Slip of Fate (Werelock Evolution Book 1) (17 page)

“What is your problem? So I saw you naked. Is that any reason to react like this? To break your hand punching me?”

“
Yes!
”
I shrieked, the throbbing pain in my hand further fueling my ire. I wriggled beneath him and struggled against his iron grip on my wrists. “Get off me!”

“No. Not until you explain this irrational aversion to people bathing you.”

I laughed shrilly and without humor. “You have no feelings. Of course you wouldn’t understand.”

“Feelings?” he scoffed. “You were covered in blood, Milena. Bathing you was the medically appropriate, properly hygienic measure to take. Am I supposed to apologize for taking into account your health and safety above your petty moral concerns and your vanity?”

I made my guppy face before I could catch myself. I hastily shut my jaw again, then cursed internally for doing so as I saw his lips twitch with amusement at the knowledge that I cared what he thought of the faces I made.

“Tell me,” he said, his dark eyes warming, “did I ruin some schoolgirl fantasy you’ve been clinging to about how things would play out the first time a man laid eyes on you in the buff?”

“Fuck you!” I spat, blushing furiously at his speculation, which hit a little too close to the truth—at least in part.

He leaned in until his lips grazed the shell of my ear. “Would you like to know how your first time was for me?”

I shook my head, which unintentionally only served to press his lips into more intimate contact with my earlobe.

“Well, it so happens that in between thoughts of being livid with Kai and Jacinda,” he proceeded conversationally despite my denial of any interest, “frustrated by your behavior, and overall worried out of my damn mind, I
did
notice how nice your skin smells when it’s wet.”

He paused to inhale against my ear and neck, eliciting an annoyingly lovely tingling sensation clear to my scalp. I tried to ignore it and refocus on the pain emanating from my broken knuckles.

“Also, how well-formed your breasts are,” he relayed softly as his nose traced my temple, “and how nicely shaped I find your legs.”

My breath hitched. Surely he had to be joking?
Was that sarcasm?
I prepared myself for the insult to come. I knew he had to be working up to one—most likely a crack about my boyish lack of curves.

“Then when Marissa ran a washcloth between your thighs, you made this tempting little moaning sound in your throat.” He growled in remembrance against my neck. “At which point I began to wonder how you might taste and feel on my tongue if I were to lick you clean instead.”

I swallowed audibly as he started kissing his way down the column of my throat. It sounded more like a gulp.
Please let him have an insult queued up.

“Such thoughts spurred the selfish beast in me to fantasize about rousing you from your much-needed, healing slumber in order to discover all the other noises I might draw from you.” He paused as his lips explored along my clavicle. “Both with my mouth … and my uncomfortably engorged cock, as I envisioned licking, sucking, and
fucking
you thoroughly, again …
and
again,
to our mutual gratification.”

Sweet Jesus!
I was burning hot from head to toe, like I was running a dangerous fever. I knew my face was red, and that I needed to take a breath soon before he reminded me. But another part of me hoped I’d just pass out from overheating or lack of oxygen and not have to engage with him anymore like this. I was no match for him when he started in with the sexual banter.

“But …” he lamented, “instead, I was a gentleman. And here you punched me in the face anyway.”

With a final kiss to my collarbone, he drew back up onto his knees. “How’s the hand feeling?” I stared blankly up at him. “Your hand, Milena? How is it?”

Oh, I don’t know … melted into the mattress, perhaps? Like the rest of me.

I hadn’t even noticed he’d released my wrists at some point. My arms were still resting lamely above my head where he’d last put them. When I didn’t respond, he retrieved my right hand with the injured knuckles and brought it up close to his face for inspection.

And then he licked it.

Then he did it again.
And again.
He was being decidedly thorough about it—and disturbingly erotic.
I had to get my wits about me!

“But in my dream, you said … you said you’d rather …” I cleared my throat,
“do it …
with virtually any other female on the planet than me,” I reminded him.

His brows rose in interest, and I felt his lips smile against my knuckles before kissing them. “Mm … you’re right. I did say that, didn’t I? That was rather rude of me, wasn’t it?”

