Chapter Eighteen: Laina

Days went by, and Kieran showed no signs of waking up yet. The doctors had operated on him, got the bullet out, but the bullet did some damage to a few organs. It wasn’t a cut and dry wound. Even if he woke up tomorrow, he’d have to let himself heal and probably do physical therapy to strengthen his core muscles again.

Kelly came over once, mostly because she was nosy about the shooting—which was fine. If I was her, I’d be nosey, too. She invited me to come visit her on campus. She said she’d take me to all of her classes as a guest, if I wanted, and that we could go to a frat party to forget about the little fact that someone had been trying to kill me and shot Kieran instead.

It wasn’t the time to tour campus, but… it might be easy to blend in at a frat party.

Tessa and my dad were gone a lot. The gunman wasn’t talking; we didn’t know who he was working for. My dad spent a lot of time in the office or with the police, trying to interrogate him; a perk of being the mayor in a corrupt city. Tessa… I wasn’t sure where she disappeared to.

That left me alone with Mike. A lot.

After what happened that night, Mike kept his distance from me. I think he was trying to forget what happened, act like the bodyguard he was supposed to be and not someone who’d taken off my clothes and looked down at my naked body with a ravenous glint in his eyes.

You know, not someone who’d gone down on me.

I found it a little annoying, frankly, and it was because of how annoying it was that I decided I would, in fact, like to go to a party this weekend with Kelly.

But, first thing was first: it was time to pay Fang a visit. I supposed I could’ve messaged him or called him to ask if he had anything for me, but a part of me wanted to see him again. That silver-fanged man intrigued me, and his face popped into my head often.

Hmm. Maybe I had a thing for slightly older men. Kieran, Mike, Fang; they were all older. Kieran was the closest at nine years above me, while Mike and Fang were a few years older than that.

Yeah, you could say I’d definitely come out of my kidnapping with a type.

It was just after lunch when I got ready to go. I changed into black leggings and a soft, fuzzy pink shirt that went well with my hair. I chose a pair of flats and slipped them on while Mike watched me from the doorway. He’d done his best to not step foot in my room lately.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. He didn’t need to specify why I should be thinking harder about going to see Fang. The big one: it wasn’t safe. But I’d argue nowhere was truly safe in this city, and I’d be damned if I kept myself locked up in this house just because someone wanted to kill me.

Let them. Let them try. I wasn’t going to play prisoner any more.

“Fang said he’d have something for me in about week, and it’s been a little more than that.” I stretched, letting my gaze fall to my left hand. Every day that passed, the wound looked better, the scab grew smaller. The skin was healing. “I’m dying to see what he has—although maybe dying isn’t a word I should use.”

All Mike did was let out a sigh as I passed him to get into the hall. He followed as I went down the stairs, and then he went to grab his keys, probably knowing he’d never convince me not to go.

Mike was the first to walk out of the door, but right after he opened it and took a step out, he stopped, which made me walk face-first into his back. Let’s just say Mike was like a mountain. Walking into him was a little painful.

He bent down to pick something up, a small box, and he read the label. “It’s for you.” He handed it to me.

I wasn’t… wait a damn second. When I saw what company had sent me the package, I squealed. “I’ve been waiting for these. Wait right here.” I spun and ran into the kitchen to grab a knife, opening the small box, and then I hurried upstairs to my bathroom. With the box on the counter near the sink, I pulled out a single smaller box from within.

These were something I’d been waiting for, that, in the commotion of life lately, I’d completely forgotten about. I’d ordered them the same day I got my hair done, wanting a brand-new look.

Colored contacts.

Of course, as I opened them and tried to put them on, I realized I wasn’t very comfortable putting something in my eye. I didn’t have glasses or contacts to begin with, so it was a new experience all around for me.

Let’s just say there was a lot of swearing. It was a good thing Mike was downstairs, otherwise he might’ve thought a sailor had switched places with me. I didn’t think I’d ever cussed more in my entire life, not even when I’d been kidnapped.

After a lot of trial and error—mostly error on my part—I managed to get them in, and I blinked a few times, getting used to the feeling of them on my eyes. Taking a step back, I shifted my gaze to the mirror, momentarily stunned at the reflection staring back at me.

The contacts were a beautiful soft pink, definitely on the unnatural side, but that was to be expected with the color. With the pink and blue hair, the look was complete. I looked like a completely different person, a Barbie doll, save for the small cut along my jawline, where I’d cut myself. The injury had healed since it was only a surface wound, and you got real close, you didn’t notice it.

Oh, this was going to piss my dad and Tessa off so much. I couldn’t wait.

I practically skipped out of the bathroom, hurrying to return to Mike. We’d have to stop by a drugstore on the way home and pick up some contact solution; the instructions said I could sleep in these, but I’d rather not.

By the time I reached Mike in the front vestibule, I was grinning like an idiot. I gazed up at him, waiting.

His brown brows lifted, and it was a while before he muttered, “That’s… a choice.”

