Entangled

by Olivia Stocum

  “It’s only money.”

  Be calm Kendra. People are watching. Yes, all three of them are watching you act like an idiot.

  She broke into hysterics anyway, Alessandro taking her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” she panted. “I couldn’t feel you at all, and then I panicked, and I didn’t know if you were coming.”

  “Outside,” he whispered into her hair, taking her bag. He led her into the parking lot. He was warm and she snuggled into him for comfort even though she didn’t like that he’d fed without her. “You’ve fed,” she said.

  “Yes, I had to.” He pulled her behind the building. It was ancient, made of stone. He drew her into the shadows.

  She was shaking. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

  “No, it’s me, habibti. You’re going to be okay.”

  “You’ve fed. I can’t sense you. I’m freaking out again, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

  “That’s because you can’t stop it. You are sensing me. You always do this when I want you.”

  She did, yes. Every time.

  “It’s still intense,” she breathed.

  “You’re still part of me.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her, Kendra melting into him. He smelled so good, pheromones and Egyptian musk—was hard and firm and warm and making her groan.

  “I’m sorry it has to be like this,” he mouthed.

  “Not sorry. I’m not sorry.” She kissed him again.

  “I need to get you out of here,” he said, taking her hand to lead her away.

  “No.” She resisted.

  His brow furrowed, honey eyes searched hers. Kendra brought all of her hair over one shoulder, exposing her scars to him. He shook his head but his hand lifted at the same time, to brush his fingers over her throat. His breaths changed, were hard like hers. Alessandro caught her up with his other arm.

  Put me out of my misery. “The planes,” she rasped. “No one will hear us.”

  He looked to where a jet was warming, turned back to her. She could see the mix of desperation and disgust in his eyes, as if to say, yes, I want you that badly, but how can I do this here?

  She lifted her chin to him. “Take what you need.”

  “You tempt me again?”

  “I don’t think I have any choice.”

  He shook his head once, then groaning, closed in on her. His lips worked over her jaw, down her neck. He pressed them hotly against her scars. Her need pulsed behind her eyelids, called out with every beat that brought her blood pounding through her veins, screaming at him—she knew—drink me.

  His fangs grazed her neck, found the raised skin of her scars. With a pinch, he slid into her. Kendra screamed, jerking once in his arms.

  Melting—bliss—down her body, through her limbs. She collapsed helplessly against him and he cradled her as if she were made of glass.

  He drank.

  And she knew then, more than ever, that she was taking fate by the hand.

  The End

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