He sucked in a deep breath and appeared to hold it. His hips jerked. A moment before he came, Silas let loose a terrifying snarl and clamped his fangs onto the meat of her shoulder.
He bit down hard — not enough to break the skin but certainly enough to bruise — as his release coated her hand and wrist. She carefully angled her palm, trying to catch the worst of the mess and save his jeans, as she whispered soft things into his ear.
Has anyone ever been truly soft with you?
She struggled to imagine he would ever allow it from a sexual partner. He was too wild, too inexperienced with emotion. No doubt any display of true affection, were they ever offered, would have confused and annoyed him.
The fact that he let her do it was extraordinary.
Petra wanted to laugh at herself, at how ridiculous it was to feel the prickle of tears behind her eyelids while she gently cradled a half demon’s cock in her release-soaked hand.
It was just a handjob, but it wasn’t. Not really. In that moment, with his fangs digging into her skin and his big body hunched over hers, she felt closer to him than she had with anyone. Ever.
Silas released her shoulder with a grunt. Nuzzling the throbbing pulse just beneath her jaw, he muttered,“Sweetheart?”
A bubble of laughter escaped her. Gently putting him to rights, she pulled her sticky hand back to her side of the car. “Can’t you be my sweetheart?”
“I’ve never been sweet a day in my life.” He sounded deeply disgruntled, but also sated, which was a good sign. Petra didn’t know too much about ruts, but she suspected that if he’d been tipped into his like he feared, he wouldn’t have sounded so sleepy.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She played with one of his curls, admiring the glossy brown color and the way it sprang back when she released it. Memories of their time in the blanket fort made her stomach flutter. “I think you’re pretty sweet to me. In your own way.”
Silas turned his head to peer at her, assessing her as always. “In a way that makes you happy?”
I’ll make you happy,he’d said.Then you’ll never want to leave me.
Petra’s voice came out hoarse with emotion when she answered, “Yeah, sweetheart. In a way that makes me very happy.”
Chapter Forty-Six
The only thingthat made seeing Rasmus’s smug face within a hundred yards of his mate bearable was the knowledge that she sat in the car smelling like sex and sticky with his come.
Personally, he didn’t see the point of any of this.
Even if he hadn’t been more territorial than normal, he wouldn’t have understood Petra’s reasoning for this song and dance. Silas didn’t understand why Petra didn’t simply keep the stupid journal. After all, it was always good to have blackmail in your pocket — especially if it was on unpredictable bastards like Rasmus Adams. Or if she didn’t want to keep it, then they could damn wellsendit to him. He was feral, but Silas was pretty sure the man had a mailbox.
But Petra insisted on being certain he received it, and when she wanted something, she got it.
So even though it went against every instinct he possessed, Silas met the were in the parking lot of Maple’s Diner. The journal was tucked into a brown paper bag, tightly sealed with a piece of tape. Petra treated the thing like contraband, which he supposed it was, in a sense.
His mate had spent most of the last day and a half participating in a mostly one-sided debate over whether theyshould hand it over to Rasmus or the authorities. He really didn’t care which she chose, as both options were equally bland, but he did offer his opinion that giving it to Rasmus might earn them a favor in the future. It wasn’t as good as blackmail, but it was something.
Petra didn’t love that suggestion, but she didn’t say it was a bad idea, either. While he suspected most of her reasoning for deciding to hand it over was sentimental — seeing as they were something approachingfriends,apparently — he wanted to believe she saw his point, too. His witch had a soft heart, but she could be ruthless. It was one of the many things he loved about her.
Rasmus climbed out of his sleek silver car and rested a hand on the roof, his suspicious, mismatched eyes fixed on Silas. He was dressed in dark slacks and a pale blue button down, and his tattoos peeked out from above the collar and from where he’d rolled up the sleeves. His hair, messy on top and beginning to gray on the sides, looked like he’d been running his fingers through it.
Before Rasmus could take a step in Silas’s direction, he snapped, “Stay there.”
“Why?”
“Because my mate’s in the car, asshole.”
And since the man apparently had a death wish, his gaze slid over Silas’s shoulder to peer at the tinted windshield. Even though Silas knew he could only see the vague shape of Petra, he stepped into Rasmus’s eyeline anyway, his shadows rippling across his body in a blatant threat.
“Eyes off if you wanna keep them.”
Rasmus made a sucking sound with his teeth. It puckered his scarred lips in a funny way.
The war and a hard life had done a number on him. Silas imagined that at some point Rasmus had been blown up andput together just a little bit wrong, but he’d heard people still thought the man was handsome. He didn’t get it, but his tastes ran blonde, buxom, and able to burn his nuts off when the mood struck, so he wasn’t the best judge.
