Le Salon. Zoe hasn’t shown up yet, and I’ve been tempted to climb into her room’s window since three nights ago after the lake house.
Actually, I did. Twice. Like a guard from hell, Scar’s unpleasant existence was at the window pane every time.
She and Mist are being a pain in the arse.
Finishing what I started with Zoe that night isn’t a need, it’s a necessity. Just the memory of her body melting into mine and my marks on her soft, pale skin makes my dick hard. Her moans, her screams, and her struggles are engraved in the depth of my soul. Just like every fucking monster, I want more.
I want everything.
Zoe is the first woman who fights me. I thought I liked them chained, but with her, I love the struggle more. I crave her wild spirit, but I’ll enjoy slamming past her defences more.
She says I’m hollow, and I’m so fucking tempted to make her as hollow as me.
Break her.
Destroy her.
Claim her.
Just thinking about the moment she’ll be completely mine makes my dick strain against my jeans.
I adjust the bulge, not wanting to appear like a fucking schoolboy. I lost count of the times I jerked off to her memory from that night.
This can’t go on.
I stand, bent on breaking her room’s door if I have to. If Scar gets in the way, I’ll throw her out of the window. That psycho doll should know better than to fuck with me.
My movements stop.
I feel her before seeing her. A sixth sense or Omega or whatever the fuck it is, I just do.
Zoe appears from around the corner with Scar. She’s wearing a tight, little blue dress that shows the slightest hint of her pale tits and hugs her delicate curves.
My eyes rake over her from the bottom up. Those sublime legs that wrapped around me when she wrestled me down. Those hips I held onto when I ate her up. Her sweet taste still lingers on my tongue.
The brightest green eyes inspect her surroundings, but she’s not looking at me. She hasn’t looked at me since that day — not that she can see me from this angle. She used to drive me fucking mad with her defiance and constant glares, but now, she’s avoiding me.
I might have pushed her too far. Too bad I don’t fucking care. She’s pushing me, too, and I hold bloody grudges.
Scar finally lets her go and Zoe swiftly disappears behind the bar. I empty my glass, slam it on the counter and stalk towards her. A bartender bows his head in respect. I nod back and motion for him to take the other side. He obeys without a word.
Zoe is perched under the bar. At this angle, I have a clear view of that tight little arse in the dress that begs for my hands on it.
She searches for something while holding a phone to her ear. Since it’s the beginning of the night, the music is tame, so I can hear what she says loud and clear.
“The noise? Ah, yeah, I’m out with friends.”
I stand right behind her, cross my arms and ankles and lean against the wall. She’s lying. But to whom? That boyfriend of hers?
Red covers my vision at the thought of someone else having her, touching her, tasting her.
I’m tempted to place a joker card on that boyfriend. Scratch that. No Zero will take my fun. Killing him will be mine and mine alone.
Did she also tell him that she came all over my mouth? I might have to find him and tell him that myself — before I crush his skull.
“I miss you soooo much, Rage Ball.” Zoe does a kissing sound and hangs up.
“Who’s Rage Ball?” I ask. She even has a nickname for the bastard?
Zoe jerks back and bumps her head against the counter above. She falls to her arse, groans, and cuts me a glare over her shoulder. Her nose crinkles when she does that, and it looks adorable.
I can’t help but grin even though her phone call put me in a murderous mood.
She rubs on the spot where she was hit and winces. “This is stalkerish, you know.”
“Do I look like I care?”
She stands and points a finger at my chest. “I guess I was naïve enough to believe that maybe something might grow here.”
My grin widens, but I jerk her hand free. I hate how she keeps throwing those words around like I’m not worth her time or energy.