After the war, London is in chaos.
Packs are battling it out for dominance in the streets, lycans are killing each other in illegal fight dens. The Royals are being murdered.
All Juliet wants to do is forget - forget Sebastien, forget the wa...
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My heart tripped in shock as I stared at his silhouette in the doorway.
For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. Hoped I was hallucinating. There was no way that fate would be that cruel — that he, of all people, would be the one to witness the most humiliating moment of my life.
My insides suddenly cramped, pain tearing through me, and I doubled over with a gasp. Feverish didn't even begin to describe my current state; I was burning up like a furnace, the heat radiating from between my legs like a beacon to anyone with a functioning libido. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the heel of my bloody hand against my core, whimpering as a shock of dual pain and arousal shuddered through me.
It wasn't enough.
Nothing was enough.
"Are you fucking insane?" I heard him shout, his voice rough with anger. "Ash's men are still out there looking for you and you come here?"
My eyes flashed open as he stepped forward, his face illuminated in shades of blue and green as he passed the shelves of supernatural liquor. The smell hit me first: warm and earthy, tinged with metallic — but it was laced with the familiar scent of blood, and that was when I realised his lip was split and his eyes blazed with more than just anger.
He's been in a fight.
And then I remembered the chaos I'd caused only minutes earlier in my haste to get away from that lycan stranger — had he gotten tangled up in that? An image of him ripping into some faceless lycan raced through my head; his teeth bared menacingly, his muscular body braced for a fight as he lunged —
The heat that shot through me was pure agony.
I grimaced, my teeth sinking deep into my own lip as I smothered a cry and pressed my hand hard against my clit. I was hovering on the very edge of a horrifically violent orgasm; my blood sizzled with the force of it, my aching inner muscles clamouring to just let go while the knowledge that all that awaited me on the other side was more pain than I could bear held me back.
But it was so hard to listen to that little voice of reason when his smell filled my nostrils, when all I could think about was his hands on me, his body in me, and I hated it, I hated him, hated that I had memories to compound on the fantasies my stupid fever dreamed up. Once more stealing parts of me that weren't his, that should never have been his, and yet...
"Are you fucking suicidal?" he was still shouting.
Anger surged through me, but it was so hard to cling to in the wake of the devastation ripping through my body. "I had nowhere else to go," I panted. "I have nowhere..." I grimaced as another wave of heat swelled between my legs, blisteringly hot, almost tipping me over the edge. "Shit."
He let out an exasperated growl, the sound rumbling over the noise of the riot outside. "Shit, Juliet, you stupid —" he growled. "You know should have gone back to him."
