Page 26 of Bitten By the Basilisk

“Silas,” she whispered, right on the edge.

He sealed their lips together. At the same time, she swung one of her legs over the passenger seat of the bike, using it as leverage to rub her clit against the vibrating ridge of his erection.

Pleasure broke over her in a wave of hot tingles, drawing out a sharp cry. Warm slick dampened her panties. She clung to Silas as if he were a buoy in a stormy sea, heart pounding, body shaking. He continued to grind her against his lap, kissed her gasping mouth, until her body went slack with a worn-out whimper. Only then did the vibrations cease.

“Good girl,” he praised in a low rumble. “Come here, I have you.” She laid her cheek on his shoulder while she caught her breath, the crisp breeze drying the sweat on her temples. He held her securely, patiently, pressing kisses to her brow. “That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

She smiled through a puff of laughter. “What a coincidence. Me, too.”

His answering chuckle shook his chest. When she raised her head, he took her lips in a long, gentle kiss, keeping her close with a hand between her shoulder blades. Even through their clothes, she could feel the throbbing pulse of his erection jammed between her legs.

“Can I have this next?” she whispered, rocking her hips against him.

He gave a tense groan. “You can have anything you want, kitten.”

The rising whoosh of an approaching vehicle jerked them both out of the sex-drunk fog they were lost in. A wide beam of light swept the front of the lot as the car drove past, not stopping. Thankfully, they were far enough from the road that the sunflowers kept them hidden this time, but not if a car were to come from the other direction.

She blew out a sigh. “I guess this isn’t the best place for a hookup, huh.”

He grunted in apparent frustration, his jaw flexing. “Let me take you home with me,” he said, kneading her backside, a cheek in each hand, “so I can worship you right.”

Smiling, she nodded in agreement, only they couldn’t help sharing another kiss. Then another.

When she caught herself wiggling around on his bulge, she pulled back with a breathless laugh. He lifted her off his lap, and a few moments later, they were flying down the road back into town.

Chapter Eight

Alice

Silas drove them into the residential part of Indigo Cove—a mix of apartments, single-family homes, and even a few mansions. His nest occupied a walled apartment complex with a large, rolling gate that smoothly slid open once he was in range.

The buildings beyond all shimmered with glamour that made them appear as five-story brick colonials. She chose to concentrate on the nearest one, but they were driving too fast for her to see it as it truly was.

“Why the glamour? What’s behind it?” she decided to ask as they drove deeper into the complex.

“The Nest would stick out too much without it. Literally and figuratively. Each building is taller than it appears, with much larger windows.”

His description helped her discern the real building they were driving toward, which stood several stories higher than its glamoured appearance. The facade had a modern design that wouldn’t have been out of place in Chicago—more glass than steel or concrete, with staggered balconies.

No sooner did she see the real building than they descended a ramp into a well-maintained underground garage containing at least a couple dozen luxury cars, each parked in their own spacious bay.

“Wow, are any of these yours?” she couldn’t help asking.

“The Bentley over there,” he answered, pointing at a two-door onyx coupe ahead of them on the left. “The rest belong to the building’s other residents.”

Her mom had mentioned that many of the town’s supes were wealthy, and Silas had already told her his family’s company operated some mines. However, seeing so many expensive cars in one place was a stark reminder of how differently Silas and his kind lived. And they hadn’t even gotten to his apartment yet.

She did her best to shake off a sudden sense of inadequacy. They were just hooking up, so what did it matter how rich he was?

Silas pulled his motorcycle into bay number one, directly next to the elevator and across from bay number two, where his Bentley was parked. Automatic recessed lighting blinked on to illuminate the bay and the metal workbench in back where he had a couple of spare helmets and a collection of automotive tools, some of which she couldn’t begin to identify.

According to the time on a digital display next to the elevator, she had been awake for almost nineteen hours, and yet nervous energy buzzed in her veins as she dismounted and removed her helmet.

When Silas took his off, she was struck once again by the brilliant gold color of his eyes, not to mention the handsome face they came with nor the small, crooked smile he wore.

“You still up for this?” he asked, almost like a dare, pushing his hand through his hair to make it sit right.

She held out her borrowed helmet. “I am if you are.”