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I felt like a schoolboy watching porn for the first time, but I couldn’t seem to stop smiling like an idiot. Her breathing was becoming even, her color losing that orgasmic blush and returning to her soft, creamy vanilla. My blood was smeared all over her thighs and pussy. There was even a small little pool on the couch mingled with her come.
Such a glorious sight…
The sting of the wound on my hand was starting to register slightly, so I turned my hand to look at the slice on my palm, an angry red gash from one side to the other. The blood was making my tattoo of my family insignia blurred. Moya Kotova—how accurate in this moment.
I walked over to the bar, grabbing a towel and a bottle of vodka to dull the sting.
When I started to make my way back, I was only mildly surprised to find just the remnants of our pleasure and golden threads from my clothes made by my Little Shadow. Turning just in time, I watched the back of her as she dashed out the door, the dress in hand.
I tipped back the bottle, the heated haze flowing through me, warming my body and fading the sting.
My guard came to the bar, a look of dumbfounded incredulity marking his features.
“The female fled Mr. Vasiliev,” he stated, clearing his throat when I didn’t respond but instead sighed wistfully.
I did not take my eyes off the beautiful wet mess on the couch across from me. Her scent was on me, mixed with the tang in the air of blood, pleasure, and pain.
Exactly what this girl has brought me.
“Sir?” He stared at me, and the smile I couldn’t seem to wipe off my face. “Are you going after her?”
I pondered that for a minute, already knowing I wasn’t but wondering why the fuck not.
I waved my hand at my loyal friend, yawning as the drowsiness took control of me.
“No,” I said, propping my head back against the wall and closing my eyes. “She’ll be back.”
Before sleep could wrap its claws fully around me, I gripped the slick dagger, pulling it to my heart. “She’s tasted the forbidden fruit, and now she’ll need more.”
Mitzi and Shadow were running around like idiots while I tried to find the perfect outfit for the date with a murdering madman. I sighed, throwing yet another pantsuit behind me onto the floor.
Ugh.
What to wear on a date with a killer?
My phone vibrated on the bed, and I growled, leaning over and pressing the answer button with my toe.
“Cassie, I think I really am going to murder you,” I complained, holding up a red camisole and blue jeans to my frame in the mirror across from me.
Maybe not wearing heels is easier, or I could pull a Snow White by using them as a weapon if needed.
Cassie tried to hide her tittering on the other end, and I cursed in protest.
“Yeah, okay! Well, that’s a hell of a thank you,Smella,” she griped. “Did you take a shower, at least? You don’t want to smell like dead people tonight, Babe.”
I laughed, not realizing she was serious. When she was just silent, I scoffed in exasperation. “Yes Cass! I am squeaky clean.”
“Good!” She squealed, and then my phone lit up on the bed with her pretty face popping up on the screen.
Rolling my eyes but accepting the video chat request, I immediately pointed the phone toward my wardrobe.
“Oh geez, Ella!” she said in a truly horrified tone. “O. M. G. No. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I pressed my lips in a firm line, not knowing what I should have expected from my debutant sister. Twenty minutes later, not ten as she’d promised, my sister smashed through my door with a scowl plastered on her face.
“This. Will. Not. Do,” she squawked. She was such a drama queen.
Sighing, I decided to let Cassie just demolish my small closet. It would be better than trying to interfere.
