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I smell his fear and it turns me into a fucking ravenous beast. I want more. I want my people.
“You should thank your lucky stars.” I release Willis and pull my knife out of Razor’s hand. “Scratch that. You should thank me that I didn’t do worse.”
“T-thank you,” he says wisely.
“Stay,” I address both of them. I pull the knife out of Razor’s hand, grab Willis’s jacket from his chair, and throw it at Razor. “Use this to slow the bleeding. Now, get the fuck out of here. Both of you.”
They scramble to the door. Neither of them can get away from me fast enough. They’re scared of me. For the time being.
I snatch a sanitizing wipe from the box near Amara’s flowers.
Amara.
One day, Willis and Razor will remember this moment. Revenge will poison their veins like many others before them. They might even try something.
Killian and I are basically the UN in this fucked up criminal world. The UN, not Miss fucking Congeniality. Never have, never will be. To be feared and respected, we’ve been terrorizing these assholes for years. Killian has been doing it long before I came along.
They might hurt Amara if they find out about her. Someone might’ve already done that. Last night won’t repeat itself. I won’t let it.
My protective side rages. I’m a caged lion, itching to tear someone’s throat using my bare teeth.
Without telling Amara that the man she loves has blood on his hands, I can’t show her off around here. Can’t lick her neck in public. Dare anyone but Killian to look at what’s mine.
What could be ours.
She wouldn’t have her guard up around these beasts. They would use it to their advantage. Hurt her as soon as we turn our heads.
I’m not ready to tell her. It’ll take time. Everything will.
I’ll have to play it right, whether Killian joins our fun or not.
My smile is wiped off my face. I wipe my knife and toss it on the table.
Fuck.
Love is a blessing.
Love is a weakness.
“Morning.” The bass voice reaches from behind me. “Your toys make it out alive?”
A hot current runs down my spine hearing Killian. Smelling his cologne. Feeling his all-consuming aura.
Guess I’m not pissed off anymore.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carter
“Well?” Killian probes when I don’t say a word.
Slowly, seductively, I turn to him.
Dressed in one of our signature black suits and his dark, penetrating glare, Killian exudes dominance. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, not a strand of hair slipping out of his carefully styled dirty blond hairstyle.
A strange notion hits me. I’m not mad or jealous of him for being with Amara. In a car. By himself.
I’m possessive as fuck when it comes to her. Bradley and the dude from yesterday are a prime example of that. In Killian’s case, though, I feel none of that.
