Page 57 of Graveyards & Greed
I melted into him and decided that for as long as this lasted between us, I was going to revel in Drakos Creed. It might even be worth the heartbreak and hangover when it was all over.
“Do you want me to fuck you against the wall or bend you over the bed?” he murmured.
“Both,” I panted.
Groaning low in his throat, he rubbed his thick, rigid cock against my center. Then he took me hard against the wall, and even harder over the side of the bed. We skipped dinner altogether that night.
Early the next morning, Drakos’s phone rang on the nightstand. He rolled over me and reached for it.
“Yeah?” he murmured, then paused and listened.
“Any issues?” Another pause.
“Good.” And then he hung up.
As he leaned over me to put his phone back on the nightstand, I reached out and grasped his arm. “Who was that?” I croaked.
He rolled on top of me and nestled himself between my thighs. “Gideon. He called to let me know Terrance LeBaron’s newly renovated, five-bedroom cabin in Mt. Charleston just blew up. Apparently, there was a propane leak. LeBaron should be getting a video of the explosion from an untraceable number in about two minutes.”
“You move fast.” Suddenly, I was wide awake.
“When it’s something I want. Let me give you a proper demonstration.” He leaned in and bit my lower lip.
“Yes, please,” I murmured against his mouth.
The next few days were uneventful and mostly quiet, but it felt like an eerie calm before a storm. On Saturday morning, Drakos and I puttered around my small kitchen, drinking coffee and lazily making breakfast together. Neither of us had to work, and a happy little hum buzzed through me.
“You have an interesting collection of coffee mugs,” he mused, holding one that readBring Out Your Deadin a gothic script. I pulled one out of the cupboard with the wordsYeah, but did you die?in cheery red letters. “My family thinks it’s hilarious to give me death and mortuary-related mugs.”
He tilted his head. “How many do you have?”
I pointed to the top shelf above the fridge. “See for yourself.”
Setting his mug down, he reached up and opened the high cupboard. At least thirty novelty mugs were crammed inside.
He whistled. “Do you know how many there are?”
“No idea.”
Drakos grinned, his blue eyes glinting as he surveyed my collection. “Now I know whatnotto buy you for your birthday.” He raised his cup in a toast.
“You should see my t-shirt collection,” I muttered, pointing to the black tank top I wore that readI’d rather be at a funeral.
My cell phone rang as I pulled out bagels, the sound slicing through our domestic bubble. I checked the screen and noticed Trina, Camilla’s grandmother, calling me. Worry and anxiety hit me. The last time she’d called, her fifteen-year-old granddaughter had just been raped.
“Trina? Is everything okay?”
“Dios! Sylvie, they're here. Those men who ride motorcycles in their black vests. They're asking my neighbors which apartment is mine! Ernesto from the first floor just texted me.” Her voice was a high-pitched whisper teetering on hysteria.
Shit, shit, shit! “Are you safe? Is Camilla with you?”
“She’s locked in the bathroom. They're knocking on doors.”
“Call the police, turn off the lights, and stay put. I'm on my way.” My heart hammered as I ended the call.
Drakos eyed me. “What’s going on?” His tone had shifted from playful to predator in a heartbeat.
Turning, I ran to my bedroom, calling over my shoulder as I went. “Bikers are at Trina's apartment complex, knocking on doors and asking about her. She's terrified, and Camilla’s already been through too much. Fuck!” He’d followed me in and went to his suitcase.
