SUIT and FANGS (18 page)

Luka hesitated a split second before answering. “Yes.”

I stepped back, blood turning cold. “Don’t lie, Luka. Don’t – just don’t lie, not now.” Jaw hard, I asked again, tightly this time, “Where are you going?”

“To the Morettis.”

Sucker-punched,
and it was the second time for the day.

My third phase for rehabilitation commenced the next night, with Luka taking me to dinner in a human establishment. The silence between us was strained at best. We haven’t yet spoken since he left me for Emilia Moretti.

When the image of the princess popped in my head, my foot slipped as I accidentally-or-unconsciously kicked Luka from behind, who was speaking with the head of my protection team from the Brethren.

Luka’s head whipped back in surprise. “Caylie?”

I smiled sweetly. “An accident.”

His eyes narrowed, telling me silently that he so didn’t think so.

I upped the sweetness of my smile by a notch, silently answering that I didn’t give a fuck.

Luka turned his back on me again, and I took my time studying his profile. He was
still
the most beautiful creature alive in my eyes. His ice blond hair always looked soft and shiny even though I knew for a fact that Luka didn’t even comb his regularly. Again he was wearing a suit and tie, and he carried it off like no nineteen-year-old had a right to. Clothes may make a man, but not for Caros and especially
not
for someone as impeccably put together as Luka.

“Always watch the perimeter,” I heard Luka murmur as he arranged his cuff links.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Check for red rims around the eyes,” Luka reminded them. “I know you’ve all trained to detect vampire threats but as we get better, our enemies may have gotten better and evolved, too, so we must never be complacent.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the Brethren soldiers affirmed in unison. The respect in their voice was unmistakable. Remarkable, too, since most of them were years older than Luka.

Luka flashed them a brief but sincere smile. “Thank you for your loyalty and hard work.”

They saluted before disappearing into the night.

And then Luka turned around, so suddenly he caught me staring.

Flustered, I quickly pulled my gaze away and fumbled for my phone in my purse. “There’s no reception here,” I muttered. It was the first thing that occurred to me to say, anything to keep Luka from remarking at the fact that I had been looking at him like a lovesick puppy. “You deliberately chose a restaurant with bad reception, didn’t you?”

Luka didn’t even have the grace to be embarrassed. “Naturally. There are many human traits that are impressive, but tweeting and posting selfies---” Luka’s upper lip curled at the word. “---isn’t one of them.”

I had to laugh, and somehow that chipped away the discomfort between us and I was smiling more naturally when I took the arm he offered, curling mine around his. We entered the restaurant slowly, our pace deliberately mimicking the pace of humans. Being around humans was most times amusing, but it was always tiring because we could never ever let our guards down. The smallest slip could end peace for our race, and this was a fact hammered into us over and over since we were kids.

When I took off my coat to hand it to Luka, I heard him inhale sharply from behind. I hid a smile, knowing very well how he was feeling now. The gown I wore tonight was my most risqué, something I patterned after the gown Gwyneth Paltrow famously wore to the premier for the third Iron Man movie. It was beautiful front and back, a delicate concoction of gold silk and lace, but the sides were made completely of sheer translucent fabric, making it necessary
not
to wear any underwear.

“You little minx,” Luka whispered when I turned around.

His violet eyes were wild and bright with desire, so blinding that I feared humans would still be mesmerized even with his glasses on.

I immediately went to him and in the pretext of kissing him on the cheek, continental style, I whispered, “Your eyes, Luka. They’re too bright.”

His hands suddenly spanned my hips, and a small gasp escaped me. “It’s your fault,” he hissed under his breath. As he returned my kiss, but his lips landing dangerously close to the corner of my lips this time, he gritted out, “Dressing like that in a fucking public place---what the hell are you thinking?”

That I didn’t want to share him?
It had been the uppermost thought in my mind when I chose my outfit. So I was fucking selfish, wanting Luka to be all mine even if he was in love with someone else. So be it. He was just as selfish, with the way he continuously messed me up, looking at me like he wanted my body like he had never wanted anything in his life but all the while courting the Lyccan princess.

“I want to drive you mad,” I said finally.

“Congratulations,” Luka snarled quietly. “You already had.”

I shivered at how desire thickened his words, thrilling to the way he didn’t bother to hide how much he wanted me.

And then he was whirling me around, cupping my elbow as he led me past gawking patrons to the cloak room. My eyes widened. “Luka---”

The look he sent me was feral, and I shut up even as my heartbeat escalated. When we reached the end of the hall, I realized where he was taking me and I looked at him in disbelief. “Luka---”

“Get in or I’ll carry you in,” Luka growled as he opened the door to the powder room.

I stepped in.

The door slammed shut.

And then he was on me, his lips on mine, and whatever reservations I had instantly burnt to ashes as Luka’s passion sparked mine.

I moaned when Luka lifted me up in a rough move, and I twisted my legs around him as he pushed me against the wall. “Luka,” I gasped as his lips trailed down my neck, sucking on the pulse.

