“You’re dead.” The drunk sneers.
The chick squats down and snatches up the half broken bottle. She throws a quick glance over her shoulder, probably to look for an exit strategy. That’s the moment we lock eyes. The corner of her mouth tips up in a smile, as if she fucking sees me. Sliding her eyes slightly down, she eyes the right side of my cut where it states ‘Death By Reaper MC’.
Os slaps the back of his hand against my pecs. “Dude. Are you visible right now? ‘Cause I swear it seems as if she’s looking right at you.”
“Now you’ve done it.” Her voice is like a gentle caress when she talks to the drunk. “The reapers are coming for you,” she adds in a fucking sing-song voice.
“What the fuck? She knows what we are?” I growl. “How the hell…”
I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence because the drunk lunges forward. Before I can reach the chick, she sidesteps and kicks him in the back, making him face plant into the pavement.
The chick throws the crushed bottle she’s holding against the wall. “You two can handle this further, right? I have a train to catch.”
What the? “Os, reap the drunk’s soul,” I order before I catch up with the woman who’s hightailing it out of here and heading for the platform.
With her next breath, I’ve got her pinned against the wall with my body, blocking her every exit strategy. My nose trails a path down the curve of her neck. The hoodie she’s wearing over her head falls down, exposing her neck some more. Underneath her skin I can clearly see a vein where her heartbeat picks up speed. My fangs elongate and my mouth waters from her incredible sweet scent as I nuzzle her neck.
I just can’t help myself, it’s like an automatic craving that has been triggered. It seems to be the same way for her because her lower body arches forward in the limited space she has. This chick shivers in my grip and with that releases a turmoil of emotion inside me. Reaching the spot where her neck meets her collarbone, I have no control over what happens next.
Her head tilts, a submissive gesture, as if she’s granting me permission; offering herself to me. A true mate is one in a million, a connection that’s mutual, a pull you will only feel once in your life and know the second it hits. And it’s hitting me now, full force.