AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And he’s never come home smelling of perfume or sporting a lipstick stained collar.
I think he’s a monk, my stepbrother.
The city lights flare before him and I tilt my head to side, admiring what a powerful figure he is. Those strong legs, that spine of steel and those looks of his...well, they make a girl tingle and gulp at the same time.
His silver hair’s shaved on the sides and he’s tattooed those naked parts of his scalp. Even the back of his hands are tattooed and he wears silver skull rings. Those rings scare me a little. Scratch that.Dacrescares me.
Menace emits from him like incense and he’s so unlike the boys I grew up with and thought I’d marry. It’s those haughty mamas’ boys I was made for. Them I know how to handle. I don’t have a single clue on how to handle Dacre. Because I wasn’t made for him.
“I know you’re watching me.”
The words along with his husky voice turn my cheeks into two hotplates and I drag a breath. Rearranging my hair, I step onto the balcony and breathe, “I wasn’t watching you.”
Silence.
“What were you doing then?” he finally asks. “Admiring me?” He lets out a hoarse laugh. “Now, I know it can’t be that.”
Wrong. That’s exactly what I was doing.
I always admire him, even if he terrifies me and makes me feel more fretful than an actress who’s had her “discreet” nose job exposed. A siren flares in the distance and the sound makes me jump. Luckily Dacre doesn’t notice.
“Why don’t you come closer? I won’t bite.”
“Your dog might,” I mutter, throwing a nervous glance at Baldur. The wolf/dog hybrid follows Dacre everywhere and it’s really true that you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their pet. They’re both about as approachable as a haunted house.
“He won’t,” Dacre says curtly. “You’re safe.”
Dacre slowly turns around and my breath catches somewhere between my lungs and my throat. Midnight blue eyes zone in on me, picking up on every little detail and it’s so painfully obvious I’m not even close to his type.
I’m too...pretty.
And someone like Dacre’s probably into leather, whips and chains or something.
He raises his brows, drawing attention to the tattoos he has above the arches. He’s the only man I’ve ever seen who has ink on his face but dresses like a gothic version of a Wall Street broker.
“Something wrong?” he asks in a low voice and I want to tell him all about the blackmail. When I press my lips, he impatiently insists, “Greta?”
A sudden impulse rips through my body. I want to run over to him, yank his arms open and cocoon myself within them. I need comfort. Need it so bad it’s probably written all over my face.
“You can tell me,” Dacre presses, his tone a little more urgent but I shake my head.
I’d rather wear clothes from the high-street for the rest of my life than tell Dacre about the blackmail.
“If there’s anything you want or need, just say it,” Dacre grits between his teeth and I flush.
I could use a hug. I’m not sure if I dare let myself be hugged by Dacre but I’m distressed and confused and reach a hesitant hand out.
Surprise covers his face but he raises his palm and my heart pounds worse than drums on a rock concert when I’m about to give him mine...But then I retract when Baldur curiously rises and I gasp for air and flee.
CHAPTER TWO
Dacre
Fuck! I was so close.
Scowling down at Baldur, I snarl, “Cock blocking the hand that feeds you?”
Baldur growls in response and I add, “Next time when she’s ready to go anywhere near us, you’ll act like a fucking lamb or I’ll make kibble out of you and feed it to the neighborhood cats, got it?”