“Luka, no. The Brethren would know.” It was one thing to bite me on my breast but it was another thing entirely to drink from my pulse.

Luka cursed, but he reluctantly let go of my pulse, lips trailing down. “Never wear this gown again.” And then he tore it into halves.

I shrieked in surprise. “Luka---mmph!” He was kissing me again, tongue snaking in and possessing me, leaving me incapable of thinking, much less speaking.

Luka’s hands shaped my breasts as we kissed, squeezing them so tightly the pleasure was agonizing. And when he started playing with my nipples, twisting them hard and pulling them as if wanting them to be at their longest, I moaned, loudly, once again uncaring of who would hear me.

“Quiet.” His voice was sharp, but I could also sense the satisfaction in his voice. He loved the fact that he could make me moan.

And so I moaned, louder, and Luka groaned, taking my lips for another kiss to shut up but at the same time grinding his rock hard erection against my bare folds.

My eyes dilated at the contact. “Luka,” I gasped against his lips, my arms tightening around his back while I tried to squeeze him harder between my legs.

“Shit. Don’t…” He cursed in our language as I rubbed myself wildly against him, trying to find a way to get the pleasure I knew only Luka could bring me.

His fingers clamped around my ass. “Stop moving,” he commanded.

I went still, the authority in his voice just turning me on even more.

He gripped my hair. “This body will only and always be mine, Caylie. Do you understand?”

“
Yes.
”

Luka hitched me higher on his hips just before his hand snaked in between us and rubbed my clit. A few flicks did it, and I was moaning against Luka’s lips as I came. Luka suddenly caught my hand and brought it down, and before I knew it I was stroking his long, hard dick.

Shit.

I was aroused once more, and when Luka’s body jerked as he started to come, I came with him, his guttural growls of release mingling with my whimpers.

This time I let Luka clean me as he laid me down half sitting on the sink, my back against the wall, my legs parted. I saw our reflections on the mirror and blushed, unable to believe I had done something so indescribably…wild with Luka.

Was this what he had with Emilia Moretti? Or was it better?

Just the thought alone ruined everything, and Luka sensed it, straightening immediately as he sought my gaze. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

His jaw clenched. “Is it because the human press is here and their reports will soon be about your engagement to me as well?”

It took me more than a second to understand what Luka was implying. “Luka! Why do you keep thinking that? I never said---” My voice trailed off when I realized that I had once made him feel like that.

Dog lover.

“I was angry,” I choked out. “I hated you then and I…I can’t say that a part of me doesn’t hate you.” I looked at him searchingly, pleadingly. “But I didn’t mean it and I don’t…I think the world of you, Luka. That was why the way you threw me away hurt – why it still hurts.”

But if I thought I could reach out to him that way, if I thought my words were enough to crack the barrier that still stood between us, preventing me to see the truth in his actions – I thought wrong.

Luka’s expression closed off, his beautiful face made cruelly cold by his withdrawal. “I won’t ever talk about it, Caylie. If you can’t accept that then I have to leave you again.”

My head bowed.
Emilia Moretti.
Surely it had to do something with her?

“But did you regret it?” I whispered, staring at the intricate patterns on the marbled counter of the sink.

Luka answered harshly, “I shouldn’t…but yes. I did. I do. Every fucking night that I couldn’t see you, every fucking time I heard about you dating another boy, I regretted it.”

The tears fell.

Oh God of Caros, I was so pathetic.

Why did those words mean so much when it still didn’t erase the fact that Luka Georgiades wasn’t mine?

~~~

Luka was smirking.

I could feel it even without looking at him and I hated him for it even though I also found it sexy as hell. The perfect well-mannered Luka Georgiades
smirking
? Oh sweet Caro heaven, of course that was sexy.

“Are the rumors about your engagement true?”

Luka answered smilingly, “It is if you’re about to congratulate us. If not…” He nodded to his own private team of Brethren guards. “You know what to do, guys.”

The crowd laughed, and I marveled at the ease with which Luka handled them.

The press had cornered us the moment we left the restaurant, Luka unkempt in his suit, his shirt left to hang loose past his pants to cover the, err, evidence of what he had done. On the other hand, I was completely naked inside my coat, and I uneasily wondered how many in this crowd had figured that out, with the way my coat was zipped and buttoned close like a straitjacket in fur.

“Enough questions now,” Luka said firmly.

I caught Luka gazing at me with a frown, and I frowned back. What now?

As Luka guided me down the steps, an insistent male reporter behind us shouted, “What about Devyn Hall, Caylie? Is he still the best kisser you ever dated?”

Luka’s grip around my waist tightened.

Being fond of where my head currently was, I answered over my shoulder, “You tell me when you’ve kissed him.”

The crowd laughed, we got in the limo, and Luka pulled me on his lap insistently, kissing me punishingly. “You could have said
no
,” he growled.

“And make your head swell even more?” I shot back even as I arched my neck, begging and demanding for his lips on my pulse.