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But my mouth remained firmly shut.
Slayers, Inc. had let me down in so many ways. Still, other than my halmoni, they were all I had. My family. My friends.
Without SI, what was I?
I couldn’t go home. My halmoni would be so ashamed of me. She’d been a top slayer in her day, the famous Ghost who’d notched over a dozen kills.
And my dad had checked out years ago. He didn’t even live in Los Angeles anymore; after Mom had been killed, he moved back to Korea. I hadn’t seen him since her funeral.
Brien’s lips thinned. “That’s what I thought. But you’re mine now. Try anything, and I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.”
Anger flared. I allowed it to fill me, knowing such a strong, hot emotion would obliterate everything else—the fear, the yearning.
“Yes,sir.”
He muttered something dark and released me. I stepped back, rubbing my right wrist.
He scowled. “I hurt you.”
I lifted a shoulder. “It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just go,” he said without looking at me. “You have the night off.”
I stared at him. He’d gotten me all worked up, and now he was sending me away? I should be grateful but fuck that.
“What if I don’t want the night off?”
His nostrils flared. His head swung in my direction like a beast scenting prey. “Go,” he repeated in a low, goaded tone.
I went.
10
BRIEN
“So.” Cain fingered the shark tat on the side of his neck. “What’s the plan?”
We’d turned on a sound-cloaking device, an invention of Cain’s. Anyone trying to listen in on our conversation would hear only white noise…loud, irritating white noise, especially to a vampire’s ultra-sensitive hearing.
Still, out of habit we’d formed a tight circle in my living room and were speaking in low voices. You get that way when you live in a viper’s pit.
I scrubbed a hand over my hair and tried to focus on Cain’s question, but I was still horny and on edge from the encounter with Twilight. I could feel that taut body pressed against mine, taste her soft skin…
I should’ve never brought her back to the castle. She was a distraction. A sexy, too-tempting distraction—the last thing I needed right now.
So take her. She’s yours. What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?
But even with the craving riding me hard—even though Iownedthe woman—I hadn’t been able to bring myself to fuck her again. Not if she wasn’t totally on board.
And she wasn’t.
She wanted me—that much hadn’t been a lie. She’d been wet for me, her heart beating fast, her breath coming in eager rushes.
But she didn’twantto want me, and that was a gut-punch.
Because she had wanted me, once. In Montreal, she’d been as hot for me as I’d been for her.
Or had that just been part of the act?
