Page 122 of Scarred Angel

There they are again.

Those three words. Hovering. Waiting.

“Maksim…” I breathe, my voice barely holding together. “Maybe the world will look a little different tomorrow. Buttonight, all I want is you. Make me forget,” I whisper. “Just for tonight.”

“Ptichka, there isn’t a single damn thing you can ask of me that I won’t do.”

I close my eyes as he kisses up my throat, over my chin, then captures my bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently. “Whatever you want…it’s yours.”

“Maybe you should clean up the mess you made.”

Silence. A slow, fiery silence.

Maksim wets his lips and hooks his fingers into my waistband, dragging my pants down my legs. One shoe, then the other. He plucks my black panties off with his teeth and tosses them over his shoulder. They snag on a shrub like some obscene little flag.

“Hey!” I laugh. “I’ll need those eventually.”

“Not where you’re going.”

I tip my head back, laughing harder, and slide my fingers into his hair.

He nips at my inner thigh, then kisses the spot he bit. “You know,” he says quietly, “that night I lost everything, I thought it was the end.” He presses another kiss. “But now I know it was fate…breaking me apart to lead me here to you.”

Emotion swells in my throat, threatening to spill over.

But I don’t want sadness. Not now, when he’s looking at me like that. Because he’s right. Our names were carved in the stars long before we met, long before our story ever began.

I tighten my grip in his hair, a moan slipping free when his tongue drags up my slit.

“Here?” I gasp. “On the side of the road with your mouth on my pussy?”

His laughter vibrates against me, sending a shockwave straight through my core.

I curse into the dark, falling back on the warm hood, my body arching into his mouth. The clouds shift overhead, just barely parting, and through them, a line of stars peeks through.

I grin on a broken moan at the perfect and ridiculous irony.

Finally seeing stars while Maksim eats.

Forty-Eight

VALENTINA

It’s a little crazy to think that Balterra’s death would be the thing to bring Maksim and my dad to some sort of truce. Two men who’d sooner put a bullet through each other than share the same air are now working together to unravel the mystery behind the Architect.

Despite everything, a small smile tugs at my mouth as I watch them interact. They’re not the best of friends. Hell, they may never be but seeing the two men I love most not at each other’s throats is progress.

As their discussion drifts to another corner of the room, I catch Aunt Leni leaning back in her chair, with a drink in hand. She’s unusually quiet, pensive. Her gaze isn’t on them. It’s somewhere far away, as if buried in time.

“Something on your mind?”

Her eyes slide to mine, and she smiles, but the gesture doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I know her too well for that. She’s been like a second mom my whole life—and I love her just as fiercely—but her demeanor, her body language, all scream there’s something she’s not saying.

“What’s on my mind?” she repeats softly, swirling the drink in her hand. “Everything. Mainly keeping you safe, Vali.”

“Don’t lie to me. You never have before.”

Aunt Leni peers at me from the rim of her glass, then finally takes a slow sip. When she sets it down, she stands and extends her hand.