A growl rumbles up in my chest as her hips rock under the blanket and her grip on her throat tightens. Her hand is far too small for her neck, and I imagine my own wrapping around it fiercely, swallowing up the entire column with my palm andwatching as her eyes go glassy from the pleasure and loss of oxygen to her brain.
The desperate, filthy sounds leaving her mouth grow more frantic, her orgasm finally building.Come on, little hunter. Let go and make a fucking mess for me; the words radiate through my mind, exactly what I would be breathing into her ear if she were beneath me, taking my cock and chasing the peak she needs so fucking badly.
All at once, she releases the pressure on her throat, and her peak slams into her body at the same time as the deep breath she can finally take, releasing a throaty, deep scream of a sound as her hips move frantically, the sheets tangling in her legs as she writhes over and over through the high.
A sympathetic groan sneaks out before I can stop it, the humiliation of watching someone get themselves off washing over me as soon as she's finished. Before I can see her naked, flushed, and sated body as she climbs out of bed, I stand so quickly that the chair behind me falls to the floor, storming off to take a cold shower and trying to wash away the shame and stubborn arousal.
I can't fucking stand to watch her the following day, putting Kyle on Isla duty from his office while I blow off a little steam in the form of a swim around the island. How much trouble could she get into in one day?
A lot.
Too fucking much.
One goddamn fucking day, and she almost got caught by those fucks.
Storming through the compound and almost killing Kyle for not warning me, I settled into my computer, shouting at him over the phone for 30 minutes no matter how many times he explained to me that there was no way to reach me since I was half a mile off the coast. No matter that that's the only place in the whole world that was cold enough to draw all of my focus on the frigid temperature and not the scalding way my blood feels when I think of the little hunter on the other side of the cameras.
Theyhadher. Right there, not a block from their compound, surrounded by armed soldiers, one of which was her fucking cousin and knew exactly how vital she is.
And yet, she managed to get out. Somehow.
And I can't look away from her now, comforting her friend that got her into this mess in the first place.
Rationally, I know it's not Bel's fault, or Caspian's, or even fucking Fritz's. They try to keep her out of it, but she's so stubborn she would have tracked them down no matter what they said to keep her away. In any other circumstance, I might admire her loyalty, her love for her friend, and, by extension, the two demons with her. But as it is, I want to fucking throttle her for being so reckless.
I have no interest in what she says to comfort her friend. The only thing I need to hear is that Fritz, for once, has the good sense to tell Belissendathatthey arenotgoing back to save Caspian. It's a real, honest-to-god tragedy that they got Cas. Nobody deserves the shit they'll put him through. But what did they expect? They flagrantly bounced into the Sanctus Sculitis's territory and thought they could walk right back out. Two out of three escaping is a far better number than it could have been.
And while she's spent the last several days crying and puking and wasting away, she's so lucky that she still has someone. So fucking lucky, and she has no idea. Most of us face them and crawl away with nothing and no one.
Ignoring what must be the tenth call from Fritz, I consider throwing my phone and letting it shatter against the concrete wall. Wouldn't be the first time.
Instead, my glance down shows me another number. One that would never be calling me.
Fixing my spine with steel, I answer the same way I always do, regardless of the caller, determined to remain cool and calm, "Yeah."
"Hi, Eamon," Isla's falsely soft, placating voice travels through the receiver, "How are you?"
"No."
With a tsk, her voice returns to the frigidness I'm used to, "Come on. You have to do something. They got one of your people."
"I warned you guys, Isla. I fucking warned you. It's not my fault none of you have any sense. Leave me out of it."If there is a merciful god, please let her drop this. Let them move on and live peacefully.
But I already know there isn't one, so she presses the matter further, her throat clogging with the tears she refuses to let fall when I might become aware of them.
With all the grit and commanding tone I can muster, I bark into the phone, "I ain't fucking doing it. And if you do anything reckless, I'll drag your ass outta there faster than you can say mercy."
A cruel, harsh laugh makes my blood heat with fury, and she responds with a flippant, "Got it."
This time,my phone doesn't survive the onslaught of rage, shattering against the wall.
She can't be stupid enough to go back there.
She's absolutely going to be stupid enough to go back there.
I storm through the compound until I find another phone, calling Kyle immediately and telling him to gather everyone who can get there by morning and have them ready.
"By morning?" he asks in disbelief. "You expect anyone to make it here within the next 10 hours?"
