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Creep’s eyes flare with anger. True anger, not the cocky, arrogant irritation he normally wears around me like I’m thebutt of some fucked-up joke. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a look of profound and unfettered fury pave its way across his face before.
“Donotassume things about me, Dev.” His voice is cold, hard, and angry, lacking its usual amusement. “I know my mate better than you thinkyoudo. I know she’s not a child in need of coddling. She’s a grown-ass woman who’s endured unspeakable challenges over the years yet has come out stronger because of it. Aliana’s not weak, and she doesn’t need you to go all caveman on her ass. Do I want to know she’s safe and secure? Of fucking course. Do I think I need to babysit her twenty-four seven to ensure that happens? Not at all.Mygirl could probably kill you with just her pinkie finger if she wanted to.”
The smile he flashes me reminds me of the sharp edge of a blade, as do his words.
They’re meant to stab and cut and make me bleed.
Frustration and rage expand the knot in my throat, especially at his word choice.
Mygirl.
No. Not his girl.
Never his.
I flex my hands by my sides, and I don’t know if it’s because I want to carve Creep open with my claws or find Aliana and spank her until she can’t move for a solid week. I want her ass painted red by my hand for daring to scare me like this.
As soon as I find her, the two of us are going to…
Go where?
My museum home, which was destroyed by the Eights and Nines during their last attack?
Tesq’s home in the abandoned subway?
No, she wouldn’t choose to remain with the goddamn Grotesque, would she? An unnerving feeling frays my gut.
She. Is. Mine.
The direction of my thoughts drags a dry, humorless laugh from my lips. It’s fucking futile.
As if I could possibly claim Aliana. I’ve tried—trust me, I did—but that damn girl refuses to be owned. She’s a beautiful, carnivorous plant—pretty but able to swallow you whole. Perhaps I’ll only ever have the illusion of owning her, claiming her, loving her.
The revelation is a dagger to my chest. Only this dagger is on fire, has been tipped with acid, and is stabbing me repeatedly.
“Aliana’s smart,” Creep continues, his gaze faraway and distant.
I know, then, that he’s not just thinking about the woman he claims to love. No, that despondent gleam in his eyes is due to the bastard of a monster who came back from the dead. Who shouldn’t exist.
His father.
I want to ask him questions—and not all of them are tactful. Actually, none of them are. Mainly, I want to know how he fucked up so badly and didn’t really kill the asshole the first time around—but I hold my tongue.
Aliana would be proud of my restraint.
See? I’m learning.
“She would’ve made it out of the building, probably with Tesq and Em—if she was able to rescue him. They would know to get out of the area. It’s not safe for her here.” Creep runs the pad of his finger underneath his chin, where a few jagged scars line the flesh there.
“So you think she’s heading back to the Grotesque’s hovel?” Possessive jealousy and rage flow through me at the thought, mainly because I can’t help but remember the last time we were in that room.
When I was forced to witness two Terrors tag team the love of my existence, unable to do anything but watch.
That was the worst moment of my life. And also the hottest.
Fuck.
I shove all thoughts of her red, sweaty face, hooded eyes, and parted lips to the side. So what if I get hard just thinking about that moment? I only ever want her to orgasm forme.
