21. Mine

TWENTY-ONE

MINE

CROSS

I might’ve avoided Rolls McIntyre—and the Playground itself—since his impromptu visit to my setup in the back offices, but my oldest friend will still look out for me no matter what.

You know how I know? Because Genevieve isn’t in the Devil’s Playground more than ten minutes before one of the Sinners out on a night off recognizes her as Damien’s sister and immediately tags Rolls. Knowing that her connection to me is infinitely more important, he called me right away to let me know.

He told me what she was wearing: a black-and-white mesh type over her bra, a black booty shorts, black boots. When he added that she had dyed part of her hair pink, I thought he was screwing with me. That sounded so unlike my butterfly, I wondered if she had a secret twin, just like Jimmy Winter did.

And then he sent me a fuzzy camera phone pic. The neons and flashing lights in the Playground made it hard to make out details, but that was undeniably Genevieve.

Fifteen minutes after I got the text, I’ve parked my bike and stalked into the nightclub, searching for her. It doesn’t take long. Very few people inside have the inherent grace that Genevieve does, and I spot her in the middle of the dance floor almost immediately.

She’s not alone.

I’d heard she came through the door with fucking Christopher , but he’s not the one she’s dancing with now. Some toothy blond frat boy is parked behind her, too close for my liking. He’s grinding his cock against her ass, all while Genevieve smiles and dances next to him.

Hell, no.

I don’t stop until I’m inches away from them. This close, I can hear Genevieve’s sweet voice over the bass as she leans in and says matter-of-factly to the wallet: “Did you know that it’s possible to bite a guy’s cock right off?”

I’m stunned. Part of me can’t believe she’s mentioning what she witnessed in Winter’s facility so casually, while another part is stunned to think that she might be bragging about knowing that fact.

Shaking it off, I tap her on her shoulder.

She spins around and I see that she didn’t just paint the tips of her hair with the pink color. She has highlights in the front, framing her face.

My heart nearly stops. She’s that gorgeous—and the way her face goes from flirtatious to furious in an instant has me almost taking a step back to escape her barely concealed anger.

Then I remember what she was doing when I found her, and I move closer . “Your hair.”

She fluffs it out. “You like it?”

Yes . The pink color toward the ends of her golden hair isn’t just attractive, especially to a guy like me who loves to decorate his body. It helps her lose a little of the innocence that used to cling to her when she would wear her ballerina’s hair up and in a bun. Lose and wild and pink … I love it.

I shake my head. “Say goodbye to your friend, Genevieve.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re coming with me.”

Her eyes widen a bit before her lips quirk upward in a secretive little smile, replacing her anger. She doesn’t even turn to look at the man she was both tantalizing and terrorizing, waggling her fingers instead as she moves toward me. “And where exactly do you think you’re taking me?”

Home .

I don’t answer her. Snatching her fingers, clutching them in the heat of my hand, I start to tug her behind me. Not roughly, never roughly, but if I don’t walk away from the man who was attempting to grind up against her, he might lose a couple.

And that’s just for starters.

Clutching Genevieve to me, I wind my way through the crowd. She probably expected me to lead her out through the front door. I don’t. As a Sinner who spends far more time in the Playground than I shoulder, I know all the ins and outs of this place. Within minutes, I’ve brought her to the back alley outside the south side of the Playground.

I see her notice my bike, though if she recognizes that I replaced her white helmet with the pink butterfly on it after the last crash, she doesn’t say anything.

That’s okay. I do.

“What were you doing, talking to one of the wallets about cocks?”

That catches her attention.

Spinning around so she can face me, Genevieve smirks. “That’s nothing. I told one guy that I killed a man. He didn’t stick around to dance long after that. Another one groped my ass. I wasn’t above watching him turn green when I told him the same thing then snapped my teeth at him. You didn’t give me a chance with this one before you hauled me out here.” She pouts. “I didn’t need you help, you know. I can take care of myself.”

The gun goes off .

Noah drops.

Genevieve pales…

“I know that,” I admit. “But you’re on Sinner territory, butterfly. I’m the one who protects you here.”

That was the worst thing I could’ve said.

Her pretty blue eyes turn hard. “Is that how it goes? I’m Dame’s problem on the East End, but if I dare to step off of Dragonfly turf, you’ll get off your high horse enough to act like you give a shit?”

She’s angry. Fiery .

God, I missed her.

I can’t let her see that, though. All those weeks when I stayed away… they would be for nothing if she knew how I really feel. How I’ve been the walking dead without her, and how I dream of that last smile she gave me after we were rescued before waking up to the nightmare of a life without her.

And that’s if I do sleep.

So, instead of coming clean, I do what I do best: I lock my emotions up tight, keeping my expression impassive as I ask her, “What are you doing here?”

Okay. That might’ve been more of a demand, and I gave away too much with it, but I can’t help it.

And then she answers, and any hope of simply sending her on her way and heading back to my empty apartment dies a very quick death.

“Isn’t it obvious? I was a virgin for twenty-five years. Now that I’m not anymore, I found out I like sex. I want to have more of it. And, sure, I know how you feel about my first time, but I don’t lie to you, Cross. You made it worth it. Fuck the cameras. Fuck the people who think they can use it against us?—”

That catches my attention. The second she admitted that she was trolling for some ass had my head roaring and my mouth clamped shut before I said something I couldn’t take back, but when she said that , and I take a step back.

