Fae Fiefdom - M. Sinclair Page 0,15
night, but when you found a bar that let you drink underage? You drank -- because that was some damn good fortune. Especially considering I hadn’t wanted to go to my normal spot, afraid that the people I knew there would notice the change in my emotions that night. Notice that something was wrong and try to pry it out of me. No doubt, they would have been successful.
No, instead I’d been determined in my efforts to celebrate and push past the memories of the loss of my mother. He had clearly been trying to forget something as well, as the two of us danced, literally body to body, with no space between. I think I may have been the one to kiss him first.
Then one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was being screwed senseless in the back hallway of a crowded club with my leather skirt pushed up around my hips, his teeth biting into the back of my neck. Animalistic, primal, and hot as hell. Hell of a way to lose my virginity. I would not be forgetting that any time soon…no literally, it was seared into my consciousness.
At least the one time I had sex was good, right? His bite mark hadn’t gone away, so I had covered that up with one of my favorite Arabic verses, but I could appreciate how hot it had been at the moment. It was all I had to appreciate because since then, I hadn’t had sex, and Kirin had made it awkward as fuck by never responding to my text the next day…so yeah. You could say that I’ve been avoiding him like the black plague for the past three weeks.
My eyes ran over the pressed button-down and dress pants he was wearing, his gaze looking far older than eighteen. In fact, his entire energy was lethal and languid as if he knew something I didn’t. Until he was screwing me of course, then he turned into something else. I could see the ownership in his gaze, and I shivered trying to step back as he let out an actual growl making my pulse race.
“Zaya,” he purred, his voice elegant and shiver-inducing, making my face turn red at his term of endearment. In Russian, the term loosely meant bunny. I would like to think I am tougher than a bunny, but honestly, in his arms, I felt every ounce of my dominance melt into a puddle on the floor. That was the part about him I didn’t understand. I literally craved to submit to him.
“Kirin,” I mumbled, offering a tight smile while trying to step away. Honestly, I deserved props for continuing my effort to distance myself from him. My body was very much in disagreement with my mind and heart.
“Stop moving away from me,” he warned softly, his hand cupping my jaw.
Was no one else seeing this? I was totally being kept prisoner by a sexy man with a British accent. Alright, to be fair I probably wouldn’t save me either. I felt my center clench and my entire body felt like fucking goo.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
I licked my lips, feeling anger pulse through me, “Well, when someone doesn’t text back after a one night stand, I tend to assume they aren’t interested.”
His brow dipped. “I never got a text from you, Ophelia. I’ve been trying to find you at school but you keep avoiding me. Why?” He was right about one thing, I’ve literally ducked out of rooms to avoid him…so of course, I would run right into him today.
“I just explained why,” I growled, “and you don’t have to save my feelings. It’s fine. Really. I’ve moved on.”
His nostrils flared. “You don’t get to move on.”
“Screw you,” I growled, the words popping out surprising us both as his eyes darkened and his grip tightened on my jaw slightly. My entire body breaking out into flushed shivers.
No really, screw this guy. Kirin and I had known one another fairly well before all this bullshit had started. We had worked together on projects and unlike most people, he had talked to me openly.
Then that had happened, and I had faced the reality the next day, not even two days into my 18 years, that I’d been ghosted by my first one night stand. Hell of a way to celebrate right? Let me tell you, I had been somewhat of a mess that following week. Not that I would ever give him the