Lord of Chaos (The Dragon Demigods #7) - Charlene Hartnady Page 0,6
huge. They’re a light brown, reminding me of caramel or thick, dark honey.
She looks my way. Our eyes lock. My dick takes note.
Hello!
I can’t remember the last time anything or anyone turned me on so hard and so fast. She looks down and takes a step away from the bar.
Holy fuck! She isn’t wearing any shoes. Not a great idea in a place like this. I’m intrigued! I’m taking serious note.
I take a sip of my drink, the liquid is smooth and delicious. I find it interesting that the most beautiful woman in the room is almost completely covered. I can’t see any of her assets. I like that a whole hell of a lot. I’m almost positive she’s naked underneath the shirt. Sexy as fuck!
My balls tighten. I want her! A couple starts to approach her, but she stops them in their tracks with a look. Oh yes, I think she’ll do nicely.
I watch with growing interest as a shirtless guy approaches her. He has a good physique and would probably be considered to be attractive to humans. She gives him the look, but he is either an idiot or thick-skinned. Maybe both.
He offers her a drink.
She shakes her head.
He gives her some line that might work on women in general but not on her.
“Not interested!” Holy shit! My dick lurches in my pants. She has an accent. I didn’t think an accent would turn me on, but it does. A whole fucking lot. I note that she didn’t raise her voice, even though I think she’s angry. There’s fire in her eyes. I almost feel sorry for the guy.
He starts to say something, but she shakes her head. “Go away!” she says, her voice clear. Her accent, thick. I still can’t quite place it. It’s not British. Maybe Irish?
I feel my lip twitch as the guy gives up and walks away. He doesn’t look happy.
I take a sip of my drink, downing half of what’s left. I feel nervous. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. “Fuck it,” I mutter as I walk over to her.
She keeps her eyes on the dancefloor.
“I’m Rage,” I say, the words falling from my lips before I can stop them. I never give my real name. Not ever. It’s too late now.
She levels a cool stare at me but doesn’t say anything.
“Do you have a name?” I sound pushy even though I don’t mean to. I’m never pushy. It’s not a good idea since a woman like this will tell me what to do with myself quicker than I can take my next breath. I need to watch how I tread.
“I have several, actually.” She looks back at the dancefloor.
I frown. “Several…how is that possible?” I suppose she could have a second name…and a third, maybe? Perhaps she’s talking about nicknames.
“How is that possible?” she says. “I would ask myself the same, and yet, it’s the truth.” She doesn’t look my way. The look of sheer boredom is back. I want her more than I did a minute ago. Up close, she’s even more beautiful. She might look like she just got out of bed, like she was just fucked hard, but I can’t smell sex on her. I find that I want to ask her a whole lot of questions, almost more than I want to rip the shirt off.
“How about your God-given name? We could start with that one.” I shrug.
“My God-given…name.” She smiles. Fuck, but she’s beautiful. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Any of your names, then.”
Her eyes blaze. “Most of them are not very…shall we say, nice.”
I frown. It makes no sense. Also, I’ve never had to work so hard to get a woman’s name before. “We don’t need to do names.” I shrug.
“Don’t we, Rage?” She lifts her brows, looking at me like something the cat dragged in. “I think it’s a little late for that.”
True. She knows my name already.
“Where are you from?” I ask. “You have an accent.”
“How observant of you.”
“No, really, where are you from? At least give the name of the country. Is it Ireland?” I know I’m wrong as soon as I say it.
“Wales,” she says as her eyes scan the club. “My turn to ask a question. Why do you come here?” She turns her honeyed irises on me. Her stare is intense. Her jaw tight. She looks pissed off. It doesn’t make sense. Why would she be angry? We don’t know