“You don’t like them?” I asked, my smile wavering. It shouldn’t matter if he liked them or not; I’d chosen them. It was all me. If I wanted them and was happy with them, that’s all that should matter.

“I think they suit you” was what he said. “They distract from your devious side.” He turned away from me, car keys in his hand, and walked out the front door.

“Awe, you think I’m devious? Thank you. That’s so sweet.” When he tossed me a look, I giggled. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t think I was that devious, but, I supposed, when you took into account what I’d done to myself to try to frame the narrative around my escape, I could probably be considered a little devious.

As I got into the front seat of Mike’s car, I wondered if Fang was going to approve. My bet was an emphatic hell yeah.

Mike didn’t need the address. He must’ve remembered where he lived. I searched for some good music on the radio, but all I found were boring commercials. So I gave up and leaned back in my seat, watching the scenery pass by. It still amazed me how quickly you went from a rich neighborhood to downtown, and then to the bad neighborhood. This city really did have a bit of everything.

“Fang really liked my hair,” I spoke, trying to make Mike jealous. “I think he’s going to love the contacts.” I twirled some hair around a finger, acting coy.

“My devious statement still stands.”

I turned my head to look at him. “I’m not trying to be devious. I’m just saying, he’ll probably ask me to marry him.” I tried to deadpan it, but I couldn’t; I started to laugh—and I laughed even harder when Mike scowled.

For someone who’d done his best lately to avoid being physically close to me, the look on his face told me he would not be okay with Fang popping the question.

It was kind of cute, really, his scowl.

Regardless of whether Fang popped any questions my way or not, I’d see shortly.

Fang’s building was just as run-down as I remembered it being, and I pulled out my phone and texted the number I had for him, telling him, This is Laina Hawkins. I’m here. Do you have some time to see me?

Mike parked his car in the same place as before, pulling right up to the entrance of the alley. He shut the car off and turned his hazel stare my way, his jaw tight. “You need to be careful with Fang. He’s not like the kind of people you’re used to dealing with.”

“I think I can handle myself around Fang just fine, thanks.” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “At least Fang isn’t afraid to give me some compliments. You act like I disgust you now.”

Okay, so I might harbor some resentment toward the fact that he was pretending nothing happened between us.

I started to get out of the car, but Mike’s hand shot out, grabbing me by the wrist. The feeling of his rough hand curling around my wrist gave me goosebumps because it forced me to remember that night. My gaze was measured in meeting his.

“You know that’s not it,” he told me, gruff. “It’s—”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember everything you said. I also remember the look on your face when you had me spread eagle beneath you, so…”

Mike yanked me closer to him, pulling me over the center console until our faces were inches apart and I could feel his hot breath blooming across my face. “You are so aggravating,” he murmured, his tone taking on the same huskiness it did that night. “You know perfectly well I don’t think you’re disgusting.”

“Then why pretend I am? Why act like it was a mistake?”

His gaze fell to my lips, and he sluggishly released me, turning his face away. “Because it was. It shouldn’t happen again.” He unclicked his seatbelt and got out of the car.

I could’ve said a few choice words to him there, but right then, my phone buzzed. Fang had responded, telling me he’d be over to let me in. So, I kept whatever else I might’ve told Mike to myself as we wandered to the lone door in the alleyway.

Fang was seconds slower than us, unlocking and opening the door, flashing me a silver-toothed grin the moment he saw me. His skin was covered in dirt and sweat, like he’d been working until he’d seen that I’d texted. He didn’t wear an apron or gloves this time, though I could tell based on how clean his hands were to the rest of his arms he had been.

“My, my,” Fang said, unable to take his eyes off me—which I was very grateful for, especially since Mike and I had gotten into a little argument about us, “look at you. You’re like a cotton candy daydream. I really could eat you up.”

Mike let out a sound that was reminiscent of a growl, but then the man coughed, trying to play it off.

Fang heard it as what it was, though, because he finally tore his gaze off me and looked at Mike. “Only one guard this time, I see, and it looks like Big Mike is acting a little more protective of you than he was before. Something happen between you two that I should know about?”

“She’s a client,” Mike broke his silence. “You shouldn’t talk to her like that.”

“It’s fine,” I spoke before Fang could reply to him. “I don’t mind.” I took a step toward Fang, tossing Mike a glance over my shoulder. “You’re fine waiting out here, right?”

“I think I should come in this time.” Mike tried to take a step in, but Fang wouldn’t move. It occurred to me then that they were both obscenely tall. Mike had the muscle and a few extra inches, but that muscle was what made him look so much bigger.

“Ah, see, to me, it sounds like she wants you to wait out here,” Fang spoke, unimpressed by Mike’s posturing. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe. I wouldn’t leave a mark on her… unless she wanted me to.” With that, he shut the door in Mike’s face and locked it. He grinned his uncanny smile at me and asked, “Do you think we made him sufficiently jealous?” He started walking.

