When she’s around, I feel things I’ve never experienced before.
Any emotion aside from bloodlust is new and foreign to me.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been attracted to anyone before—male or female. When Aphrodite put on her little show for me and my brothers, I didn’t feel even an inkling of lust.
Only annoyance that the bitch was making a mess of my bedsheets.
But now, with Thea, I can’t think of anything else.
I want to know every thought in her pretty head.
Every desire.
Every wish and fear and hope.
My need for her is borderline obsessive.
I bite down on my lower lip as the sound of the shower starts up.
Fuck, I’m hard as steel. All I can think about is her standing beneath the spray of water, soap bubbling on her golden skin as she cleans herself.
Everett glances towards the bathroom with a pained expression, his cock tenting his loose basketball pants.
“Fuck.” He scrubs a hand through his sandy hair. “I’m going to do a perimeter sweep. Can you watch her?”
I wonder if he would ask such a thing if he knew my thoughts. Every one of them is dark and depraved, and they’re all centered around her.
But of course, he doesn’t suspect the true extent of my obsession. How could he, when I’ve never behaved like this with anyone before?
I can tell Krystian and Zaid are wary of me and my intentions, and they would be right to worry.
I’m goddamn insane, and everything about Thea—from her scent, to her voice, to her lilting laugh, to her sweet giggles—makes me lose my mind even more.
Why her?
Is it because she’s beautiful?
Is it because her story calls to the fucked-up, broken part of me?
I know what it’s like to feel trapped and isolated. To feel alone and misunderstood.
My little bird has been trapped in a cage for an eternity, and now that she’s free, I want to trap her again.
To me.
Once she’s mine, I’ll never let her go.
A cry erupts from the bathroom, and I’m moving before my brain can catch up, kicking the door open.
I freeze, every coherent thought—and there are not a lot to begin with—leaving me.
Fuck.
Thea stands in the shower, the curtain wide open, as if she didn’t know she was supposed to shut it ahead of time. Water seeps onto the floor in a steady stream, flooding the room.
Fire scorches my throat as I take in the beauty standing before me.
She’s naked. Of course she is. Who would take a shower fully clothed?
