Fracture (Blood & Roses #3-4) - Callie Hart Page 0,1

me as though I’m crazy. With a slow and measured movement he cranes his neck forward again, widening his eyes at me. “I don’t fucking care about your box.”

Oh, Andreas. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“Okay, fair enough. I guess we’re only wasting time, anyway. It’s black, it’s small, it’s whatever. The most important thing about this box,” I say, shaking it from side to side again, “is that right now it’s closed. It has something inside it that I want. Just like you. You have something inside of you that I want, Andreas. And just like this box, I’m going to open you up and reach in and take it.”

I lift the lid properly this time, wide enough that he can see inside, and I remove a single, slim piece of metal. A paperclip. Andreas’s eyes go round.

“You’re fucking crazy, pendejo. Everybody knows it,” he hisses.

I snap the lid closed again and tuck the box into the pocket of my jacket. I hold up the single paperclip I took out so he can watch what I’m doing. “I’m not crazy, Andreas. Crazy people aren’t rational. I’m very rational, and right now this situation you find yourself in is a rational one, too. You tell me where my guy is, and I won’t shove this piece of metal underneath your fingernail. And as a result, I won’t have to keep getting more paperclips from my box to use on your other fingers until you tell me. Doesn’t that sound entirely logical to you?”

Andreas looks a little lost, like he’s anticipated the pain and already seen himself crumble. “Fuck you, man. This is about loyalty.”

“This is not about loyalty. There’s no such thing.”

“Bullshit. You wouldn’t be here threatening me otherwise. You’re loyal to that English motherfucker, and I’m loyal to Julio.”

I shake my head, tutting. “Loyalty is another word for stupidity, Andreas. Dogs are loyal. You kick a loyal dog and it cowers at your feet, dreaming of a way to get back into your good graces. Kick me and I’ll bite your fucking hand off.”

He falters. “You’re not here to protect Charlie?”

I shove my face in his, baring my teeth. “I’m protecting myself. And if you’re smart you’ll start doing the same.”

I can’t breathe. I can barely keep my legs straight. Barely concentrate on my surroundings as Zeth growls into my ear. “Then you’d better get talking.”

I have my cell phone jammed up against my ear and Pippa is rambling away on the other end, entirely oblivious to the fact that a dangerous, impossibly sexy, impossibly cruel man has two of his fingers inside me. He works his thumb over the swollen bud of my clitoris, smirking with a look of dark pleasure that sends vibrations through my whole body.

“Pippa, hi…I…I need to ask you a favor.”

“A favor? For my favorite girl? Sure, hon, shoot.”

Zeth draws his fingers out of me and slides them over my pussy, grinning when I twitch. “I need you to see someone for me.”

“Like a patient?”

“Like someone who wants to ask you a few questions before you see the—ah!—the patient.”

“Are you okay, Sloane? You sound like you’re trying to do yoga and failing again.”

Zeth gently squeezes the tiny knot of nerves that make up my clit, grinning mercilessly. He switches out his hands and begins stroking me with his left, bringing his right up to his mouth. He slowly slides his fingers into his mouth, piercing me with his gaze the whole time, sucking them clean. Embarrassment floods me, swiftly followed by a crescendo of desire that takes me by surprise. Every single experience I’ve had with this guy has involved him going down on me or tasting me in some way. As a fairly introverted person, the prospect of someone enjoying the way that I taste is a ridiculous one, but there’s no denying Zeth’s addiction here. He leans into me pressing his chest against mine, and my heart stumbles in my chest. He’s going to kiss me. He’s actually going to kiss me…

But at the last moment he angles his head, like he’s caught himself about to do something unwise, and nips with his teeth at my jawline.

“Sloane? Sloane, do you need to call me back?”

“Uhhhh….may…maybe.”

Zeth palms my breast through my T-shirt, squeezing painfully. He shakes his head, tutting. “Don’t be a bad girl,” he whispers.

I am instantly filled with the urge to please him. “I just need you to meet this guy, Pip. He wants to ask you some questions before he sends