I shrugged noncommittally.

“It must have hurt your feelings,” he pressed quietly, pausing in his attentions to my knuckles to regard me.

I shook my head.

He smirked.
“Liar,”
he mouthed to my ever-increasing mortification. “Well, I’ve changed my mind,” he imparted before lifting my hand back to his mouth.

Butterflies pole-vaulted in my belly.

“I want,” I squeaked, “… to stay … with Alcaeus,” I said, my voice quavering. It didn’t help that my stomach was in knots and my hand was now visibly trembling in his grasp.

“Uh-uh,” he refused with a minute movement of his head, as his tongue weaved in and out between my digits, “not gonna happen, baby.”

I was momentarily thrown off course by his term of endearment. That and the fact his tongue was rapidly making more than just my fingers wet.

“But I can’t … I don’t want …” I faltered distractedly in my objection. “I heard you talking … and Alcaeus said it was the law … of your people … and I could stay with him as … as an elder.”

He shook his head again as he studiously licked over the back of my hand. It felt healed already, leading me to suspect he was only licking it now to fluster me.

“But the—the law …” I protested, trailing off as I forgot the point I’d planned to make next.
Goddamn him and his bad boy Casanova bullshit that got me all rattled and stupid.
I refused to be a cliché!

“Milena, I don’t give a fuck about laws. I’ll do whatever I want where you’re concerned. And there’s
no one,”
he emphasized, “including Alcaeus, who possesses the ability to stop me.”

I swallowed hard, hoping it would push down the fear and alarm arising in me. “That’s not very honorable.”

“Don’t care what it is,” he said, his fingers gently massaging the delicate bones in my hand and fingers, confirming his tongue’s handiwork. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again after that stunt you pulled with Jacinda.”

I averted my gaze as guilt flooded me. I felt awful about Jacinda. But it didn’t mean I was going to let him continue to railroad me. “Lucia
said
I have a choice. And I … I don’t want to stay with you.”

“So I remember you telling me that.”

Despite his show of nonchalance, I swore I could feel his wrathful energy brewing, rapidly approaching a boiling point.

“I suppose I’ll just have to entice you, eh?” he proposed with obvious sarcasm. “I seem to recall possessing a bargaining chip of some sort,” he muttered to himself, searching the high ceiling above as he pretended to comb his memory. “Let’s see … what was it? Ah, yes, the life of your brother.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“Don’t believe what, princess?”

“I don’t
trust
you,” I amended. “How do I know Raul’s even alive?” I challenged as assertively as my visible shivering would allow. I was so tired of him belittling me. “I want to see him for myself.”

“Raul’s at my home in Salvador. I might arrange a video conference,
if,”
he stipulated with exaggerated condescension, “you can be a good little girl and not maim yourself for a full forty-eight hours.”

“I am not a little girl, and I am not a princess,” I seethed. “I’m a person! A person who doesn’t appreciate degrading pet names.”

His brow quirked. “I see. So that’s a no to princess and little girl? But I can still call you baby?”

“What?”

“You didn’t object when I called you baby, before. In fact, your heart rate sped up,” he reported with a lazy smile. “I’m certain you liked it whenever I called you baby during your recovery.”

“Nuh-uh!” I objected, appalled. “Did not!”

He laughed, nodding emphatically and raising my knuckles to his lips for a final kiss before depositing my healed hand on the bed. “You are a disgraceful liar,
baby
.
”

“
You
are a controlling, overbearing, condescending asshole!”

All trace of teasing and humor left his features, and he lowered himself onto me, deftly wedging his knee between my legs and sinking his weight into me where it would do the most good. I bit my lip as I felt the traitorous mass of nerve endings there jump and flutter in anticipation.

“You made me worry.” It was an indictment.

And as ludicrous as it was, I somehow knew the wounded, forlorn look in his black eyes would haunt me if I didn’t make amends. It made no sense
.

It made even less sense when my eyes started watering and I found myself uttering the words to say I was sorry, though rationally I knew I owed him no such apology. Stranger still, I felt as if I truly meant it.

