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Shivering, I yell when he pulls away, “Where are you going?”
“Drinking,” he snaps before throwing a look over his shoulder. “And you’re staying put until I get home.”
“You can’t order me a...around,” I stutter.
“Can’t I?” Dacre slithers, cocking a brow. “Say hello to your new babysitter.” Snarling an order to Baldur, he yanks the door open and leaves. Baldur watches me with yellow eyes before lying down in front of the door.
I can’t get out. And nobody can get in.
My stepbrother just trapped me and I put my fingers to my lips. They’re still tender from the kiss. Dacre feels something for me. And I feel something for him.
We’re both just as depraved.
And it’s a realization that feels just as exciting as it feels treacherous.
6.
Dacre
She didn’t want a dead man in the apartment. Which means the streets will have to take him instead.
Her wish is my fucking law it seems.
I’ve tracked down the target, found him after a couple of hours, cowering at the shank of a skanky bar while nursing harsh liquor and trying to calm his nerves. Sitting in the corner and hiding in the dark, I clench my fists from how bad I need to finish him.
I keep seeing his eyes plastered all over Greta’s frame. In that tiny mint green bikini, she looked like a siren and had he gotten his fingers on those straps, I would’ve ignored Greta’s request and finished him there and then.
Shifting in my seat, I sneer at the memory. Thank fuck she gave me her lips right after, otherwise I would’ve drove myself over the edge. I thought I kept her safe up in that penthouse, away from prying eyes and I rub my jaw in annoyance.
Here I thought she only needed protection when walking outside but apparently Greta needs more than that. From now on I’m leaving the damn dog with her whenever I leave. At least then I’ll be able to breathe.
Fixating my gaze on the target, I raise my brows when a woman in higher heels than she can handle walks up to him. She’s wearing a red leather dress and fishnet stockings, clearly the kind who gives her attention to anyone and yet the moron grins as if flattered.
Reaching for the gun by my side, I stroke the barrel, curious to see where this goes. Just like a cheap fuck he doesn’t offer to buy the woman a drink but instead he sloppily gets up. The woman lets out a hyena like laughter and helps to steady him.
Inwardly I snort.
Women.
Don’t they ever care about their fucking safety?
The couple walks through a cloud of smoke and disappears behind a back door and I’m quick to follow. Kicking crushed glass to the side, I cross the floor when I’m stopped by a girl wearing way too much makeup and hairspray.
“Going somewhere?” she asks and there’s lipstick on her teeth. “Why don’t you buy me a Sex on the Beach, handsome?”
“Not interested,” I snap, brushing past her and she cries after me,
“That stuck up, huh?”
More like can’t get it up, if the girl isn’t Greta. My body’s bound to hers. Unlike some of my brothers I don’t go to any temples or venerate any of the old god’s but I don’t need to. I already have something I venerate and it’s real and warm and soft and it smiles when I tell her I love her in her sleep.
Pushing the backdoor open, I step out into the alley and look around. A cat’s feasting on a trashcan to my left and I look to my right. The target and the woman are walking with their arms around each other and I track them.
“I love your blond hair,” the target drunkenly drawls, “if I squint it’ll almost be like fucking an uptown girl.” He bursts into laughter and fury rages in me. Unaware of that I’m coming after him, he pulls at the woman’s hair and she yaps,
“That hurts!”
“Yeah, whatever....,” the target turns from her. “Wait here, I need to take a leak.”
