Page 140 of Twisting Beauty

My gaze narrowed on the boy’s face.

“When I’m finished,” I vowed, “there’ll be no one left to mourn him.”

I snatched the knife off the side table and stabbed it into his face. The screen sparked before going black.

“Alistair’s bloodline ends with him.”

41

LORCAN

Her body was warm under mine, my mouth still at the curve of her throat where I had buried my face after I came.

The pleasure drained out of me too quickly, leaving a cold, hard knot of dread beneath my ribs.

I was in too deep. She was already under my skin. Losing her would be like tearing flesh from my bones.

Fuck. There were too many ways to lose her.

My hand spread wider across her back, anchoring her to me like I could keep her there if I just held tight enough.

She tensed underneath me, an audible intake of air, causing my head to snap up.

Her eyes were wide open, fixed on something on the floor.

I followed her gaze.

The clay pot lay on its side in the wreckage of soil and broken violets.

But something dark and small lay among the broken ceramic.

A hidden camera.

I went very still.

Someone had been watching us.

The thought landed heavy and ugly, scraping something violent loose in my chest.

I leaped off the bed and crossed the short distance, lifting my foot over the camera.

“Wait!”

Her voice came sharp behind me.

I brought my foot down, the plastic cracking under my heel, and held the pressure there a second longer than necessary.

“Shit, Lorcan.” Her voice was tight as she pulled a silk robe around her shoulders. “We could have gotten something from it. About who.”

She belted the robe around her tightly, her hand at her throat holding the lapel shut.

“Who?” I asked, turning to face her, my voice gone flat.

She did not answer immediately.

“Alistair,” she said.

“No.”