Lilith
I was right.
Kael is heavy.
I made a gurney from tree branches and what is left of my clothes to drag him in the direction of the safe house.
When I started the journey, I thought it might not be so bad, but now that I am several hours into it, I hate everyone and everything.
I have cursed every god and their makers as I drag Kael through the forest.
Still, the gods must have been on my side for once, because I didn’t run into another werewolf or rogue.
The GPS on my phone dings, letting me know that I am getting close to the house.
The muscles in my arms burn, and my legs ache.
I decided about an hour ago that I will leave him once I get to the safe house.
I have done my part.
The safe house rises in the distance like a castle.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it is not this.
It might be hidden, but it is the most luxurious safehouse I have ever seen.
I drag him to the door and press the badge to the reader.
The door swings open, and I drag the oversized man into the house.
I drop the gurney, and my arms thank me, but he groans painfully as he hits the ground.
The first thing I do is search the house, looking for a blanket to cover up his nakedness and more bandages.
Once I find what I am looking for, I tend to him, redressing his wounds and mourning my favorite shirts, which have been sacrificed in the name of a good deed.
Once I am done taking care of him, I try to leave, but the shallow sound of his breathing keeps me here.
I tell myself that I will leave once he is awake and safe.
I suppose I owe him that much.
Removing my shoes, I trapse to the kitchen and look for something to clean the blood from my hands and clothes.
Standing at the kitchen sink, I wash my shirt, keeping my eyes on the man lying in the entryway.
He doesn’t move, and I can’t see his chest moving with his breath.
“Shit,” I grumble, leaving my shirt in the sink.
I make my way over to him and nudge him with the tip of my bare foot.
“Argh,” I groan.
“Don’t be dead.”
I kick his side again, but there is still no response.
This time, I press my foot on top of his chest, wiggling him from side to side.
There is still no response.
“Fuck,” I shout.
“Of course, you would die after I ruined all of my clothes to get you to your precious safe house.
Of course you would die.”
Frustration builds in my stomach, and I storm away from him.
Making my way back into the kitchen, I pull my wet shirt back over my head and decide to leave.
When I pass by him, I decide to try to wake him one more time.
I, less than gently, stomp on his chest.
Not once, but three times.
Each time I do, more frustration builds in my chest.
There is something else beneath the frustration, something else that I refuse to put a name to, because that would be ridiculous.
I only just met him.
I raise my foot to stomp on him again, and his eyes fly open.
His hand darts out, and he grabs my foot, flipping me onto the floor.
My back hits the ground with a painful thud, and he is on top of me in an instant, pinning my arms above my head.
My chest heaves up and down at the close proximity and the look in his eyes.
“Were you kicking me?” He mutters, leaning in close.
Too close.
I swallow hard, finding it difficult to find my voice.
“I thought you were dead.”
He presses his chest to mine and runs his nose along my jaw.
“Your shirt is wet.”
I shift beneath him, acutely aware that only my clothes are separating my skin from his body.
“It was covered in your blood.”
Something like a purr rumbles in his chest and buries his nose in my neck.
My body betrays me, and I arch into his touch, wanting to feel more.
My breath hitches, and I bite my lip, suppressing a moan.
Blood floods into my mouth as his hand continues to explore me.
Casper has touched me before, but it never felt like this.
His hand curls in the fabric of my shirt, and he rips it from my body.
The sting of the fabric pulling against my skin makes me hiss, but he doesn’t let that stop him.
His lips, teeth, and tongue roam over my skin, leaving marks that I am sure will be there for days.
But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to care.
My fingers dig into his back, trying to drag him closer to me.
He shifts between my legs, and I can feel his cock, pressing against my entrance through my jeans.
I should stop him.
I should stop this.
But I don’t get the opportunity.
Suddenly, the door to the safe house swings open, and two men walk in.
Their eyes are on us instantly.
One visibly pales at the scene laid out before him, but the other looks smug.
“Well.
Well.
Well,” the smug one laughs.
“What do we have here?”
Kael lifts his head from where it was buried in my neck and smiles.
The asshole smiles.
“Beta Ethan, Doctor Ian, this is Lilith.”
My face burns with embarrassment, but the Beta doesn’t seem to care, and neither does Kael.
“Your highness,” Ian whispers.
“I need to check your wounds.”
Kael looks back at me with a smile still on his face.
“We can finish this later.”
Still red with embarrassment, I cover myself with my arms.
“Don’t count on it.”
Kael doesn’t seem fazed.
“Ethan, find her some clothes that aren’t covered in my blood.”