“Jealous? I wasn’t—”

“Please. Don’t lie to me, Princess.” Still with the princess nickname, I see. We turned into the stairwell once we reached it, starting to head up. I’d been working out every day, growing stronger, so hopefully the trip up wouldn’t wind me as much this time. “You have feelings for him, don’t you?”

“I…” I couldn’t answer him.

“And you have feelings for the other man who’s not here, the one I told you to be careful of. Where is he, by the way?” Fang spoke so matter-of-factly about me having feelings for more than one guy. Then again, he dealt with Lola before, and she had her own harem, so maybe it wasn’t as unusual for someone like him.

Swallowing hard, I muttered, “He’s in the hospital. He got shot saving my life.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Someone’s out to get me. No one knows who yet.”

“Now that you mention it, I did see something about that. When I heard you were going to talk to the press, I tuned in. One of the news stations was broadcasting it live.” Fang glanced at me as we continued up. “You look so much better with your hair like this.”

See what I mean about Fang not being afraid to give compliments?

“I’m glad he was the one who took a bullet for you,” Fang finished as we came upon the fifth floor, where his living space was. He opened the door for me, letting me walk in first. “I was concerned about him, but it seems he would do anything for you, including possibly dying.” His legs halted, and he turned to face me, a serious expression on his grimy face. “But you don’t want to think about that, do you?” He was so dirty that white tuft of hair by his left temple was more gray than anything else.

“No,” I said, shaking my head once. “I need him to be okay.”

“I’m sure he will be. Just give him some time. I have the feeling only death could take him from you.” I was about to ask him what the hell he meant by that when he glanced down at himself and muttered, “Oh, look at me. I’m filthy. Let me hop in the shower for a minute, and then I can show you what I have. Feel free to grab anything you want from the kitchen.”

He said nothing else to me as he walked off. The door to the bathroom was on the same wall as the one that opened up to the stairwell, and he disappeared behind it shortly—though, I noticed he didn’t shut the door fully once he was inside. He left it cracked.

I had to tear my gaze away from the door, moving to the other side of the wide-open space. Instead of finding something in the kitchen, I went to study some of his work. Most of what was in here, dotting the space between areas of the loft, were smaller sculptures.

They were pretty cool, not going to lie. No taller than two feet, though most of them were a lot smaller than that. Some were abstract, and I couldn’t make out what they were supposed to be. Others were lifelike replicas of various things. A rose, complete with thorns and all. A miniature car, whose metal wheels could turn, I found out after touching it and trying to roll it around on its small stand.

The last one I stood before was a skull. No, not a skull… more like a mask. A full skeletal mask that covered your whole face, save for a small area around your eyes. Its shiny silver metal sparkled, though the only light in the loft came in through the windows on either side. Nothing direct.

It was the opposite of plain, and it reminded me of—God, what was it called? Sugar skulls? All intricate and pretty. The metal mask had a gilded design on it, gorgeous right down to where the teeth were.

I must’ve stared at it for a while, because I heard Fang’s voice behind me: “That’s one of my favorite pieces.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard him speak so close behind me. Whirling on him, I was about to tell him not to sneak up on me, but then I noticed he wore nothing but a towel around his waist, so in the end, all I could do was stare at him—or his body, rather.

Fang was tall and lean, but he wasn’t super skinny. His chest and abdomen were defined in all the ways they should be; flat and smooth, and glistening with water. He obviously didn’t dry himself off before coming out here, otherwise he wouldn’t be so… wet.

Either Fang was oblivious to me checking him out, or it’s what he was hoping for by strolling out here wearing nothing but a towel, because his gray eyes were fixated on the mask behind me as he went on, “It started off as a prototype. Sylvester Luciano hired me to make something for Lola. I started with this, but… the end product was a little different.”

After the story she told me, I have the feeling I know exactly why Lola would need a metal mask like that.

Then Fang’s gaze shifted to me, and a smirk grew on his lips. He flashed me his silver fangs with a mischievous smile as he ran a hand down his chest, tapping a finger against his abdomen. “I suppose I should go put some clothes on.”

I wanted to smack myself when I let out a breath and it sounded audibly uneven. I was making it more than obvious that I was attracted to this guy, that something about his craziness pulled me in. He was a stranger to me, but I just couldn’t fight the way I wanted to be close to him, how I was seconds from telling him he didn’t need to put any clothes on. Sure, we could have this meeting naked.

But, uh, it probably wasn’t the time for that, so I didn’t say anything to him.

The smirk only grew on Fang’s face with my silence, and after staring at me for another thirty seconds, he turned and walked toward the bedroom area of the loft. Since there were no walls, I could see every movement he made as he walked around his large bed and stopped in front of a tall dresser. He pulled out a black shirt, along with a pair of black pants and equally dark boxer briefs.

I thought he would return to the bathroom to change, but nope. Fang yanked the towel off him, exposing himself to the room, and started to change as if he didn’t have a lone audience member.

