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My fangs lengthened.Mine.
Gods, I wanted to taste her, drink from that hot, succulent vein.
She stared back, dark eyes wide, a rabbit facing down a wolf.
I dragged my gaze away. Took the whiskey glass from her and set it on a tray in the mini-bar.
“No,” I said, rough-voiced, as I poured myself a large glass of blood-wine. “It’s a limited-edition scotch from a brewery we own in Scotland. Next time, try sipping it.”
“Oh.” She chewed her lower lip. “Actually, now I kind of like it. I feel—.” She shook her head.
“What?”
Her sleek updo was already showing signs of wear. I tucked a wayward strand behind her ear, amused in spite of myself. The woman was the polar opposite of most of our thralls with their perfect faces and surgically enhanced bodies.
Mila turned her head to rub her cheek against my hand, then went rigid when she realized what she’d done. But she didn’t pull away.
“What do you feel?” I prompted. I fingered the hairclip, itching to remove it for the sheer rush of seeing her silky brown curls tumble down around her shoulders.
But I hadn’t forgotten the men in the front seat. I could wait until we were alone.
“Hot,” she whispered without looking at me. “I feel hot.”
I stifled a groan. Need churned in me like a savage, white-capped river.
It was only the thought of Zaq—chained with silver and at the mercy of some sadistic vampire who couldn’t even be bothered to heal the wounds he’d inflicted while feeding—that made me withdraw to my side of the limo.
I sipped my blood-wine, deliberately focusing on its rich, slightly saline taste.
The woman ran.Hid from you for three fucking years. So desperate to escape you that she lived in tiny, roach-infested apartments and drove a beater car.
Even if she wasn’t a plant, she was only here now because she wanted something.
Mila withdrew into herself again, toeing off the high heels and curling up in her corner of the limo to stare out the window. As we crossed the Williamsburg Bridge, she jerked to attention.
“Where are you taking me?”
I set my finished glass on the tray and closed the mini-bar. “Why do you care?”
Something flickered in her eyes. “I want to know. What’s so strange about that?”
Suspicion formed a hard, ugly ball in my stomach. “You’re mine now,” I reminded her softly. “You go where I tell you to go.”
Her full mouth compressed. The wordsFuck youformed on her lips, but she bit them back.
My suspicion ratcheted higher. Since when did Mila hold back? She was one of the most honest, straightforward people I knew. If she was happy, you knew; and if she was pissed off, you knew that, too.
As the limo wound its way through Brooklyn traffic to the Long Island Expressway, I took out my laptop to handle a few Syndicate issues that had cropped up during the night.
Questions burned in my mind. But I could wait until we got to my locked-down, secluded beach house.
Mila wasn’t going anywhere.
7
Mila
Islanted a glance from beneath my lashes at Gabriel. In the limo’s dark interior, the light from his laptop screen cast his face into sharp relief.
