I kissed him back, but my brain was noisy, and tonight, he knew it.
He bit my lips. “This... between us. It cannot always be about what you think I need.”
“You have no idea what I’m fucking thinking.”
“No?” Viktor set his palm to my chest and shoved. “So you are not thinking that you want something you can’t have? So that means you cannot have anything?”
“Sure you’re not tripping over that language barrier there, Vik?”
His hands twitched, like he wanted to shove me again.
He walked out instead, leaving me alone in his bedroom. I sent a longing gaze to his unmade bed, memories of the last time we’d been in it so vivid I felt his teeth at my neck, his dick heavy in my hand—his dick hot againstmine. Vik liked grinding. He could do it for hours. Made me think about how he’d fuck me. If he’d edge me to oblivion like he had last night or go hard.
I was good with either, and that ache bloomed inside me again. That fucking craving I’d never felt with anyone else.
The front door opened.
I snapped out of my sex-themed daze and darted out of the room in time to see Viktor stepping outside.
His shirt was back on. Shoes on his feet. And that fucker was fast.
He jogged to the car.
I sprinted after him, heart in my throat. If he got behind the wheel and gunned it, I had no chance of catching up unless he drove somewhere really fucking obvious.
Like the drug strip at the beach.
Viktor reached the car. He opened the driver door. I reached him in time to slam that bastard shut again, and he whirled around, instinct balling his fists, muscles bunched to strike—tokill.
But he moved aside, gesturing to the door. “Fine. Get it yourself.”
“Get what?”
“Is in the cupholder. The paper bag.”
I trusted Viktor. But I was wound up enough that I didn’t believe it. I invaded his personal space, gripping his wrist, and opened the car door with my other hand.
Sure enough, the cupholder held a small paper bag I hadn’t noticed on the way home. “If that’s smack, I’ll smackyou.”
“You can try. But it is not drugs. It is for you.”
I snagged the bag—definitely not powder—and straightened to face him.
Frustration and amusement warred for dominance in his pretty fucking face and I kissed him—I had to, cos this night was apparently weird like that.
Full moon, baby.
I shut Rubi out of my head and peeked in the bag. Coiled dark leather greeted me, and a glitter of colour I’d recognise anywhere.
Amethyst.
“Is for your birthday.” Viktor sidled closer and took the bracelet out of the bag. “That stone you lug around is importantto you, no? I thought you might like to keep a piece of it closer to you.”
“A piece of it?”
“You kicked your bag a while ago. A fragment broke away.”
“Fuck.” I couldn’t hide my wince. “I’ve done that so many times, I’m surprised there’s any of it left. And my birthday was ages ago.”
