to Zayn and Jack, but he had kept his distance from me. Zayn had insisted he was just really busy. As well as security shifts, he was travelling into London on a regular basis to investigate “concerns.” The logical part of me accepted this, while another part had pretty much decided he was definitely avoiding me after the night of the bar fight. I’d remembered a bit about when we’d got to the safe house—Jabari standing by the console table in the main room, West yelling at me, and some of the things he’d said. Zayn had assured me that West had been under the influence of whatever drug my drink had been spiked with, and that he hadn’t meant any of it, but I wasn’t so sure. It felt strange not being around him though. As much as the man drove me up the wall, there was definitely a solid, reassuring presence that I was missing. Not that I’d tell him that.
That was why I was surprised, and annoyingly happy, to see him walk through the door while Zayn was helping me practise self-defence techniques. We’d been training outside for most of it, but a summer storm the night before had left the lawn wet and muddy, and there was a nice thick rug in here for Zayn to fall on. When West walked through the door, I was, however, lying face down on the floor where Zayn had just managed to throw me.
“Lying down on the job?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow.
“Was that actually a joke, West?” I asked, getting up and grabbing my water bottle from the coffee table that had been pushed out of the way.
“Definitely not. I never joke.”
I looked at him, still slightly confused, but there was a sparkle in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. I just shook my head at him and took a drink.
West looked over at Zayn. “Is Jack on patrol duty?”
Zayn nodded.
“And Wesley?”
“Coming around tonight to watch a movie.”
“Good,” West said. “I can fill them in later.”
“You know something?” I asked. Panic bubbled inside of me. “Are my parents okay?”
He raised his eyebrows. “As far as I know.”
“You haven’t got people watching them?” I questioned, concerned.
“No, my lady. They sort their own security. I’m only here for yours.”
“But they don’t know why I’m in danger, why they are by association. Surely—”
“Tory, don’t worry. You are the target. With you away from home, they are much safer than if you were still there,” Zayn reasoned.
West nodded. “Exactly.” He dropped down onto the sofa, gesturing for us to take a seat. “So it’s taken a few days to chase all the leads I had, but yes, we know something, and I’m hoping Wesley will be able to help with more information later.”
