“I hear good things about that drug. Mate within the first seventy-two hours, and pregnancy is guaranteed.”
My heart leaped in my chest.Breeding.Fuck me, of course that was the goal. I swallowed the knowledge, keen to move my Northern ass out of the alley. The city. This motherfucking state.
“Then I have an interesting night ahead of me.” The throwaway line seemed to appease Lionel.
I made it to the end of the alley without further interruption and headed back toward our apartment, taking several detours. I might not know the source of the drugs, but now I knew its purpose. And Lionel knew plenty. I could circle back to him later.
Right now, I had another goal in mind.
Chapter Five
Lottie
The borrowed sweatshirtI wore that slipped off my shoulder, because it was five sizes too big for me, smelled of mint and soap. It hung mid-thigh, which was a good thing because there wasn’t anything under it. And that scent just matched the green eyes that followed me as I padded around the giant kitchen, clutching my mug of black coffee that scaled my throat with bitter ambrosia syrup.
It was perfect.
So was he.
“Blake,” I tried his name out on my tongue. “And Gray.” The absent brother? Friend? I made up my mind to ask about that later. Not now. “The one who bit me.”
Blake winced. “Yeah. That would be him. I’m sorry about that.”
My hand drifted to the tender spot where the dark giant of a man who had lain between my thighs, his weight braced over me, had sucked on my flesh then sank his teeth into me. Then he had licked that same spot until I lost myself in pure pleasure.
Almost as much pleasure as my first hot drink in weeks. I sipped the scalding liquid taking a perverse amount of delight in the pain that slithered along my throat at the overheated liquid that made its way to my belly.I will never ever have enough of that feeling.Either of them. The heat, or his ... heat.
Blake watched me through wary eyes though they weren’t without heat of their own.
“Are you going to bite me too?” I asked conversationally.
He winced again. “I’m so sorry.” He reached for me, then drew his hand back like I was the scalding liquid he couldn't stand.
For some reason, that thought panged in my chest. I placed the mug on the counter, and rounded the corner where he stood with the wide stone-topped bench between us, removing the barrier. He backed up in a hurry.
I stopped, folding my arms. “I’m sorry. I know a street kid in your house is pretty disgusting.” I mirrored him, retreating a step. Maybe I’d read him wrong.
