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He dangles me in front of him like I weigh nothing and I grip his powerful shoulders. “We’ll see.” He forces me against the wall again, wraps my legs around his waist, and kisses me.
Okay, this is what all the fuss is about. For months I’ve heard stories about the chemistry between mates. It seemed as if they were lying. The all-consuming heat they felt was unlikely. I’ve been kissed before. I’ve felt the tingles that are supposed to be there, but this is a whole different level. Fireworks shoot through me. My body fills with liquid heat. I forget about my bruised face and my back.
Bash fuses his mouth to mine, fire shooting between us. He explores every inch, sucking on my tongue, which sounds disgusting, but not how he does it. He slides one hand from my ass, up my back, and grips the back of my head. His hand clenching my hair, pulling slightly, causing a pull deep in my stomach. I forget about everything but his hands and mouth on me.
He pulls back, biting on my lip. My breath is ragged.
“Let me take you home,” he growls.
“Yes, please,” I say weakly. At this moment, I would agree to anything to keep him close.
***
Bash remained tensely silent on the drive to my place. After releasing me, he moved all my shopping bags from Ava’s car to his. Ava gave me a quick hug, assured me that it would be alright, and promised to call.
I’m having second thoughts. Not about being his mate, but about him seeing my apartment. I know what it looks like. Bash’s wardrobe probably cost more than the whole apartment building. I’m worried that he will judge me. I’m afraid he’ll take one look and change his mind.
He didn’t seem too happy about having a mate in the first place. I didn’t question the facts. I feel safe in his presence. He may be tense and cold, but he wouldn’t hurt me. It felt right to be with him. The universe may have made a mistake; he was too beautiful, too sophisticated for me.
I’m suddenly feeling self-conscious about the way I am dressed. I should have changed into my new clothes, but how was I supposed to know I would meet my dark angel? The hoodie I had on wasn’t even one of my good ones. I had a stain on the side of it from a mystery substance. I’m surprised he didn’t run the other way. His car is beautiful, too. I have no idea what kind it is, but it’s sporty and sleek, and the interior is leather. The seat cups my ass like a lover's hand. I keep my hands in my lap, afraid to touch anything for fear of damaging the buttery leather.
My stomach churns. I don’t attempt conversation. I glance at his hard profile. The fuck-off vibes ooze from him. I don’t think it’s because of me; it’s his usual aura. The closer we get to my place, the harder his expression gets.
I feel like I’m going to puke. This is a horrible idea.
He parks in an available spot, turns off the car, and stares at the building. Shit, this is so not good. He opens his door and steps out without a word. I scramble after him.
“Should we get the bags?” I ask, running after him when he doesn’t stop.
“No,” he says.
He scowls when I run in front of him to open the front door of the building. We don’t have an elevator that works, so we have to walk up to the second floor. My apartment is at the end of the hallway.
Bash is still scowling when I unlock the door and open it. My hand shakes as I turn on the light and step in. I looked around, ensuring I didn’t leave any underwear lying around. I try to keep it as nice as possible. I know it’s not much, but it’s mine.
Bash looks around, frowning, and remains quiet. I imagine he is looking at my stained carpet, small kitchen, and rickety table in pity. My couch is secondhand. It has a rip on one of the arms, and one side has lost some of the stuffing. The best part of the whole place is the small balcony. Sometimes I sit out there, drinking coffee, and imagine being in a grand hotel. I dream a lot. I dream about a better life, a better house, a great job, and a man to share it with me. I want love so badly. Watching Bash now, though, I don’t think he will easily be the one to love me.
“I’m here safe. You can go now,” I say, going back to the door. “Tell Ava to take the clothes back. Ryker paid for them anyway. I thought it was a nice gesture, but now I feel like shit spending his money. Tell him thanks, though,” I say stiffly. I’m trying to hold back the tears building in my eyes. I don’t know why I thought I could have a life of beautiful things. Bash is beautiful, but he’s cold and too hard to touch.
He turns slowly to me. His eyes travel over my face. “You are coming with me; pack your shit.” He waves his hand toward the room.
“Excuse me?” I ask, glaring.
Chapter Five
Bash
Marie is fuming as she sits next to me in the car with her arms crossed protectively over her chest. I had to practically carry her to the car. After having a staring contest while standing in her shithole of an apartment and arguing about the fact she was coming with me, she gave in and packed a bag. She stomped around, making sure I was aware of her displeasure. She had no idea who she was dealing with. I’ve had too many years of getting my way; she didn’t stand a chance.
When the door opened to Ryker’s office, and I caught her scent and saw her face, it was over. My head didn’t want a mate. I didn’t want to be responsible for the safety and happiness of one. I fought it. I really tried to fight it.
I felt my eyes turning. A white ring appears around your eyes when a vampire finds his mate. It might be hard to tell with how light mine are, but I know it’s there. If I had any doubts, looking at Ryker sealed it.
My heart expanded within my chest. It now beats for her. The amount of shit I gave Ryker when he found Serenity is going to come back to me and bite me in the ass. I feel what I imagine he felt. This desire to claim her, to turn her, fuels me. I want her to be chained to me for all time. I want her to look to me for everything. But most of all, I want to fuck the shit out of her.
I didn’t understand why she thought less of herself. She was stunning. I wanted her long hair spread out over my pillow. I wanted her scent all over my sheets. I want her skin bare and begging for my touch. She was tiny. It gave me ideas about carrying her around, positioning her where I wanted her. The things I could do to her. Her delicate face drew my eyes constantly. I was good at moving too fast for her to notice.
I know I’m not worthy of being her mate. I was used to being alone. Even though I have known many women, I didn’t know how to talk to them. I didn’t know how to make her happy. What if she asked about my past? Should I tell her all the horrible things I have done?
