“You see what you do to me, little witch?” His hips thrust forward. His considerable length pressed into my backside.
His free hand slid over the thin, silk fabric of my dress, finding the slit up the side. My breathing became erratic the farther up his hand traveled. If he went any higher, he would feel just how turned on I was.
As if reading my mind, Grey’s finger slipped under my thong, and I jolted at the sudden contact.
“Fuck, Lyra,” he growled.
Laughter erupted, and I lunged forward. There was still a house full of people right down the hall. We’d been lucky it was Mrs. Abbot who caught us, and I didn’t think she’d mention what she’d witnessed. She wasn’t one to gossip. But all it’d take was one slip of the tongue for Mr. Whitethorn to realize who took the book.
Grey brought his glistening finger to his mouth and sucked my desire clean from it. “You taste even better than I imagined.”
The heady feeling had the room swaying.
Grey swiped the lighter from my hand and held it over the book, careful not to catch it on fire. In one quick movement, he snatched it from the desk. A smile tugged at his lips, and something unfamiliar flashed in his eyes.
I needed to leave right now because if I stayed here any longer, I might do something extremely reckless.
CHAPTER 17
GREY
Lyra’s intoxicating scent lingered in the study, and the taste of coffee and chocolate remained on my tongue. I’d been so sure she’d set me up, but she surprised me by coming back and then again when she shoved her tongue down my throat.
I paced the room back and forth, unable to stand still. I was horny with no hope of relief. I dropped my head back, shutting my eyes, and willed my aching erection to chill the fuck out.
I needed to get rid of the buzzing energy. It was time to have a little fun of my own.
The humans needed a fucking reminder of their mortality and how easily their lives could end.
I picked the oldest, most expensive looking book on the shelf. The musty smell of mold told me I’d picked the right one. The brittle, yellowing pages looked like they would make perfect kindling to send this place up in flames. I dangled the book from its broken spine, holding the lighter under the pages. Flames quickly consumed the paper, nipping at my fingertips.
I dropped the book on the throw rug in the middle of the room. It must’ve been cheap because it ignited easily. The fire greedily ate away the entire thing. Stifling black smoke filledthe room and filtered down the hall toward the unsuspecting partygoers.
I admired my handiwork. The fire crackled as it spread up the legs of the desk, destroying any evidence that I’d been in the study and making it impossible to tell what was taken.
I followed the smoke down the hallway and escaped out the front door amid all the confusion.
The panicky screams were a sweet, sweet melody to my ears as I watched the townsfolk run from the burning building. Wailing sirens blared in the distance. The horn of the fire engine honked three times as it turned down the street.
The soon-to-be mayor was already wasting taxpayer dollars because the fire had already been contained. Devin had acted quickly, confining the majority of the damage to the study and adjoining rooms.
My phone dinged in my pocket.
Lyra: You set the house on fire????
Me: I had to cover up that we stole the spellbook.
Dots popped up and quickly disappeared. It happened again and again, but she never sent a response, and after a while, they disappeared altogether. Because she knew I was right.
The fridge light drove away the darkness blanketing the kitchen. A six-pack of beer was the only thing inside. I popped off the cap, and it clinked to the floor, bouncing under one of the barstools.My grip tightened around the bottle as I downed half of it in a single gulp. I slammed it down on the counter as I took a seat and stared at the familiar book.
I finished off my beer, trying to delay the inevitable—opening the damn thing.
This book was a look into Veda’s deranged mind. I was going to need something stronger, like a double shot of whiskey. But like my fridge, the pantry and cabinets were also barren.
The book fell open to a page Veda must have read often. Her handwriting was neat and precise. Clinical.
My stomach churned as the memories resurfaced. Bile burned my throat. Veda had used me, and I was too stupid to realize it until it was too late. Until this godforsaken shackle was already around my neck.
