Crimson Highlander (Onyx Assassins 2)

A muscle in his jaw popped, anger churning hot and acidic in his eyes. He took a few steadying breaths before he looked at me again. “It’s. Not. Like. That.” He had to grind out each word. “It’s not about pleasure unless I choose for it to be, and I haven’t since…”

Since our bond. He didn’t need to say the words. I knew it. Knew it just as much as I knew I wouldn’t have so much as looked at another male since him—didn’t matter if Jason freaking Momoa walked into the room right now and offered to make me scream, I wouldn’t even have to think about it. It would be a hard no.

Because nothing else existed for me outside of Lachlan. And now that I’d gotten a taste of what it was like in bed with him? God, I was so fucked.

“And it’s not like you’re offering,” he said, his voice so low I almost didn’t catch his words.

My thighs clenched with the images my mind provided—how much better would it be if he were inside me and he bit me? Lyric had told me enough to know there was nothing else in the world like it—but sharing blood between mates? That was as good as saying I do, right?

“You didn’t seem keen to ask, either,” I fired back.

We stared each other down, neither one ready to break.

“If I don’t feed, Valor, I’ll turn into—”

“A real monster,” I said. “I know. The girls filled me in.”

He leaned down, resting his forehead against mine as if he needed the contact to calm the rage I’d purposely put in his blood.

Probably not one of my smarter ideas, but damn it, he needed to know how much it hurt, irrational or not.

“I promise, lass. It’s just like when you eat to nourish your body. You don’t see me getting jealous when you tuck into those BLTs you love so much.”

I laughed, the motion freeing the grittiness in my chest and earning me a rare smile from the highlander too.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he said again.

I looked up into his eyes, my body practically buzzing with the need to touch him. “Okay, it doesn’t mean anything,” I said as I smoothed my hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck. We’d promised each other only one night together. Just enough to scratch the itch that made us both unfocused and reckless. But I’d been a fool. One night would never be enough. “And neither does this.” I hopped up, and he caught me instantly. My thighs hugged his hips, and I crushed my mouth against his.

“Fuck,” he hissed against my lips.

I sucked his tongue into my mouth before jerking my head back enough to meet his gaze. “Say it doesn’t mean anything,” I demanded, breathless. His eyes narrowed, and I tangled my fingers into his hair, yanking on it. “Say it, Lachlan.”

A wicked smirk shaped his lips. “It doesn’t mean anything—”

I slanted my mouth over his again and rocked against him. “My bed or yours, lass?” he spoke against my lips.

“Mine is closer.”

“By a few inches,” he argued.

“I don’t care, just take me.”

He moved then, graceful and quick, without breaking our kiss. The softness of my own mattress hit my spine as he deposited me onto the bed. He eyed the bucket on my nightstand. “Were you celebrating?” he asked, noting the ice surrounding the half-empty champagne bottle.

“Owen brought it up after I asked for something sweet and alcoholic to drink.”

Another low growl rumbled from his chest, and I bit my lip. “Sorry,” I said, knowing saying another man’s name right now probably wasn’t the best idea.

“Sorry?” He tilted his head, slipping his leather jacket off one arm at a time. In another smooth motion, his black tank top hit the floor. Then his pants. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard those words leave those red lips of yours.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I snapped but couldn’t hold back a gasp at the sight of him. This? The tatted-up perfection of his muscled body, the glorious hard length of him…it’d never get old.

“I don’t plan on getting used to anything when it comes to you, Valor,” he growled, stalking me on the bed.

The words sizzled along that bond of ours—the one that pulsed with equal parts lust and anger. How could we fight and fuck like champions without falling over that edge of the bond that would have us turning into something so much more? I didn’t have the answers, and he clearly didn’t either, but that didn’t stop him from shedding my clothes with a few expert flicks of his fingers.

I gasped again when his hands gripped my knees, drawing them apart—

“Nu-huh,” I said, and he instantly became a statue.

“Valor,” he said my name with barely held restraint. “What do—”