Insatiable Craving: 2 (Insatiable Nights) (6 page)

Aria didn’t seem the least bit disturbed. She didn’t even have the decency to look up from her work. “Say ten Hail Marys and move along.”

“You would make a horrible priest.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Wow. Right in the balls. What is it this time, Raz? You accidentally make eye contact with the hot redhead that tends bar?”

“Aria—”

“’Cause I already asked her and she swings for the other team, so—”

“No, that’s not… Wait.” Razor’s eyes narrowed. “You asked Lisa if she wanted me to toss her a fuck?”

“That’s not exactly how I’d word it, but yes.”

“Aria, just how many women have you propositioned on my behalf?”

Though she still didn’t look up, he could clearly see a hint of crimson staining her alabaster cheeks. “Well, when you say it like that…”

“Aria!”

“What? Can’t a girl ask around on behalf of her tragically abstinent friend? You’re wound tight as a fucking drum. I just thought getting laid would, you know, help you unwind.”

A low, steady burn began to overpower the twisted knot of guilt in his belly. “So let me get this straight,” he said slowly, his tone dangerous. He knew Aria heard the warning, for she shrank into the sofa. “You’ve been whoring me out to any female I come in contact with?”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“Really? What’s it like, then?”

“Just the girls I know you like.”

“So you’re now determining who I do and do not want to bone?” A beat ticked in Razor’s jaw, his fingers furling and unfurling. Goddamn, the girl was a menace. How many people had she harassed over the years, trying to get him to
unwind
? Throwing Ginny at his crotch was bad enough, but there were any number of Electric Panther staffers of the female persuasion who had taken to avoiding him like the fucking plague.

“Do you have any idea how…
Shit,
Aria, that’s fucking unacceptable. I—” He broke off when he saw the amulet around her neck glowing green and rolled his eyes. One day he would tear the damn thing from her neck and grind it into little golden shards.

“How dare you raise your voice to my Arianna!” Draken bellowed, the vibrations from his outage evidently enough to make the amulet shake. “When I know form again, mortal, I will snap your back in half and make a bracelet of your innards!”

Razor snarled, every inch trembling, tufts of fur sprouting along his arms and chest, his control dancing so precariously near the edge he couldn’t see it anymore. A shiver of pure fear raced up his spine, along with the sort of commanding authority that only came with full submission to his inner animal. It had been so long since he’d let it go, and though he knew he should be terrified that it took next to no provocation to push him near that edge, the rest of him was too drunk on sensation to care. The wolf howled and slashed at his chest, making his bones rattle and his temples pound, shoving every inch of his body close to an explosion.

He needed to warn her before the beast broke free—before the tenuous strains of his control snapped entirely.

“Shut that asshole up,” he said slowly, “or I’ll do it for you. I’m serious.”

He must have looked downright terrifying, for Aria didn’t argue. Instead, she closed her hand around the amulet and brought it to her mouth. “Quiet, Draken.”

The god fell silent—the sort of heavy silent that settled over the corners of the room and choked the air.

“Now,” Razor said slowly, doing his best to ignore how hard he shook. “Let’s get one thing straight. You are never to interfere with my personal life again. Understood?”

Aria looked stricken, her eyes wide, her skin pale, her lower lip trembling. If he weren’t so angry he’d almost feel sorry for her. “Honestly, Raz, it’s not what it sounds like. I didn’t—”

He held up a hand and she promptly shut up. “I don’t care what it sounds like. It stops.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She pursed her lips and sighed. “Now, you need to do something for me.”

“What?” he barked.

“Calm the fuck down.” Aria looked him up and down. “You are about three seconds from wolfing out on me, and unless I’m wrong, that is one trip down memory lane you don’t want.”

It took hearing the words in Aria’s voice for Razor to blink. He broke then and stumbled back, his wide eyes falling on his fur-covered arms. Heat pulsed through his body, heightened by sex and teased with outrage. He clenched his hands into fists. “Oh shit,” he murmured, a tingling shard of anxiety climbing up his throat. “Oh shit. Aria?”

She visibly relaxed, blowing out a cool breath. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, raising her hand. “I’m your Yoda.”

A familiar blue hue radiated from the center of her palm, then spread outward in a brilliant burst of light. And just like that, a cool calm settled over his body, coaxing the animal away from the edge of madness.

It had been a long damn while since Aria had needed to do that, and the knowledge she had set his teeth on edge.

Finally, as waves of calm washed coolly over him, Razor’s shoulders slumped and a long sigh tore through his chest. “Thanks,” he said, feeling more like himself, even if the strands of his anger refused to snap entirely. “I needed that.”

Aria offered a single nod, then lowered her hand again to her amulet. She clutched it as though it were a security blanket. “I’ll say. What the hell happened?”

“Ginny.”

Her eyebrows shot skyward. “The girl from last night?”

“Yeah.”

“What about her?”

“I… She…” Razor’s jaw hardened and he swept a hand over his face. “She showed up.”

“When?”

“Just now. Maybe a half hour ago.”

Aria blinked dumbly. “Now that’s interesting.”

“We fucked against the wall.”

“That’s even more interesting.” She appraised him with an insane, almost proud look, then made a face and shook her head. “And I was wrong.”

“About many things.”

“Getting laid makes you even more uptight. You’re eight different kinds of screwed up, you know?” She laughed and sat back against the sofa. “So Little Miss Priss came back for a piece of Razor pie.”

