Baldur growls and this is the most chaotic my life’s ever been and I just want to bury my face into my hands and sob.
“Don’t yell at me!” I plead but it only makes Dacre rage even more.
“How the fuck should I react then?” he snarls and his chest heaves. “That asshole could’ve hurt you. I could’ve come home found you floating in that fucking pool if I hadn’t been here on time.”
“I know,” I whisper and my heart aches. “I’m sorry.”
I cry out in shock when Dacre suddenly lunges at me. My back hits the wall and his arms go to either side of my face. He’s still furious, so angry his body’s trembling and his eyes remind me of a thunder strike.
“You don’t open the door to other men,” he grits between his teeth. “You don’t open your mouth and you sure as fuck don’t open your legs.” His eyes flash. “You’re mine, Greta. Nod if you understand.”
I nod helplessly and moan in surprise when Dacre presses his hard lips against mine. The kiss is ferocious, so demanding I can’t kiss him back and my head lolls. He doesn’t let me get away, cupping my neck and I whimper when his tongue plays in my mouth. It moves like a cobra, hijacking my veins with its venom and I gasp for air, feeling like I’m about to dissolve.
When he pulls away I want to yank him to me but his hooded eyes are still ruthless. Possessive. And...obsessive.
“You’re jealous,” I whisper and the realization makes a quake go off in my body. Dacre tilts his head to the side.
“I’m not jealous, princess,” he whispers back and he puts his mouth to my ear. “I’mmurderous.”
Shivering, I yell when he pulls away, “Where are you going?”
“Drinking,” he snaps before throwing a look over his shoulder. “And you’re staying put until I get home.”
“You can’t order me a...around,” I stutter.
“Can’t I?” Dacre slithers, cocking a brow. “Say hello to your new babysitter.” Snarling an order to Baldure, he yanks the door open and leaves. Baldur watches me with yellow eyes before lying down in front of the door.
I can’t get out. And nobody can get in.
My stepbrother’s just trapped me and I put my fingers to my lips. They’re still tender from the kiss and I rub my thighs together. Dacre feelssomethingfor me. And I feel something for him.
We’re both just as depraved.
And it’s a realization that feels just as exciting as it feels treacherous.
CHAPTER SIX
Dacre
She didn’t want a dead man in the apartment. Which means the streets will have to take him instead.
Her wish is my fucking law it seems.
I’ve tracked down the target, found him after a couple of hours, cowering at the shank of a skanky bar while nursing harsh liquor and trying to calm his nerves. Sitting in the corner and hiding in the dark, I clench my fists from how bad I need to finish him.
I keep seeing his eyes plastered all over Greta’s frame. In that tiny mint green bikini, she looked like a siren and had he gotten his fingers on those straps, I would’ve ignored Greta’s request and finished him there and then.
Shifting in my seat, I sneer at the memory. Thank fuck she gave me her lips right after, otherwise I would’ve drove myself over the edge. I thought I kept her safe up in that penthouse, away from prying eyes and I rub my jaw in annoyance.
Here I thought she only needed protection when walking outside but apparently Greta needs more than that. From now on I’m leaving the damn dog with her whenever I leave. At least then I’ll be able to breathe.
Fixating my gaze on the target, I raise my brows when a woman in higher heels than she can handle walks up to him. She’s wearing a red leather dress and fishnet stockings, clearly the kind who gives her attention to anyone and yet the moron grins as if flattered.
Reaching for the gun by my side, I stroke the barrel, curious to see where this goes. Just like a cheap fuck he doesn’t offer to buy the woman a drink but instead he sloppily gets up. The woman lets out a hyena like laughter and helps to steady him.
Inwardly I snort.
Women.