Page 75 of Breathe Like Hell

But I didn’t need him to clarify what he was talking about. He was talking about Aamon.

One of my least favorite topics, especially now that it had to do with Dakota’s safety. I would forever be pissed at Mason at creating this enemy who attacked the people he loved.

Anxiety instantly stretched across my chest, making it hard to breathe, erasing the ease I’d felt after my powerful orgasm. But it would be a trillion times harder to breathe if anything ever happened to Dakota, so we couldn’t keep sitting around waiting for a solution to this Aamon problem to fall into our lap. We had to create one ourselves.

She was getting impatient, too. More nervous.

“I don’t want to do that,” I answered and set my bag down on the island, before going to the cabinet and grabbing a glass for water.

“Neither do I.” Mason stood up and came towards me. He was barefoot, wearing nothing except a pair of shorts slung low on his hips. He looked and smelled like sex. “I’m running out of options, here. I can keep trying to visit places where he might be, but he also knows I’m looking for him. We’re not going to be able to go to him; he has to come to us.”

I took a long sip of cool water, focusing on keeping my heart rate steady, keeping my thoughts from spiraling.

But the panic was there, lurking under the surface.

There was only one way to make Aamon come to us.

Only one lure we could use.

“Do you think you can do it?” Mason asked.

The logistics of using Dakota as demon-bait were going to be a nightmare, and of course all that extra work fell on my shoulders. Mason couldn’t help me with this.

“I don’t see what choice I have. It’s not that much worse than how it would’ve been before.” It wouldn’t be much worse, but it would still be worse. That didn’t make me comfortable at all, especially not with Dakota’s life directly on the line.

“You could just let me die at the end. Probably be helpful for you.” He stepped closer and my fingers flexed on the glass.

“I’m not fucking weak. I can do it.”

I could, though. I could let him die. As long as I kept him from losing all control long enough to kill Aamon, there was no reason for me to fix all his fractures afterwards.

No reason at all.

His brown eyes hooked on mine, a challenge darkening his stare. “You know, Kill,” he started, stepping into my space, close enough that I could feel his body heat. I didn’t surrender an inch. “I bet if you kissed me right now, I’d still taste like her pussy.”

“Fuck off.”

“No.” He moved closer, my shirt brushing his bare torso when I breathed.

“Mason. Leave.”

He leaned forward fast, kissing me once on the mouth before pulling back.

My stare found his, like magnets snapping into place.

The only sound in the room was our combined breathing.

Neither of us moved.

And then I grabbed the back of his neck, hauling him to me, viciously crushing our mouths together. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I fought the urge to groan.

Yeah, he still tasted like her. Just enough that I couldn’t fucking stop myself.

I flipped us, pushing Mason up against the fridge, gripping his throat, kissing him deep and sloppy. My breath tore in and out of my chest raggedly, my cock fully erect in my slacks. He was hard, too. I could feel it when I rolled my hips against his.

But I didn’t want him.

This wasn’t about him at all.