Heat crept up to my cheeks, and I had to turn away, not letting myself get a lingering view of his naked body. “You could’ve given me a warning,” I huffed, wanting to sound irritated but failing.

“Oh, right. Princess, I’m naked.”

“Not now! Before, when you—never mind. Just get dressed.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

With my back to him, I endeavored not to picture the way he’d looked when that towel had dropped. “Why do you keep calling me that, anyway? I’m no princess.” And I never would be. A princess who needed someone to save her from all the evil forces that wanted to do her harm was something I never wanted to be.

Although, maybe it was closer to reality than I wanted.

“With that hair, and now those eyes, you are a candy princess to me. The ruler of all that’s sugar. I really could eat you up.” He said all of that so seriously, I knew he wasn’t lying or poking fun at me. He meant every single word, and that’s why I still blushed, even when Fang was fully clothed.

He came over to me, moving to stand before me, still wearing that telltale smirk. He always seemed to smirk like that when he was looking at me, for whatever reason. “Shall we sit and discuss what I can do for you?” He gently took my left hand in his, running his fingertips along my palm, sending butterflies aflutter in my stomach.

Well, that was why I was here in the first place. All I could do was nod, and Fang led me to the couch in the living room area. He left me to retrieve a sketchbook on his desk and sat beside me moments after that.

“Now, this was my first thought,” Fang said, flipping the sketchbook open and showing me the drawing gracing the page.

A girl’s hand, drawn delicately, but the hand itself wasn’t the main focus of the page. No, that honor belonged to the metal fingers making up the pinky and the ring finger. It looked to have joints where they should bend, along with rounded tips to mimic fingertips. Two small runs of metal were attached to the lowest parts of the fingers, running over the top of the hand to a piece that curled around the wrist in a bracelet-like fashion.

Fang pointed to the metal fingers. “They’ll be attached to your hand with rings that’ll slip on over you, along with these—” He ran his finger over the part of the drawing that attached the metal fingers to the bracelet. “—which, when you bend your fingers, will allow you to bend the metal as well.”

Ah. Now I understood why there was a bracelet part. It grounded the metal fingers to my hand, and in doing so, would allow me to bend them. I doubted they’d bend as much as my real fingers, but any movement was better than none.

“It’ll be snug,” Fang explained. “So you might need help putting it on and taking it off, depending on how good you are with your other hand. Now, after seeing your reaction to the gauntlet I made my brother, I thought I’d whip up something else for you.” He flipped the page, showing me a second drawing.

This one was much like the first in that a feminine hand had been sketched on its page, but the overall feel was different. The first was, dare I say, plain, meant to replace my fingers with metal. This one, however, was like Fang had mixed his first idea with his brother’s gauntlet, with a sprinkle of pizzazz.

It had the same general feel as the first, with a bracelet around my wrist, but instead of rounded edges for the fingertips, they were done like sharp nails. The metal making up the pinky and ring finger was more elegant, gilded with swirls in the metal. And, what was more, it wasn’t just the last two.

It was the whole hand. Each finger had its own sharpened point, like a ring for the top, and they all attached to the same metal plate that would sit on top of the hand. That metal plate hid the connections between the fingers and the bracelet, a small question mark drawn on top of it.

“This one’s more like a gauntlet, I suppose, but not as bulky as my brother’s,” Fang told me. “This one would be more for show, but the nails on the tips of the fingers would be sharp and strong enough you could use them, if you wanted.”

“What’s the question mark for?”

“Oh, that. Well, that metal plate is large enough for me to do something with it. I could inlay any design you want—within reason.” Oh, that made sense. Fang stared at me, waiting to hear my thoughts. “Well? What are you thinking, Princess?”

It was difficult to take my eyes off the image and bring my gaze to him. His black hair was messy and damp, the lighter tuft of near his left temple a lot more white than it had been before his shower. He sat directly beside me on the couch, his body angled toward mine.

“I like them both,” I answered him, trying my best not to start fidgeting once I realized how very close he was.

Fang smirked. He was slow in leaning toward the coffee table and setting the sketchbook down. “I could make them both for you, so you’d always have the option of wearing either one. The first could be when you’re out and about with your family, while the other… could be reserved for more private nights.”

That actually sounded amazing. “You’d make them both for me?”

He leaned back, setting an arm on the couch behind my shoulders. “For you, Princess, I’d make anything you want.” He ran his tongue along his left canine, and then he dropped his voice to a bare whisper when he said, “And if you ever wanted to practice using that second glove on someone, I’m always here for you.”

He was… offering to let me hurt him with it? I was so stunned at the offer that I didn’t even realize at first what that meant. Not fully. It shouldn’t shock me to hear Fang had a few strange kinks. The dude had metal fangs, for goodness sake.

The air around us descended into silence, neither one of us saying a thing more. It was as if we were locked in a staring contest, neither one of us wanting to lose. The way his gray eyes twinkled, how their depths revealed the desire in him, let’s just say it was a hard thing to not lean into him and breathe him in.

