Horrified and disbelieving, Vash stared at the number on the door, wil ing it to change when she blinked. The unmistakable sounds of enthusiastic sex emanating from Elijah’s room twisted her stomach into a hard knot. A shard of white-hot pain speared through her chest.
A woman’s breathless pleas for more…rhythmical y squeaking bedsprings…the growl of a man pumping his way to climax… Her bag fel from her nerveless fingers to the ground. For a moment she stood shattered, something inside her broken into pieces. Then fury took over. Lifting her foot, she kicked in the door. The woman’s high-pitched scream only spurred her bloodlust. The smel of sex hit her hard, propel ing her across the room toward the big figure rising up from the mattress.
“I’l kil you!” she hissed, backhanding him so hard he flew from the bed and crashed into the dresser. Her head swiveled toward the cowering nude woman on the mattress, her hand rising and clawed to strike.
Her wrist was caught in a steely grip midair. “Vashti.”
Syre’s voice, low and furious behind her, penetrated her wrath. She glanced at him. “Let me go.”
“What the f**k is going on?”
Her spine stiffened at Elijah’s barked question. Her gaze shifted to the silhouette in the doorway—the familiar broad shoulders, tapered waist, and long legs. He was shirtless, barefooted, his jeans unbuttoned and barely clinging onto lean hips.
The woman on the bed was stil screaming like a banshee. The man who’d been f**king her moaned from where he was sprawled on the floor.
Yanking her arm free of Syre, Vash rounded on Elijah. “This is your goddamned room!”
His eyes glittered in the semidarkness. His arms crossed, taunting her with the sight of his gorgeous biceps and lickable abs. He was hard al over, precisely cut and built. And she wanted him. Desperately.
Sudden silence descended as the woman abruptly ceased her caterwauling. Syre’s soothing murmurs registered in Vash’s brain, then faded beneath her roaring blood.
“It was my room,” he corrected silkily. “Obviously, I moved.”
She bit off a scream of frustration. His mouth twitched as his gaze took in the scene behind her.
Mortified at her lack of control, she got in his face. “Don’t smirk. If that guy had been you, you’d be swal owing your severed bal s right now.”
He set a hand over his heart. “I feel so loved.”
Her mouth opened on a retort when Raze sauntered up with their reinforcements in tow. He looked at the crumpled metal door, the warped frame, and the situation inside. Then he looked at Vashti with one brow raised.
“Don’t say a word,” she warned him. “Not one f**king word.”
Syre came out of the room like a shadow, sinuous and silent. His face was impassive, but his eyes were deadly. “The mortals won’t remember this incident, but damned if I’l let you forget it, Vashti.”
His chin lifted. Elijah stepped forward, positioning himself in a way that put him between her and her commander. The gesture was a protective one. And undeniably chal enging.
She didn’t need a shield with Syre, but that didn’t stop her throat from tightening over Elijah’s wil ingness to be one for her.
Himeko stepped up behind her Alpha, her smile too damn intimate for Vash’s tastes. “Does your room have two beds, El?”
His gaze never left Syre’s face. “It does, yes. It’s open to whoever wants it.”
Vash fought with herself, wondering if he’d reject her publicly if she jumped at the chance to share a room with him. She didn’t get the opportunity to find out.
Himeko pounced first. “I’l room with you. I know you don’t snore.”
Vash scowled. How the hell did she know that?
“Come on, then.” Elijah gestured down the hal way. “We need to crash. We’re gonna have a hel of a morning in a few hours.”
Which, Vash suddenly realized, was why she needed to be with him so badly. She’d very nearly lost him once. Every minute she wasn’t with him was a minute wasted. The fact that she even thought of her time with him in those minuscule terms was tel ing, considering how long she’d been alive and how much longer she had yet to live.
Needing something else to focus on, she turned to clean up the mess she’d made. Damn it. The poor bastard inside was probably hurt real bad.
She’d hit him with the thought that he was a lycan and therefore could take the force of her strength.
“I took care of it,” Syre said grimly. “His wounds are healed, but he’l have a hel of a headache.”