“Wait.Dates?” Ava all but shouts.
“Plural, yes.” I stroke my fingers over Annika’s heated skin and stare between Remi and Bran. “She’s mine. If I find out either of you touched her, prepare to lose a limb.”
Then I spin her around and my mouth claims hers in a savage kiss. My arms envelop her waist like a shackle, preventing her from escaping my possessive hold. All she can do is gasp, open up, and let me feast on her.
She sways on her feet when I release her lips and I drag her out of the club while the other four stand there in stunned silence.
Annika keeps up with my steps, her expression still caught in complete bewilderment.
“Uh, are you sure that was a good idea—”
“If you’re in the mood to be able to sit at all tomorrow, shut the fuck up.”
Her lips purse and a tinge of both fear and thrill seep into her eyes.
It should only be fear at this point, because my plans for her exceed anything I’ve done before.
18
ANNIKA
This night is the definition of chaos.
It started with me being a little mad.
Well, not mad—upset. A little bit sad, too.
So I went to the club because I was trying my hardest to stop being so upset.
Did it work?
Partially. Okay, no, it didn’t. Not really.
My mood became gloomier after the text exchange, but I danced and drank to forget about it. The icing on the cake was Creighton actually showing up to a club—shocker, I know—to stake a claim on me in public.Again.
My lips still tingle from his punishing kiss, from the way he devoured me whole and left me no room to breathe.
Or think straight.
Or remember that I’m actually slightly wounded by him.
After he gave me coffee to sober up, the car ride has been spent in utter silence. Every time I’ve tried to speak, he casts me a glare, and if I insist, he adds to the ‘punishments’ count.
He reached four before I gave up, crossed my arms, and stared out the window.
Because screw him.
He’s the reason I’ve been in this mood and even needed a venting outlet. I’m simply not going to feel bad about that.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been in Creigh’s Range Rover. He used to drive a Porsche, but a week ago, I complained that it was too small when he told me to sit on his lap, so he changed it two days later.
When I asked him if he had anything to tell me, like maybe he did it for me, the heartless idiot only said, “It’s nothing. This is an old gift from my favorite grandfather, Agnus.”
On good days, Creighton is cold, but on bad days, like today, he’s no different than the ice of the Arctic Ocean.
The car slows to a halt in front of a giant mansion’s gate that resembles my brother’s.
This is the first time I’ve been here, but I can already tell it’s the Elites’ compound.