What would those teeth feel like on my skin? How would kissing him work?

“Let me grab a few things to take some measurements.” Fang was the first one to look away, but only so he could go get whatever it was he needed, and that left me alone on the couch for a few minutes, trying in vain to contain my wandering thoughts and rapidly beating heart.

Fang returned shortly, carrying a small, rolled-up measuring tape, a different notebook, and a pencil. He opened the notebook and set it on the couch beside my knee, placing the pencil on top of it before unrolling the loose measuring tape and kneeling before me. He was such a tall guy, he looked almost silly on his knees, but when he grabbed my left wrist, I hitched a breath.

I kind of liked how Fang looked on his knees.

“You’re healing up well,” he whispered, starting to take measurements. He wrapped the tape around my wrist first, then jotted down the exact size in millimeters. “Does it still hurt?” He measured the length between my wrist and the first knuckle on my pinky after that.

“Not really,” I told him, watching him work. If I didn’t watch him work, I’d just be watching him, and if I was watching him, certain thoughts would rise up in my head. With how strong yet soft his hands were, I knew he wore gloves any time he was working with metal; those gloves protected his hands. They’d definitely feel nice on other parts of me…

Shit. No, no, no. Bad Laina.

“It’s weird, though,” I went on as he carefully wrapped the tape around what was left of my pinky. It didn’t hurt, but it did feel odd. “It’s like half the time it still feels like my fingers are there. I forget they’re gone, and then I look down at my hand and suddenly remember.”

Fang nodded, as if he understood. “I’m sure that’ll happen a lot in the future. You are lucky, Princess, that you lost the fingers above the first joint, otherwise, if they would’ve been down to the knuckle, I wouldn’t be able to make the new fingers as usable.”

Lucky. I didn’t know that I’d ever call myself lucky. With everything that had happened in my life, luck had nothing to do with it. Luck had never been a part of my life.

Once Fang had gotten all the measurements he needed, he redid them a second time to double check his originals. I didn’t know how long it took, but he seemed very focused on getting every measurement right—which made sense. It wasn’t a mask he was making me; it was fingers.

As he finished up double-checking his final measurement, I said, “We never discussed payment.”

Fang wound up the measuring tape and set it on his notebook. In the next moment, he’d moved it all to the coffee table, on top of his sketchbook, and he was sitting down beside me once again, silver eyes on me. “My fee is typically a pretty steep one—”

With the kind of work he did, I understood why. “I’ll get my dad to pay you whatever you want.” At this point, I didn’t care how much he’d charge. I’d beg my dad to pay if I had to. He was the mayor; he was probably one of the highest paid people in this city, besides the criminal underworld kings, that was.

“I think you and I could work something out, so you wouldn’t have to involve anyone else.”

I swallowed, noting the intense expression on his face. His jaw was clean-shaven, his cheeks gaunt. He had high cheekbones, which lent to an imposing face, and with that everlasting smirk… I think I knew what kind of arrangement he meant even before I asked, “What do you want?”

He flashed me his fangs in a wide smile. “Awe, Princess, playing coy with me, even though we both know exactly what it is I want? You’re so adorable.” Fang leaned into me, angling his head down as two of his fingers pinched my chin and forced me to gaze into his eyes. “I really could eat you up.”

He kept saying that. With him, it had to be meant both literally and figuratively—not something you could say about most people.

When I said nothing, Fang murmured, “I told you from the very first time I saw you. I want you to be my princess.” The fingers on my chin dropped, and my lungs burned when those fingers fell to my throat, dancing along my collarbone.

“Is this an offer you give to any pretty girl who wants to hire you?” I had to ask, even though it was a struggle to. I was drawn to Fang, it was true. Did Lola know this would happen when she gave me his information?

He chuckled, and the fingers on my collarbone swept back, pushing my pink and blue hair off my shoulder to expose my neck to him. “It’s not, actually. You’re the first… and, hopefully, only.”

“Why? Why do you even want me like that? You don’t know me—”

“Don’t I? I hate people. It’s why I’m always here, keeping myself busy. But when I answered the door and saw you standing in the alley, I could feel it. You’re different, Princess. We’re all monsters in this city, so when you find someone who calls out to the monster in you, you act. You pounce and take them under your wing.”

“I’m not a monster,” I whispered, wishing it was true.

“Aren’t you? A normal person wouldn’t want claws like that,” he spoke of the second drawing he’d shown me. “There’s only one reason anyone would want claws that sharp: to tear into your enemies and make them bleed.” Fang paused, letting his words sink in. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made someone bleed, am I right?”

My heart beat fast for a whole different reason now. I wanted to squirm away from him, but I was rooted in place on the couch, lost in the depths of those metallic gray eyes as they bore into me, all too knowing. “I’ve never hurt anyone else.”

“But you’ve drawn blood before,” he spoke, knowing things he shouldn’t know. His hand dropped to my left, and he took my hand in his. “Your own.”

