Beyond Control - By Kit Rocha Page 0,3

to know where she was. "Don't suppose Noelle's seen Lex?"

Jas shook his head. "Nah, not tonight. But I can let you know if she shows up at our place."

Dallas paused with his lighter open but unstruck. "Does that happen a lot?"

"Often enough." The corner of Jasper's mouth quirked up. "Had to get a bigger bed."

There was a mental image to give any man a raging hard-on. Sleek, hungry Lex climbing into bed with dreamy-eyed Noelle. A sexy, gorgeous sector woman and a soft, curvy princess out of Eden, tangled together. Naked.

And Jasper, the lucky bastard, getting to have them both in his damn bed. "What a hardship," Dallas drawled. "Must be rough."

A creak interrupted his reply. "You bragging again, Jas?" Lex closed the side gate and fixed the man with a challenging look. "Whatever happened to not kissing and telling?"

"Guess I'm not as well-mannered as you thought." He grinned at Dallas as he turned back toward the garage. "Good night. To both of you."

Dallas took his time lighting his cigarette, waiting until the door shut behind Jasper to click his lighter closed. "I'm surprised you're not curled around Noelle right now. You know city folk don't like the dark."

"She has Jasper." Lex was dressed in head-to-toe black and zipped up all the way to her chin. "Besides, I was busy."

"Mmm, busy." Even though his eyes had adjusted to the dark, she was barely more than a shadow. He couldn't see her face or judge her expression, which would have been a disadvantage with anyone else. With Lex, it never mattered. She'd been trained from the cradle to show the world only what she wanted it to see. "We're not under lockdown anymore, love, but you picked a hell of a night to go for a stroll."

"I know. But I brought you something." She stepped into the center of the courtyard and held out her hand. Moonlight glinted off her hair and the small glass jar in her palm. "It's strawberry."

"Jam?" Something that cost more than liquor or tech. Fresh produce was always at a premium in the sectors, since it had to be lovingly cultivated in dry, scorched earth or shipped in from the rustic communes far beyond the city. "Where in hell did you find this?"

"I have my methods." She wiggled the jar teasingly. "Well, do you want it or not?"

Dallas caught the jar and her hand along with it, folding her fingers under his. "Tell me you had backup, Lex."

"I'm not dense, Dallas."

Dallas, not his given name. Not Declan, the two syllables he only heard from her. Tenderness and rage brought them forth, and it was no wonder he had a hard time separating the two. At least now he knew she wasn't completely pissed. Yet.

He could fix that. "Good. Then I won't take you over my knee for sneaking out."

She stiffened, and a rueful, mocking smile curved her lips. "I almost forgot. Property of Dallas O'Kane, whether I like it or not."

Yes. Not a civilized thought, but this wasn't a civilized world, and he'd never pretended to be a civilized man. Letting his cigarette fall to the ground, he snatched the jar out of her hand and twisted her wrist until the moonlight spilled over her tattoo cuffs with the O'Kane logo. "Damn straight, honey. You and everyone else."

"Me and everyone else," she echoed flatly.

He ran his thumb over the skull etched into her skin. "You regretting taking ink, love?"

"No." She hesitated. "But would it matter if I said yes?"

His blood chilled. "O'Kane for life, isn't that the promise?"

"From the day I first darkened your door." Lex tugged at her hand. "I'm tired. I want to go to bed."

Resisting the urge to ask whose bed, Dallas released her and took a step back. Personal space, it turned out, wasn't optional when it came to Lex and his self-control. "I'll find out when the power's coming back on. We'll need to push Jas and Noelle's party back until it does."

"I'll take care of it." Lex cradled her wrist, rubbing it gently, as if to erase his touch. "I always do, don't I?"

"You always do," he agreed, closing his hand around empty air. The harder he clutched at her, the faster she slipped away. It had always been true, but it had gotten worse since she'd been shot. Money could buy regenerative technology that healed flesh, but nothing could rid him of the image of her bleeding out on the club's stage.

He couldn't stop tightening his fists, even when

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