night outside the wall of windows to his left, and a scent he knew all too well permeated the air around him—a delectable tang that made his fists clench against the sheets at his back and the cock resting between his legs pulse.
Eau d’equal parts frustration and the need to fuck.
Yeah, he knew who’d brought that in on her coat.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he uttered, pulling himself up to a sitting position.
Dillon sat at the foot of the bed, her gold head and fierce cat eyes trained on him, the dark night her backdrop.“Your security is shit, Impure. I believe I could’ve gotten in here with a blindfold and a collar made of bells.”
Gray dropped back against the pillows. “You think you strolled in here without being detected? Come on, D.” He clucked his tongue. “You got in because I okayed it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You knew I’d come.”
“Eventually. You always come when you need something.”
“Not true.” She moved around the side of the bed, the strength in every feline movement almost hypnotic. “Maybe I just wanted to visit with an old friend.”
“Yeah, that sounds like you,” he said drily. To anyone sane, visiting was about relaxed conversation and a desire to see what the other person had been up to since you last saw them. For Dillon it was strictly about purpose: saving someone’s ass, trading information, finding a way to get whatever it was she wanted in that moment.
Gray wondered how long it would be before she decided to start asking. Or maybe he’d make it begging.
“What happened here?” she asked, her eyes pinned to his. “Why were you passed out when I arrived? Partying too hard?”
“That’s right. I’m a nineteen-year-old frat boy.” He swung his legs off the bed and got up. He needed out of these clothes, into something clean, something that didn’t smell like dried blood from the Impure warrior snack at his temples earlier. “It was nothing, just a little pain in the head.” He knocked his chin her way. “Which is now being replaced with a pain in the ass.”
“You’re speaking metaphorically, right?” she hissed. “Because I don’t think it was your ass I bit back at the Romans.” She followed him to the closet, watched him as he pulled off his shirt.
“Listen, I have somewhere to be, so why don’t you tell me why you’ve escaped your brothers again and come running to me.”
“I didn’t run,” she said indignantly. “Though this neighborhood isn’t the greatest for a lady to be walking around in at night.”
Lady. He snorted. “What do you want, D? Patience is growing thin here.”
“All right, fine.” She came to sit near his feet and curled her tail around her body. Her cat’s gaze roamed over his stomach, his chest, his shoulders, then finally they dropped to his hands. “I tried to have Helo touch me.”
Gray turned away from the closet. “Come again?” He hadn’t heard her right. Shit, he hoped he hadn’t heard her right. But with Dillon you never knew. The
veana
could be a freak—a label she no doubt wore with pride.
“I thought, what the fuck? You know?” The jaguar gave a little shrug. “Any hands should be able to do it for me.”
Freak flag flying.
Christ.
Wearing only jeans and a frown, Gray dropped onto his haunches and went face-to-face with her cat. “What are you talking about? The bull’s-eye now, D, not this going-around-and-around-the-circle bullshit you’re dishing.”
Her muzzle twitched in irritation. “I’m talking about the effect of your hands on me earlier,” she snarled, but the sound was soft and didn’t contain much power behind it. “You felt it. When you held my muzzle in your hand, you felt that thing run between us like a live wire.”
Gray didn’t say a thing. Ever since he’d met Dillon, which was over a year ago, when she’d yanked his catatonic self from that hospital bed and brought him to the Romans, he’d wanted to explore the live wire that had been
Eau d’equal parts frustration and the need to fuck.
Yeah, he knew who’d brought that in on her coat.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he uttered, pulling himself up to a sitting position.
Dillon sat at the foot of the bed, her gold head and fierce cat eyes trained on him, the dark night her backdrop.“Your security is shit, Impure. I believe I could’ve gotten in here with a blindfold and a collar made of bells.”
Gray dropped back against the pillows. “You think you strolled in here without being detected? Come on, D.” He clucked his tongue. “You got in because I okayed it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You knew I’d come.”
“Eventually. You always come when you need something.”
“Not true.” She moved around the side of the bed, the strength in every feline movement almost hypnotic. “Maybe I just wanted to visit with an old friend.”
“Yeah, that sounds like you,” he said drily. To anyone sane, visiting was about relaxed conversation and a desire to see what the other person had been up to since you last saw them. For Dillon it was strictly about purpose: saving someone’s ass, trading information, finding a way to get whatever it was she wanted in that moment.
Gray wondered how long it would be before she decided to start asking. Or maybe he’d make it begging.
“What happened here?” she asked, her eyes pinned to his. “Why were you passed out when I arrived? Partying too hard?”
“That’s right. I’m a nineteen-year-old frat boy.” He swung his legs off the bed and got up. He needed out of these clothes, into something clean, something that didn’t smell like dried blood from the Impure warrior snack at his temples earlier. “It was nothing, just a little pain in the head.” He knocked his chin her way. “Which is now being replaced with a pain in the ass.”
“You’re speaking metaphorically, right?” she hissed. “Because I don’t think it was your ass I bit back at the Romans.” She followed him to the closet, watched him as he pulled off his shirt.
“Listen, I have somewhere to be, so why don’t you tell me why you’ve escaped your brothers again and come running to me.”
“I didn’t run,” she said indignantly. “Though this neighborhood isn’t the greatest for a lady to be walking around in at night.”
Lady. He snorted. “What do you want, D? Patience is growing thin here.”
“All right, fine.” She came to sit near his feet and curled her tail around her body. Her cat’s gaze roamed over his stomach, his chest, his shoulders, then finally they dropped to his hands. “I tried to have Helo touch me.”
Gray turned away from the closet. “Come again?” He hadn’t heard her right. Shit, he hoped he hadn’t heard her right. But with Dillon you never knew. The
veana
could be a freak—a label she no doubt wore with pride.
“I thought, what the fuck? You know?” The jaguar gave a little shrug. “Any hands should be able to do it for me.”
Freak flag flying.
Christ.
Wearing only jeans and a frown, Gray dropped onto his haunches and went face-to-face with her cat. “What are you talking about? The bull’s-eye now, D, not this going-around-and-around-the-circle bullshit you’re dishing.”
Her muzzle twitched in irritation. “I’m talking about the effect of your hands on me earlier,” she snarled, but the sound was soft and didn’t contain much power behind it. “You felt it. When you held my muzzle in your hand, you felt that thing run between us like a live wire.”
Gray didn’t say a thing. Ever since he’d met Dillon, which was over a year ago, when she’d yanked his catatonic self from that hospital bed and brought him to the Romans, he’d wanted to explore the live wire that had been
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