Page 145 of Carved Obsession

Carter

Six months later

“So? What do you think?” Scarlet claps her hands, bouncing on her feet as glee sparkles in her coffee-colored eyes.

Arms crossed against my chest, I cock my head and take a step back. I inspect the giant triceratops skeleton sitting proudly in the middle of my church, as if I hadn’t made up my mind months ago, long before the fossil stepped foot in here. I know now that I would agree to anything as long as it puts that mesmerizing glint in her eyes.

“You have to admit, it looks amazing! The stained-glass rainbow of colors bouncing off of it, the way it fills all this empty space perfectly, fitting in with everything old you have around here...Come ooon. Please like it.” Her bratty moan stirs my cock beneath my trousers.

With a deep sigh pumping my chest, I step next to her, eyes trained on the dinosaur. “I think it—”

“You like it!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I will not accept any negativity toward Tabitha, so I’ll make up your mind for you.”

She crosses her arms against her ribs, distracting me with the cleavage spilling from the deep V-neck of her dress.

“Is that so, kitten?” I step into her space, dropping my head as she cranes hers, meeting her defiant gaze.

“Yep. It’s decided.”

I tangle my fingers in her hair and hold her firmly as my lips meet hers. Swiping my tongue over their seam, I demand entrance. She moans softly into my mouth, arms unfolding as she grips my sides and aligns her body with mine.

I break the kiss with soft, peppered pecks and feed on the hum of satisfaction vibrating low in her throat.

“You do like it,” she murmurs.

When I pull back, she’s all smiles. Victorious, with a hint of lust woven through.

“I think it fits perfectly.”

She bounces up and down like an excited little pixie, the strands of dark-green she dyed on the underside of her brown hair flowing around her pale skin.

“Shall we go?” I reach for her hand.

“Hell yeah! Are you excited?”

“Intrigued, I think.”

“Intrigued?”

I nod as we head out, hand in hand. I’m not entirely sure what I feel about our new speakeasy. Maybe the memories of Midnight are holding me back. If I ever cared for an inanimate thing, that was it.

It’s no longer burned to a crisp. The building has undergone consolidation work, and renovations are on the last stretch. But Midnight and The Fightclub are gone—officially, due to a gas leak. We’re keeping the space for the apartments our people live in, and everything else will be training space.

“I bet you’re a little happy that you’re doing this in the building Duval snatched from you all those years ago,” she says.

I lock the heavy wooden door and head to the dark SUV parked right up front. She climbs up when I open the door and offer her my hand, and then I walk around, mulling over those words.

“I am. Funny how things come around.”

She snickers as we set off through the wrought iron gates and ease onto the streets of Queenscove.

That building put him on our radar. He was supposed to be a rising-star politician, all straight and rigid. But he was just another criminal in disguise.

Now that he’s dead, with no heirs or wife, his estate went on sale and the old Duke’s Lodge is ours. It’s just off the main boulevard that cuts through the city, on a parallel street to Loreley’s building, where she and Morrigan have Metamorphosis. Right behind them, actually; only a small alley separates our back gardens and parking lots.