Just because I’d told Mike the truth didn’t make it any less hard for me to hear from Fang. “How do you—”

“How do I know? Princess, you’re right-handed. The cuts were clean. It’s at the perfect angle. You did this to yourself,” Fang spoke with a knowledge of me he definitely shouldn’t have. “Everyone else is too overjoyed to have you back to truly pay attention. No one questions you, and that’s where you get off, skating under the radar.”

I had to tear my gaze off his, lowering my eyes to my left hand. Fang’s hand curled around it, like he wasn’t about to let me go… like he didn’t think any less of me, even while knowing the truth. He wasn’t furious at me, like Mike had been, only accepting.

“I won’t ask you why,” Fang whispered. “Your reasons are your own. But please, if you ever feel the need to spill some blood again, come to me. I’ll let you take all the blood you want from me.”

I inhaled sharply. “Fang.”

He shrugged. “A perk of being my princess.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything—”

Fang’s body inched closer to mine, his face so close to mine our noses touched. “You also haven’t said no.” With his face so close to mine, it was impossible to focus on his face, so my eyelids fell, and I closed my eyes.

“But, what about—”

It seemed Fang could anticipate everything I was going to say, because he whispered, “Sharing isn’t so bad. The Lucianos do it. My brother does it. As long as they treat you like the princess you are, I don’t mind. If, however, they turn on you or harm a single hair on your head… I’ll kill them.”

Hearing him say all that sent my mind racing. Not only was he okay with sharing me, but he would also kill to protect me? What the… it should bother me, hearing that, but it only made me want the guy more.

What was wrong with me?

“What say you, Princess? Are you going to let me worship you how you deserve to be worshiped?” Fang’s voice took on a husky tone, causing a shiver to run down my back. His mouth was so close to mine, and yet still so far. “Are you going to let me have a taste of you?” The hand holding mine moved to the wrist, squeezing harder. “Your silence is driving me crazy, you know.”

If I said no, would Fang drop it and stop all this?

The thing was, the answer didn’t matter, because I didn’t want to say no. There was only one way this conversation could go, and that’s…

“Yes,” I breathed out the word, and no sooner did I say it did Fang’s mouth close in on mine. His other arm wrapped around my body, pulling me closer to his chest as his lips acquainted themselves with mine. The push and pull of our mouths together was in perfect unison; we were both trying to devour the other through a single kiss.

In the back of my head, I knew this was crazy, but I didn’t care. I felt so strongly connected to this man that I couldn’t think straight. Lola sending me here had to have been fate, just like the night my Devil had come to me and taken me. Some things were simply meant to be.

I moaned into the kiss, wrapping an arm around Fang’s neck. He still held onto my one wrist, so I couldn’t do anything with that arm. I could feel his sharp teeth graze my lower lip, and then he bit down. Not a lot, not too hard, but enough to break the back of my lip and draw blood.

The suddenness of it all made me want to pull away, but he didn’t let me. His tongue found its way into my mouth, and he licked at my lower lip, right where he’d nicked me.

I guess he was taking the tasting me part seriously. And here I thought he was just being poetic about wanting to kiss me, not, you know, wanting to take an actual bite. But with those teeth, and how often he said he wanted to eat me up… it really shouldn’t shock me.

The taste of my own blood dotted my tongue, even after he’d gotten his taste of me. Fang didn’t pull away after that, though. His mouth remained on mine, kissing me hard, fervently, like I was the only thing he wanted in this world. Before I knew it, he’d leaned me back, laying me down on the couch and crawling over me, using his long, lean body to pin mine down.

He jerked my left arm above my head, holding it there, and then he took my right and did the same. As he held both wrists above my head, he tore his mouth off mine to murmur, “You taste just as good as I thought you would, Princess.” His gray eyes bore down into me, making me squirm under him from the intensity radiating from them. “Are you all right? Did I bite down too hard on you?”

I managed to shake my head and say, “I’m okay. I just… wasn’t expecting it.” Even as I spoke, I could taste my own blood still. It wasn’t gushing, but there was enough there to taste it every time I ran my tongue along where he’d clamped down.

Fang smirked, flashing me those peculiar teeth. “I told you I like to bite.”

That was very true. He did, the very first time we’d met, so I had no one to blame but myself. But it didn’t hurt. I didn’t mind it, actually. It was kind of hot, knowing he desired me so badly he needed to taste me like that.

He lowered his face again, bringing his lips to my jaw. He kissed a line down my jaw, and when he reached the side of my chin, I felt him graze his teeth against the skin, not pricking me again with those sharp canines, but teasing me with him. It was a peculiar feeling, but yet it didn’t feel wrong.

It felt good, actually.

When he moved his mouth to the crook of my neck, I shivered and moaned when the tips of his teeth danced along my skin, and Fang murmured, “The sounds you make are addicting, Princess, like music to my ears. Moan more for me. Let me hear you.” His mouth moved to an earlobe, and he sucked it between his teeth. The feeling of his teeth grazing the lobe made me moan again—which was exactly what he wanted.

