Page 14 of His Eternal Claim

I lace my fingers through hers and I force myself to look back at Adrian’s shady face.

“Run along, Davenport.” My thumb brushes over Selene’s knuckles. “You’ve mistaken politeness for permission.”

For a moment, neither of us moves before Adrian lifts both hands in surrender. “Message received.”

He glances between Selene and me. “Enjoy the evening, beautiful.”

I wait until he’s gone before releasing a slow breath. How the fuck dare he call her beautiful? She is, though, but no man can tell her that except me. I am tempted to go after him when soft fingers curl around my jaw.

My attention snaps back to Selene.

She turns my face toward her. Those brown eyes study me for a second as she rises onto her toes and presses a soft kiss against my lips.

I taste sugar and jasmine as I lean in. She immediately pulls away. A triumphant smile spreads across her face.

“No.”

I raise a brow, licking my lips, wanting nothing more than to grab her by the neck. “No?”

“No.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement. “You were being a bad boy.”

I stare at her as she folds her arms, her soft breasts bouncing up, and I can’t take my eyes off.

“You don’t get rewarded for threatening people.”

“I wasn’t threatening him.” My mouth goes dry.

“Zagreus.” She whispers and I have to force myself to look at her eyes instead. There’s a pout on her lips; I want to kiss it so bad. “He still has both kneecaps.”

I raise my brow. “And?”

“Be good to people.”

“Define good.”

“Less murder.”

“That’s a very broad request, Dolcezza.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a step backward, trying to create distance between us. Before she can escape, I catch her hand. With a tug, I twirl her around, trapping her body forward against the railing.

I step in, crowding her from behind until there isn’t a single inch of air left between us. I press my erection hard against her ass, letting her feel the exact effect she has on me.

“Am I good enough now?” I growl against her ear, my hands wrapping around her hips to anchor her right against the heat of my pants.

She looks at me over her shoulder, all flushed and red. I guess I don’t dislike the red after all.

Chapter 7

Collision

THE MAESTRO | Present

Most men, when their wives are stolen, become rabid dogs. They bark, they bleed, and they tear at the leash until they choke on their own spit.

But I am not most men. I am a Vitale, a name I have spent my entire life trying to scrub off my skin, yet the harder I scrub, the deeper the ink bleeds.

The trap I built six months ago is finally snapping shut.