“Don’t call her that.” He had no idea why, but the smallest hint of a slight against Ginny had his defenses rearing. It made no sense, and he had enough wits about himself to know it. Yet from how hot and wild she’d been, there was nothing about her he’d call prissy. The fact she’d scurried off without more than a handful of nonsensical words didn’t alter that opinion, because any asshole could tell she’d been shaken. And who could blame her? He was shaken too.

Shaken, wired, angry and…disappointed. Both in his behavior and that he hadn’t gotten more from her before she left.

“You took her home last night,” Razor said, snapping back to himself. “Where did she live?”

Aria snickered and shook her head. “Oh boy, this did not go as I thought it would.”

“How the fuck did you think it would?”

“You get laid. Some groupie girl gets laid. Everyone goes home happy.”

“She’s not a groupie!”

“She’s here every night and moons over you like a love-struck teenager! What else would you call that?”

He huffed. “How many times has she screamed my name or thrown panties at my face? She comes, she watches, she leaves.”

“Aha!” Aria pointed at him, smiling victoriously. “So you have been paying attention!”

“I never said I wasn’t! I said I was… Damn it, this is not…” He broke away, fixing his gaze on a point on the wall at his right. “She ran outta here before we could…before I could even figure out how the fuck it happened.”

“If you need to know how it happened, Raz, I’m sure I can find some sex-ed books around here somewhere.”

Though it wasn’t quite as menacing as before, the inhuman growl that tore through his throat earned her silence. Razor grunted and turned back to her, his body tensing again. “Goddammit, Aria, I’m serious! Whatever she came here for, it wasn’t getting screwed. She sure as fuck didn’t expect to see me, and she didn’t… But something came over her. Over us both. And then it just happened.”

Aria’s features softened at that, the humor in her eyes receding. “I think it’d just been a long time for you,” she said.

“And for her? Do you not care about her?”

“Sure I do…as much as I can the random stranger who passes out in the bathroom. But sorry, I care about you a heck of a lot more.” She crossed her arms. “You want her address so you two can go talk it out?”

Razor spread his arms. “I came about five seconds from wolfing out on you. What makes you think I’m the right company for people right now?”

“Well, you just asked for her address for one.”

“You read way too much into that.”

Aria snickered and arched an eyebrow. “Okay. How about the fact that my throat is still attached to my body.”

“You have that hocus-pocus witchy thing you can do.”

She groaned, her face falling into her waiting hands. “Jesus H. At some time you’re really going to have to start trusting yourself. You ever think the reason your wolf likes to come out and play when you’re all pissy is because that’s how you experience anger? You’re never going to be separated from that side of you, Razor. No witch in the universe could undo what happened to you. At some point you gotta just forgive yourself and move the fuck on.”

“Forgive myself.”

“Yes.”

“For killing—”

“For not dying that night. God, if I saw everything as black and white as you do, I think I’d be half outta my mind.”

He rumbled a small laugh. “Instead of all the way?”

“Bite me.”

“No, don’t think so. You don’t need my ability on top of yours.” Razor inhaled deeply and shot a glance at the clock. “I probably don’t have time to head over there before we open…which is okay, because I’m still not sure that’s a good idea.”

Aria made a noncommittal sound that, in her language, translated to “you know damn well it’s a good idea if it’s bothering you this much, but because you’re a fucking pussy you’re gonna try and get me to talk you out of it. And to that, I say tough shit.”

It was a surprisingly specific noncommittal noise, but he didn’t once doubt what she really meant.

Razor continued, “If I still want to see her after we close…”

“Showing up at four in the morning is definitely the best way to not freak out the already freaked out.”

“I was thinking tomorrow,” he said. “But if you think she’ll be more receptive at four in the morning, I’ll take your word for it. You do speak female.”

Aria poked out her tongue at him. “No one speaks my kind of female.”

He had to agree with her there, but he decided not to tell her he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Not while she held Ginny’s address, anyway. He didn’t trust himself with that information and he sure as hell didn’t trust Aria to hand it over if she got into a funk. The fact she hadn’t shackled silver chains around his hands and throat after he nearly lost control earlier was more than he would have allowed himself if he sat in her place.

But on some level he knew she was right. The only times Razor felt himself teetering toward a loss of control involved the less pleasant emotions like anger, guilt or grief. And finding out Aria had essentially donned a pimp hat when it came to his previously nonexistent sex life had a way of pissing him off.

He had no idea what had happened with Ginny—what about her had made him waver so close to the edge of oblivion. How he could be so calm and collected one second and a rabid horndog the next was beyond him. The past few years had been spent cultivating an ironclad grip on his body. One simple whisper from Ginny had undone all of that in a blink.

He didn’t like it.

Especially when he wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t do it again.

The apartment looked the same when she returned.

Ginny didn’t know how long she stood in the doorway. A few seconds, maybe, though it felt like hours. Still, everything looked the same. She wasn’t surprised. Even after she’d stumbled away from Travis’ bed, everything had looked the same, and in many ways, that was what made things so damn difficult.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

What in the world had gotten into her?

Ginny released a deep breath and tossed her keys toward the coffee table, but her hand was shaking so hard they missed by a mile and clamored noisily to the floor. She forced herself to edge past the doorframe and managed to make it to the sofa.

Never in her life had she done anything like what had happened at Electric Panther. Never. She’d mostly missed that whole phase in college—mostly, and what she hadn’t missed she wished she had. However, for the bulk of her college experience, she’d skipped the full sorority girl shebang. She hadn’t done much beyond go to class, study for tests, write up papers and do her best not to gain the freshman fifteen. Sure, she’d dated, but most of the time only when pressured by girlfriends or her mother, who seemed convinced Ginny would die an old maid just because she hadn’t had anything she would call a boyfriend.