“No,” I agreed. “But when I tell you what happened this morning, you might see the humor.” I let the words roll off of my tongue. A tongue that still tasted like her. “Marina and I kissed.”
Lifting his head, Kite looked down his nose at me. “You kissed her, or she kissed you?”
“Does it matter?”
Kite grabbed the wheel and squeezed. “I guess not.”
My smile was brittle. “So now what?”
“What the fuck do you mean, now what?” Kite was fidgeting, unable to decide if he wanted to hit something or freeze in place. I knew the feeling. “You're telling me you want her, right? Unless you kissed her because you were curious if she'd have a damn heart attack and drop dead.”
Remembering the softness of her mouth, how it yielded to my roughness, I shivered. “No. I kissed her because I felt like it. Yes, I want her. I also don't plan to fight with you over her.” Pointedly, I faced him in the car. “You understand what I'm saying.”
He flicked his stare from my face, to his fists. Kite was in deep thought, trying to weigh what he wanted from Marina with what I wanted from her. In a way, I knew what he would say. After all, our bond was stronger than law or logic. We did everything for each other.
We always had.
Setting his jaw, he offered his hand to me. It stayed in the air, waiting for mine. “I want her. You want her. That means we both get to have Marina...”
“Or neither of us does,” I finished. Clasping his palm, I crushed it tight. The tendons in my forearms flexed with the briskness of the handshake.
Kite and I, we'd seen things—done things—that no one knew of. Just us, a pair of wretched creatures who would kill to live and murder to succeed. We were not good people.
We were never under the illusion that we were.
This moment shot home the memory of our first oath; how we had become Blood Brothers, and how we would always choose what was best for both of us.
Greed led to tragedy and betrayal.
Neither of us would let that happen.
“We share her,” I said flatly.
“We share her.” Kite's eyes were brooding, but they flashed when he smiled. “It wouldn't be the first time.”
Chuckling, I let him go and leaned away. “No. I guess it wouldn't.” Thinking of the other women who had agreed to our rules, it brought a film of distaste. For so many reasons, there'd never been a woman who could keep up with us.
Would Marina be the first?
That girl with her tempting hips and perceptive eyes, she had no clue what we had in store for her.
In more ways than one, I felt in my heart that we would destroy her.
And I didn't care.
If it meant I got to taste her again...
I didn't care at all.
- Chapter 13 -
Marina
––––––––
Three days had passed since he had kissed me.
Three fucking days.
Yes, I'd been counting.
Normally this is where you're supposed to wax poetically about the man in your life. Stare in the mirror and into your own eyes. Phrases should pop up like, 'Oh, he's so lovely!' Or perhaps, 'I wonder what our kids would look like?'
Peeling back my lower lip, I stared at where Jacob had bitten me and wondered...
Will next time be worse?
The scab had healed already. He'd done just enough damage to make me bleed. Enough to make me question when my sanity had driven over a cliff.
Splashing water on my face, I gripped the sink and looked closer at the red ribbons in my eyes. Sleep had been elusive. Jacob wasn't entirely responsible for that part.
In less than twelve hours of each other, two different men—two extremely dangerous men—had both buried their mouths on mine. Was this how life worked? You go without kissing someone for years and then, boom, fate throws all of your missed opportunities at you at once?
The mirror was cool on my forehead. Water dripped from my cheek, splattering in the drain. This whole situation was fucked. I needed to focus.
The point of being around Jacob and Kite, my hired hitmen, was to plot vengeance. They were supposed to teach me how to reach my target, and then how to murder him. Boom.
Simple.
Why did they have to screw everything up?
Tapping my cheeks, I sighed. My anxiety would vanish if I could just talk to one of them about how I was feeling. Granted, I didn't know how I felt—not exactly.
If I said to them, 'Hey, this is a business deal. Nothing sexual is allowed,' would I prefer they agree with me? Or if they did, would that dig a knife into my guts?
This thick tension was a recipe for disaster. It had to be removed... but bringing this stuff up wasn't easy.
Kite had done his best to avoid me, which was astounding since we lived together. He kept slipping off to his bar, the Corner Velvet. Or going for runs at odd hours. Or just sitting there, awkwardly, doing that thing where he'd stare at me as if I couldn't tell he was doing it—only to glance away the instant I turned.
And Jacob?
Three days. Literally, three days since he'd kissed me, and since I'd last seen him.