didn’t care if it cost fifty grand. Personally, I thought it was stupid to drop that much on whiskey when people worked their asses off just to make enough to live day-by-day. He and I wouldn’t be friends under normal circumstances, I realized.
I had spent hours one day watching people stand in line at a check-cashing place. They were exhausted from long hours of working tirelessly. Yet there they were, standing in line for a payday loan just to be able to afford things for their families.
I’d added money to accounts of strangers, paying off layaways for school or Christmas with the checks that were wasting away in my account from E.V.I.E. since I needed very little to maintain my lifestyle. It was something I could do to give back, and, well, the animal shelters only accepted so many donations before they started to think I was obsessed with them, as most were run by men around Seattle.
“This is where you start to hate me, and it gets tediously awkward,” Rhys sighed.
“I don’t hate you,” I admitted, lifting my eyes to his, which were narrowed on me as if he didn’t like my answer. “What happened was because both sides made mistakes. I wasn’t there so I can’t say who was wrong, but I know our bloodline has a lot of hotheads because I am one of them. Do I think you’re faultless? No, because there are always two sides in every war throughout history. And on each side, there are always two varying beliefs on who is right and who is wrong.”
“For someone so young, Remi, you think beyond your tender years. Your leg is bruising,” he stated, not looking away from me.
I looked at my thigh, and I scrunched up my nose. “Perk of being mortal and fair-skinned. I bruise easily. A perk of being me. I don’t feel it, not much anyway. You could kiss it, though, make it better for me?” I laughed only to have it get stuck in my throat as I gazed up, finding him smirking devilishly. “That was a joke.”
“That isn’t where I want to kiss you, Remi.”
“Where do you want to kiss me?”
His lips turned up at the corners, and heat filled his pretty eyes. “I want to push you down on this broken bed, spread your legs apart, and devour your pussy until you come for me.”
“You want to kiss my pussy?” I asked in a high-pitched tone as my nipples hardened and my body heated.
His smile turned blinding, and his head tilted slightly to the side, staring at my erect nipples through the white nightgown that hid very little. Butterflies exploded in my belly as he leaned closer, brushing his mouth against the shell of my ear.
“No, I want to fucking devour your pussy until you drip down my chin because you come so fucking hard that you’re soaked with arousal. Would you like that, Remi?” he asked, and in the same breath, he asked, “care for another drink, Love?”
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“Yes, to me devouring your pussy, or yes to a drink? Or both?”
“Drink me.” My eyes rounded in horror as what I said echoed in my ears. “Pussy my whiskey—oh my God, shut up, Remi!” I groaned, covering my face.
“I’m willing to drink my whiskey from your pussy, if you’re game.”
“Pour me another drink, Rhys, and stop taunting me. You’re flustering me on purpose.”
“I enjoy your blushes, Love. Not many women I know still blush or grow flustered when I speak to them. Let me enjoy it.”
“Do you often ask women to drink from their vaginas?” I asked, feeling as though he’d dunked my head in a bucket of ice, forgetting to add the water first.
“Actually, no,” he said huskily. “That’s a new one for me. Surprising, considering my age and the fact that your bloodline cursed me to fuck to feed. Hungry? I’m starving.”
“Make that drink a double,” I whispered while swallowing down my embarrassment mixed with desire. Rhys’s lips tipped up, and his attention dropped to where my body physically clenched under the intensity burning in his eyes. “This is going to be the longest night of my entire life. You should probably know that I’ve never slept beside anyone before, other than my mother. So I might snore, drool, or even kick in my sleep.”
He poured the whiskey before scooting back against the headboard which was attached to the wall for decoration. Following him carefully while trying not to soak the mattress in whiskey, I