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The air turned wired with the thump of a boot against the wood. I glanced up, appreciating Keltan’s muscled form, and his face, even if it was contorted in fury at that point in time.
“What the fuck are you doin’ in here, Lucy?” he clipped.
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m divesting myself of my fabulous yet painful footwear.” I pointed to the discarded shoes. Then I continued my journey into the kitchen. “And I’m under the distinct impression that I live here. So, I was going to pour a bottle of wine into a glass.”
My efforts to do just that were hampered when a calloused palm caught mine, roughly yanking me back and turning me around.
Keltan’s eyes were almost black.
He lifted his other hand so it grasped my jaw, not lightly but not painfully either.
“You think it’s a joke?” he asked quietly.
“What? You walking around my house like I’m the Queen of England and there’re assassins hiding amongst my coats?” I retorted. “Yes. I think that’s ridiculous.”
His grip tightened. “No. Your life. You think that’s a fuckin’ joke? Think that’s something ridiculous?” he growled. “’Cause I sure as shit don’t. And it just flashed before my fuckin’ eyes today because of that club that seems to be hurtin’ a fuck of a lot of women.”
I bristled, yanking away from his touch. “That club is my family, so you’ll be very careful about how you speak about them,” I warned.
He glared at me. “About them? How I speak about how that club nearly got the girl I consider to be my little sister kidnapped, after she’d already almost died at the hands of some fucker? How it almost killed her? How it made her have to know what it’s like to take a life? Have that shit tattooed on her soul?” he hissed.
I sucked in a breath. “Yeah, but that same club saved her. That man, the president of that club, gave her a daughter. He is a husband who would find a way to pluck a star from the sky if she asked; he loves her that much. It’s not human, what they have. You’re tarnishing it with your insinuations.”
He stepped forward, his hands fists beside him. “They’re not insinuations if it’s not a fuckin’ lie,” he half yelled. “How about Amy? The woman my best friend fell in love with. Died loving. That club took her too. Almost killed her too. Made her taste death too. And Mia. And Lily. And now fuckin’ you. I’m not watching you get tangled up in this shit too, Snow. You know I’ve seen you in danger twice. Once when bullets were flying, another when a car blew up that you were meant to be sittin’ in. Both those times, the flag with that reaper was flying.” His eyes were resolute. “I won’t let you taste death on your tongue.”
I rolled my eyes. “I already have, and it wasn’t the club that gave me the ugliest life has to give. But if you feel so strongly, why are you here? There’s the door.” I pointed to the hallway.
He stayed in his spot, breathing heavily.
I cocked a brow. “What? Need a map?”
His eyes darkened. “No, I need you.”
Thoughts of wine and car bombs and even broken arms went out the window, replaced by one simple one.
The need to feel alive.
We both came at each other at the same moment. His hands tangled in my hair roughly and exquisitely.
I moaned at the pain, and the pleasure of his kiss, melting into it. Letting it wash over me and banish everything else.
“Snow,” he growled against my mouth. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I glared at him. “Well too bad. I want you to. Hurt me so I don’t remember the rest of the pain.”
His eyes flared, and then he yanked my hair back and crushed his mouth to mine. Before I could properly gauge what was going on, I was on the kitchen counter with Keltan between my legs, his hardness pressing into my core.
He continued to kiss me like my mouth was his only source of oxygen.
“I need you inside me,” I rasped between kisses.
His black eyes flared with desire, need and worry.
“Only way you’re going to hurt me is if you don’t,” I hissed as he roughly tweaked my nipple through the fabric of my T-shirt.
He didn’t need more than that. My tee was quickly history, and his mouth settled on my nipple.
I cried out with the building in my stomach, the lightning bolts of pleasure that came with the gesture.
He didn’t hesitate to move down, to lift me—taking care with my awkward arm—and drag off my pants and panties. I was exposed to him on the kitchen counter, my eyes glued to the apex between my thighs.
“Keltan,” I pleaded.
He hissed out a breath when I used my uninjured hand to yank him between my legs and fumble with his belt.