“Yes,” he whispered, his lips finding mine once again. He kissed me hard and quick before adding, “Right now, you’re all mine, Princess. All mine. Let me show you what else I can do with these teeth.”

The hands holding my wrists abandoned them, traveling down my body. Within five seconds, he’d yanked up my shirt and exposed my bra to him. Fang licked his lips as his hands moved beneath the bra, fingers running over my pebbled nipples and making me moan yet again.

My eyes closed when Fang pushed my bra up and lowered his mouth to me. He kissed around my chest, taking his time in moving to a nipple—and when he sucked a nipple in between his teeth, I about lost it. A fluttery sigh escaped me, tiny shockwaves of electricity zapping through me when the sharp tip of one of his fangs ran over it.

The metal fangs, the sharp point of them, brought with them a heightened sense of pleasure, and it was all I could do to lay there and accept whatever it was he’d do to me. He really did like using his teeth.

Fang abandoned my chest, moving down along my stomach. “Let’s see what other sounds I can bring out of you,” he murmured, getting up. “But for this next part, it might be easier on the bed.” He scooped me up and carried me around the couch, heading toward his bed, where he deposited me gently. His hands worked to take off my pants before he hopped on, kneeling over my legs with a lustful look on his face. “Are you ready for me to eat you alive, Princess?” His gaze flicked between my face and the pink panties I wore.

I nodded. It was all I could do. Any words I’d try to speak right now would fail me; I knew that.

He flashed me a smirk before sinking down and lowering his face to my apex. I thought he would take off my panties—and he did, just not how I thought. His teeth grazed my skin for just the quickest of moments before snaking under and hooking against the panties, and then he pulled them down.

Yeah, the guy literally took off my panties with his teeth. It was the sexiest thing ever, and the way he licked his lips after they were off made me clench my thighs together in anticipation. My lower half burned with need.

My pink panties hung off his finger, and as he smirked at me, he murmured, “I hope you don’t mind leaving these here for me when you go. I want something of yours here, and since I can’t have you, these—” He twirled the panties around his finger. “—are a nice substitute.”

It was the last thing I thought I’d hear, but I found myself saying, “Sure.” If he wanted to keep my panties, who was I to stop him?

Fang said nothing to that, but his chest did hum with approval as he set the panties aside and spread my legs wide, positioning himself between them. His silver gaze fell to my slit, raking over what was surely a slick set of pussy lips and a swollen clit. He ran his tongue over teeth one final time, and then he lowered himself.

Some girls might find it scary, the thought of someone with sharp, metal fangs going down on you, but I was here to tell you: it wasn’t bad. Quite the opposite, in fact. Feeling the tips of his teeth as he took your clit in his mouth and sucked on it was one of the best feelings in the world.

My hands clenched in the sheets, my body writhed with pleasure. I let out moan after moan, not bothering to keep myself quiet. What would be the point? He wanted to hear me, just like he wanted to eat me up.

God, if it was Fang doing the eating, I guess I was down. I was down for anything Fang wanted to do to me.

His tongue lapped at me, swirling around my clit before dropping to my pussy entrance. He pushed his tongue inside me, eating me out while his fangs pressed against the slick skin around it. I arched my back, my muscles starting to tremble uncontrollably. It was like my body took on a will of its own, and Fang’s mouth fueled my heightened senses in a way no one else could.

I couldn’t catch my breath, but it wasn’t until the pressure in my lower half imploded that I knew why. An orgasm, the strongest, most powerful one I’d ever felt, swallowed me whole. Every part of me lit on fire, my heart racing, and my clit ached for more. I couldn’t stifle the sound that left me when the pleasure became too much to bear; I cried out, a garbled, incomprehensible sound that told Fang his skills were top-notch.

Fang’s tongue didn’t stop, though. He licked a line from my pussy to my clit, taking the swollen nub between his teeth, gently teasing me with his sharp canines. He was perfectly at home between my legs, and by the time he was done, I think I came another three times—and each orgasm was stronger than the last.

I was a mindless mess when Fang finally pulled his mouth off me, licking his lips like he could keep going. He crawled up and flopped over, lying beside me and propping up his head with his hand. He’d taken my panties and stuffed them beneath his pillow while saying, “Every part of you is sublime, by the way.”

Breathing hard, I was slow in fixing my bra and my shirt, even slower in rolling onto my side to look at Fang. My cheeks were flushed with heat, my body still tingly in all the right places from the sheer number of orgasms he’d given me. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was like he’d melted my damned brain with the orgasms.

Fang smirked, flashing me his sharp teeth. “You’re so beautiful when you’re undone, Princess.”

I figured thanking him would be a weird thing to say, so in the end, I didn’t say anything. I was still struggling to regain some sense of control over myself and my senses, so it was probably for the best.

He set a hand on my waist, over my shirt. “We should probably get you going. The big guy out there is probably wondering what all I’m doing to you in here. I bet he’d lose his mind if you walked out of here out of breath and as red as you are now.”

