Page 26 of Wild Games

He kisses me again, groaning in delight, as I open for him, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

“Finally,” he murmurs, pleased that I’ve yielded to him, that I’m letting him in. One hand drops to cup my breast through my shirt as I rock my hips, and he lifts his weight, shifting his hips back, so I have some room to move. “That’s it.”

“Jax?” I mumble, dragging my free hand down to grip his hair, holding it tightly, as we devour each other.

“Mmm. Yes?” His hand has found its way under my top, sliding across the bare skin of my stomach, his heated palm touching my exposed flesh, leaving his scent like a brand.

With a quick step to the side, I snatch my bejewelled blade from my pocket and press the tip to the underside of his chin and cup his balls in my other hand.

Jax freezes, a string of expletives spilling from his lips, as his eyes return to their normal colour, his arousal quickly being replaced by concern at what I’m going to do next.

“I’m here to work. That’s what I was doing.”

He blinks and nods imperceptibly. I watch as a single red drop of blood rolls down Jax’s chin. Leaning, I brush my lips against his ear and whisper, “And if you ever use our bond to prove a point, or to satisfy your fragile male ego, again, I’ll cut your balls off.”

Jax curses, muttering sorry, but I skip out of reach before turning and marching away from him without a backwardglance, calling just loud enough for him to hear, “And I can pleasure myself just fine.”

12

JAX

Marching down the hallway in the packhouse, I catch a glimpse of my reflection and stop dead in my tracks.

She cut me.

Moving closer to the massive rectangular mirror that hangs on one side, over an expensive antique side table, I tilt my head back to see the tiny nick her knife left in my skin. It’s already healing, but the solitary line of blood that’s run down my neck and into the top of my T-shirt, remains.

I smile, reluctant to wash it out. For some reason, my wolf is proud of her for putting me in my place. I deserved it. Every word she said was spot on. At that moment, I cared more about myself than about how my behaviour was affecting her.

And that’s not what mates do.

Fuck.

Ignoring the concerned looks I’m getting from passersby, I lick my thumb and reluctantly wipe away the proof of her passionate spirit. Most people would think their mate threatening to cut their balls off was a bad thing.

Me? I think it shows that she cares.

“What happened to you?”

I don’t jump, though Dean’s voice does catch me off guard. I grunt, continuing to wipe at the blood.

He leans against the wall beside me, arms crossed, taking in the traces of crimson with raised eyebrows.

“Nothing,” I mutter. “Just trying not to scare our guests.”

“Right.” He shakes his head, about to launch into a lecture, when his nostrils flare slightly, and his forehead creases into a frown. “You smell like Camille, but...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but I know who and what he scents all over me. Her sweet arousal clings to my clothes and my skin, driving my wolf into a frenzy, even through the regret I feel over how I handled things.

The memory of her body pressed against mine, her lips parting under my kiss before she… Her knife flashes through my mind. Even her weapons are pretty. This girl is perfect.

“Is Camille giving you a hard time?” Dean asks carefully, eyeing the way I’m standing, which is awkward, as I try to hide the raging hard-on I can’t seem to get rid of.

“You could say that.”

He opens his mouth, curiosity shining in his eyes, clearly wanting to ask more, then seems to think better of it. “I don’t think I want to know.”

But he does. I know he does, because I would.