Fire Night (Devil's Night 4.5)

Who—?

None of the men were wearing cloaks. Now that would be overdressed.

But when I searched for him again, he wasn’t there. A chill crawled up my back at the way he’d just stood there, the black hollows of his eyes frozen on me.

“You better go,” Damon said.

Huh?

I turned to him, seeing him gesture behind me. Following his gaze, I finally caught sight of my wife as she pulled on a white, half-mask, covering her eyes and nose, looking to me as she slowly backed away into the shadows. I flexed my jaw even as my groin swelled with heat at how taunting she was.

Don’t you dare.

I started off, following her, the man in the cloak and mask forgotten.

I sidestepped the dancers, weaving in and out of the crowd, reaching her just in time to take her arm.

“Stop,” I whispered in her ear.

She tensed, refusing to turn and face me.

“I wasn’t going to kill her,” she said in a low voice, staring at young Soraya at the edge of the room. “Just freak her out a little.”

“She’s a child.”

“Yes.” She turned her head, challenging me. “I seem to remember being that child’s age the first time you had your hand up my shirt.”

The memory of that mysterious girl in my arms in the Bell Tower washed over me again. “Your shirt,” I pointed out.

Not hers.

She spun around, her green eyes and eye makeup piercing me through the white mask. “I mean it,” she said, inching away like she was something I could never have. “You wouldn’t tolerate me teaching someone who flirted with me.”

“And you wouldn’t let me dictate what you’re allowed and not allowed to do.” I stepped forward as she retreated.

I’d admit, I kind of liked her jealousy.

But then I didn’t.

I didn’t like that it could be coming from insecurity.

“Don’t you trust it?” I asked her.

“What?”

“That this will never end.”

She needed everyone to know that I was hers, when it would save her a lot of aggravation if it could just be enough to know that I knew I was hers.

I stalked toward her, slow step after slow step as my eyes dropped to her tits threatening to pop over the top of her dress.

And believe me, I knew I was hers.

The man in her bed every night. The father of her children. Her partner in everything I did.

“I want to give you something,” I told her.

Couples swirled around us, neither of us blinking as her eyes seemed to glow in the dim light.

“Come here now,” I said.

But she didn’t. She just kept backing away.

My blood started to boil. We didn’t have all night. There was shit I wanted to do before the kids got back. “You’re pissing me off,” I bit out, digging in my heels. “You know I don’t like making scenes.”

But I would if I had to.

She didn’t give me a chance. As soon as she reached the edge of the room, she spun around, dove through the double doors, and disappeared. I bolted after her, not giving a shit at the eyes I caught flashing our way.

Coming into the next room, dark with only a couple hidden in the corner making out, I caught sight of her red dress as she disappeared around another corner. I chased her, finally seeing her scurry up the back stairwell.

Running up after her, I wound around the spiral staircase, the stones grinding under my shoe.

Just as we reached the second floor and she tried to escape up to the third, I caught her arm and whipped her around, pinning her into the wall.

“Like I wouldn’t catch you,” I taunted. “I don’t even know why you try.”

A taper flickered on the wall, and I stared down into her eyes, my lips hovering over hers.

She rocked off the wall, but I pushed her back and hiked up her dress, pressing my hand between her legs, my fingers on fire as I rubbed her softly.

Jesus Christ. She was bare. Completely bare.

She shuddered but stopped fighting, and I grinned, loving these rare, little surprises she gave me.

No panties was so unlike her.

“What were you and the girls planning down there?” I whispered over her mouth.

“N—Nothing.”

I glided my hand up the inside of her thighs, feeling my dick harden. God, I couldn’t wait.

“Look at me, Nik.”

Slowly, her eyes rose, unable to resist me when I used her real name.

“I want to give you something,” I said, my mouth dry with need. “Reach into my jacket. Take it out.”

I ran my fingers over her soft skin, and then my knuckles, needing every inch of my skin to touch every inch of hers.

She reached into my breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wrapped around a small object.

I stopped rubbing her, but I didn’t move my hand as she unwrapped the gift.

A silver comb laid inside the cloth, the ornate design featuring three rubies gleaming up at her.