His features softened and his lips curved into a hint of a sad smile. “Don’t do it again, okay? Don’t ever hurt yourself. Promise me, Milena?”

I shook my head, crying harder. I didn’t know if I could promise such a thing, and I’d never been a good liar.

He sighed, his forehead lowering to touch mine. “I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me. But I need you to give me a chance. Do you understand?”

“Uh-uh.” I sniffled. God, I hadn’t the foggiest idea what he meant. And I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it was he wanted from me anyhow. I wasn’t sure he knew himself. “What sort of chance?”

“The chance to know you, and to provide what you need.”

My brain drew a giant blank. It was quite possibly the most confounding thing he’d said to me yet.

“I know I’ve hurt you. And I’ve scared you.” His hands cradled my face as his thumbs wiped the dampness from my cheeks. “But if you let me try, I think … I think I could make you feel safe with me. I think I could earn your trust.”

“But you’re holding me hostage,” I pointed out, my tone incredulous, “and you’re threatening me with the life of my own brother if I don’t comply with your demands!”

He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “You make it sound so sordid, baby.”

It was sordid!

“Can I help it if I’m used to getting my way all the time?” he reasoned outlandishly. “Is it my fault I’ve been so efficient at getting people to do whatever I’ve wanted throughout my lifetime?”

I couldn’t begin to tackle that one without a higher degree in abnormal psychology.

“Milena, keep in mind I have the power to compel you to do anything I want. I don’t have to ask for your cooperation, much less go to the trouble of holding Raul’s life over your head in order to extort it.”

Wow.
Was that meant to reassure me somehow?

“It would be far easier to erase Raul from your memory,” he said with an insouciant shrug. “I could simply vanquish every feeling you’ve ever held in your heart for him throughout your lifetime, and command you to do as I please.”

I stopped breathing. Panic engulfed me and an icy chill seized my heart. I was at the mercy of a supernatural sociopath.

His features contorted into an indignant scowl as he observed my reaction. “Milena, I said
could,”
he mollified, angling my chin to allow his black eyes to capture and hold my watery blue ones. “I was trying to explain—
fuck
… I’m not entirely soulless.” He appeared genuinely offended that I should think so little of him.

Seriously?

“My point was simply that there are far easier, faster methods at my disposal for gaining what I want.”

I clenched my jaw and chose to nod in stoic resignation rather than argue the point that I’d sooner let my brain implode fighting his mind invasion before I’d allow him to vanquish Raul’s memory from my heart.

“But I don’t want it to be like that with you,” he continued, his eyes seeking some kind of understanding as they assessed me. “I want you
willing.
I want you … happy,” he admitted after a strained pause where he seemed embarrassed or confused himself by this revelation.

My eyes rolled in exasperation before I could stop them, regardless of the evident sincerity behind his declaration.

“How can you claim such a thing? When you’ve taken away my choice?”

He had the grace to chuckle in recognition of this very obvious contradiction. “It’s complicated. Just because I
want
to do the honorable thing by you, doesn’t mean I’m entirely willing or capable of it as yet.”

I willed myself not to pull a disgusted face.

“This is new for me. And I’m trying. But I need you to be a little patient,” he said, as if he weren’t asking me for much. “I’m used to women clamoring to please me,” he expounded without so much as a shred of modesty. “Believe it or not, most females tend to find me rather charming and will eagerly give me anything and everything I want before I even ask.”

I didn’t even attempt to suppress my next exaggerated eye-roll at his arrogance and self-delusion. The man had zero shame.

“Uh …
yeah—
because I’m pretty sure they’re afraid you’re going to
kill
them … or
Cujo
-attack them … or blow their brains up … err …
whatever”—
I exhaled, shaking my head in revulsion—“if they don’t do what you want!”

His eyes widened at my reprehension, and then he erupted into a fit of unexpectedly boisterous mirth that shook the whole bed as he rolled off of me onto his back.

“Possibly!” he conceded with a beaming, irritatingly mesmerizing grin. “Possibly you’re onto something with that theory, princess.”