My eyes closed for a moment, and I remembered the night I’d gone to him, right after Kieran was shot. How he’d reacted to me, the things he’d said, how he’d stopped us from going too far. And now, how he pretended nothing at all had happened.

When I opened my eyes again, I muttered, “He’s just doing his job.”

Fang’s black brows lifted. “Is it his job, then, to get jealous over you wanting to be alone with another guy? No, Princess. You’re smarter than that. I don’t know what happened between you two, and I don’t need to, but I know you’re not just a job to him.”

“That’s not what he said.”

He studied me, knowing me all too well, somehow. “You want things from him he’s hesitant to give. Give him some time. He’ll come around. From what I hear, he’s a good guy to have at your side when shit hits the fan, and based on what happened the last time you made a public appearance, I’d say you’re going to need him.” Fang swept some of my hair off my face, tucking it behind an ear. “If you ever need me for anything, call. Any hour of the day or night. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and come to you.”

I probably should’ve thought it was a weird thing for him to offer, but then again, his mouth had been all over on my body not too long ago—and he was keeping my panties—so him offering to come to me whenever I needed him wasn’t so surprising. Fang moved fast, go figure.

“You won’t…” I paused, swallowing. “You won’t say anything, will you? About this.” I lifted my left hand off the bed a few inches.

“No,” he told me. “That’s your secret to tell, not mine. But if I put it together, others will. It’s only a matter of time. Listen to me. I didn’t know you before you were kidnapped, but I can tell you’re used to doing everything everyone wants you to. This is your life, though. You’re the one who needs to live it, not them. Not your father, not your stepmother, not Lola, not Kieran or Big Mike… just you. Do what makes you happy and fuck everyone else.”

My lips tugged into a smile at that. “You have a way with words, Fang, has anyone ever told you that?”

“No, actually. Believe it or not, I don’t get out much, and my usual clientele isn’t half as pretty as you. You’re bringing all these things out of me. I’d tell you I don’t like it, but then I’d be lying.” He grinned, leaned over, and pressed a kiss upon my lips, then he pulled away and hopped off the bed, finding my leggings and tossing them at me. “Now, let’s get you out of here before I decide I want to take another bite.”

I didn’t know if he meant go down on me again, or if he meant it in a more literal sense. My lip had stopped bleeding, so there was that, but I had the feeling Fang would love to sink those teeth of his into other places if I let him.

So, yeah, it was best for me to get dressed and leave, at least for today.

I crawled off the bed and got to my feet. I worked on pulling up my leggings, knowing Fang watched me all the while. Once I was good to go, he walked with me down the steps to the first floor—after, uh, adjusting himself, that was. He’d gotten hard eating me out, and he didn’t want to advertise what had happened to Mike yet. It was up to me whether or not to tell Mike about what had happened between us.

Once we reached the bottom floor of the building, we walked through the dark hall to the alleyway door, and Fang unlocked it for me and held it open. Mike stood leaning against the opposite building in the alley, his strong, bulky arms folded over his chest, making his muscles pop that much more.

“She’s all yours now, pal,” Fang spoke with a smile, though he did shoot me a glance as I stepped out. “I’ll see you soon, Princess.”

Mike pushed off the wall, uncrossing his arms as his face twisted into a scowl. His hazel eyes landed on me, and he frowned, but he didn’t say a word. All he did was turn and start walking to the car parked on the street at the end of the alley.

I followed after him, but I did turn and glance at Fang over my shoulder as I went. Fang was watching me walk away with a smug, self-satisfied smile on his face. Before he disappeared inside the building, he gave me a wink.

Mike said nothing, not until after I was in the car and he was pulling out onto the road. He grumbled out, “Why does he call you princess?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.” Mike shot me a look after that, and I fought the smile that tried to surface on my face. My body was still riding a high from all of those orgasms, though it had cooled a bit. My skin was no longer on fire, at least, so it shouldn’t be too obvious what we’d gotten up to.

“You were gone for a while.”

“He had a lot to say.”

All Mike did in reply to that was grunt, as if he didn’t believe me.

Hey, if he was going to act like what we did had never happened, then so was I. It shouldn’t matter to him if Fang and I got up to certain things when we were alone. There shouldn’t be a jealous bone in his body.

I couldn’t get Fang out of my head as he drove us home, and it took until I was safely tucked away in my room to feel the starting pangs of something else.

Guilt.

Guilt over letting Fang have me while Kieran was in a coma in the hospital. Guilt over wanting anyone who wasn’t my Devil—Kieran, Mike, and then Fang. Guilt over thinking it was stupid for me to want them all, to want a harem for myself like Lola.

I didn’t like the guilt. It was an unwelcome visitor in my life, but try as I might to push it away, it never faded completely. It hung around me, coiled around my neck like a choker, a constant reminder of how messed-up my life was.

That was when I decided I needed to have a little fun.