“What did you say?”

“You didn’t know?” When I shake my head, she tells me, “Winter did what he said he would do. They sent that video of us to my brother.”

No wonder Damien warned me away from his sister. I should be lucky he didn’t gut me the second Genevieve was out of sight.

“When?” I rasp out, to see if it was a close shave—or if I need to even more wary of Damien now.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. He didn’t watch it, and one of your guys said it’s as good as erased.”

For Genevieve’s sake, I’m glad to hear that. For mine… my gut twists, and I mutter, “I bet you wish you could forget just as easily.”

“God, you’re such a sorry fucking ass . You know? I thought you were sweet. Sensitive. A real artist-type, ya know? I saw your sad eyes and I wanted to make them happy again. But you… you just like being miserable, don’t you?”

“I don’t like it, butterfly. I’m just used to it.”

The fire of her temper ebbs some. The flames don’t die out completely, they’re still there, but when she speaks again, she gentles her voice. “What happened to your family… what that man did… I won’t ever dare tell you that you need to move on. I never knew my mother. My father was a piece of work. If I lost Damien back in May, I don’t think I’d be here now. But you survived. Cross, you’re here. Don’t you deserve to be happy?”

“What are you doing here tonight, Genevieve? I mean, besides lecturing me.”

I went too far. I know it the second the words leave my mouth. This back and forth had been as flirtatious as it was explosive, but the way Genevieve recoils after I lose control, I have to admit: I fucked up, and there might not be any way of making it right with her.

And then she fists her hands on her hips and snaps, “You want to know? Fine . I’ve got an itch to scratch, and if you don’t want to be the one to take care of it, I’ll find someone who will.”

A vein pulses in my neck. I feel it, and it’s probably due to the way I’m resisting the urge to launch myself at this tempestuous woman and take care of both of our repressed needs.

But I can’t do that, so I just raise my eyebrows and play it fucking cool. “At the Playground?”

“Why not?” she shrugs, drawing my hungry gaze right to the cleavage revealed through her mesh top. “That’s where I found you, isn’t it?”

“Well, tonight I found you.”

“Okay.” Her lips twitch. “What about hate sex? Let’s see. I’ve had pity sex with you once already. Well, you had pity sex with me . At least hate sex would tick another of the boxes I’m dying to try.”

“Oh, butterfly, you need to actually hate someone to have hate sex. And I know you don’t hate me.”

Not the way I hate myself at any rate.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we.” And then, before I can put an end to this, before I can regain my self control and march Genevieve back inside, she does something so reckless… so undeniably fucking hot and reckless… that I admit that this was inevitable from the moment I heard her say the word ‘cock’ in her sweet voice to another man.

I don’t care that she was threatening him in a roundabout way or that it was a throwback to our captivity. I know what she meant?—

—but Genevieve doesn’t know what she’s asking of me.

She wants tonight.

I’ll demand forever.

“I fuck you, this is it, Genevieve. You understand that? I’m not staying away anymore. I tried. God fucking knows, I tried . For you. Because you deserve better than me?—”

“I love you.”

“You just think you do,” I grit out. “Because I was the only one you had to hold onto when we were being held by Winter. I promised to protect you. I did a shit job of it, but I made you believe in me. Of course you think you love me?—”

She slaps me. Not in the face, but in the chest, right between my pecs. “Stop.”

“Genevieve?”

“I said fucking stop , okay? I didn’t want to think you were like my brother. Fuck . You know why I feel for you in the first place? Because you weren’t . You were careful with me, sure, but not because I was Genevieve Libellula. That was because I was your butterfly. But you never acted like you knew better than me. We were friends.” She scoffs. “ Friends . And I was okay with that because you at least treated me like an equal. You didn’t hide me away like Damien does.”

“No. And that’s how you ended up getting taken by Winter.”

“That wasn’t your fault!”

I shake my head.

“Listen to me. Cross? It couldn’t have been. I mean, unless you were in on it. Unless you planned with Winter and those assholes to lock me up?—”

“I would never do that.”

“Of course not! But it sounds crazy that I’d suggest that, right? Well, guess what, genius? It sounds crazy to me when you try to blame yourself for something you didn’t do. You were a victim, too?—”

I turn away from her. And there it is. I’ve always been a victim.

Genevieve marches around me, gripping my chin in her delicate fingers, using more strength that I’d given her credit for to yank my head, jerking it down so that I’m forced to look at her.

“Shitty choice of words on my part. You’re no victim, babe. You’re a survivor. We both are.”

“Babe,” I echo. “I wanted to be your ‘babe’.”

“Yeah, well? You were supposed to be.”

A lump lodges in my throat as I see the fire in Genevieve’s eyes. I swallow it roughly. “Supposed to be?”

Fuck. She’s turned me into a mimic, repeating everything she says. But I can’t help it. ‘Supposed to be’... does that mean she’s given up on me? On us?

I should want that. That’s exactly what I should want to hear. I’m no good for her, and if she wants to pick any man from the Playground’s dance floor and let them into her body—into her heart —then I need to back the hell up and let that happen.

Yeah. No .

“You’re mine,” I grate out. “You want to be fucked? You come to me . No one else. I popped your cherry. You bled on my cock. That pussy belongs to me.”