Chapter 12

12

Aurora

They say love and hate are different sides of the same coin. So are lust and anger. Malone has turned my fury into an inferno that I’m terrified will burn me down to nothing but ash. She’s kissing me. Something I refuse to admit that I can’t get enough of. More, her entire body is pressed against me, and it feels like I’ve been starved for touch until this moment. Like the one thing I’m missing in my life is the slow slide of her soft skin against mine.

She’s holding me down, but it feels like we’re clutching each other, like we exist in a space outside the simple rules of gravity. I can’t help rubbing myself against her leg as her tongue strokes mine. It must be the endorphins still raging from the sparring session because I’m so turned on, I can barely think straight.

I can’t think straight.

I am pure need and raging emotions. I can’t tell which way is up, don’t care about anything but the press of Malone’s body against mine. She’s wearing a similar outfit—shorts and a sports bra—and I wish it was less. I want all of her against all of me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. I knew I wanted her, of course, but I never bargained for how much. She overwhelms me.

Malone shifts, pressing my hands more firmly to the mat, and uses her thigh to spread my legs wider. She releases my mouth long enough to nip my neck, sending a delicious frisson of desire through me. “Make yourself come. Use me.”

She kisses me again before I can respond, but what is there to say? I want this. Her command just makes it easier to take what I need. I grind on her leg like a horny teenager, chasing the pleasure sparking through my body.

Gods, the woman can kiss.

Malone maintains control, even in this. It’s perfect and precise and hot enough to set me aflame. She kisses me like she’s memorizing me. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do. I shouldn’t like it at all.

My orgasm overwhelms me between one breath and the next. I moan, and she drinks the sound. I could almost swear that she shivers in response, but it must be my imagination. Malone’s too distant to ever react to something as simple as a little grinding orgasm.

Finally, a small eternity later, she lifts her head and looks down at me. “Do you have something else you want to do to finish your workout?”

I blink. What is she…

My mind clicks into place sluggishly, pleasure making it hard to focus. “Um.” I lick my lips, tasting her there. “I was going to go for a run.”

“Good.” She sits back and pulls me up with her. Only then does she release my hands. I can feel the imprint of her there, too, but that’s no surprise. I can feel her all over my body. Somehow it never registered with the aftercare or her carrying me, but having her body against mine is more intoxicating than any alcohol. I want more, and I want it now. I start to reach for her, but she lightly slaps my hand. “Go finish your workout, Aurora.”

Shock eliminates my verbal breaks. “But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“I came.” I motion vaguely at her hips. “You didn’t.”

Her smile is more like the Malone I’m used to, sharp and icy. “You’ll make it up to me later. Finish your workout,” she repeats. “Then go upstairs and get ready. Cocktail attire, no bra or panties. We leave at seven.” She turns, and I can’t help but watch her walk away. She’s so fucking flawless, it’s almost offensive. Her workout gear shows off her muscle definition with every step, a visual indication of the strength I’ve felt time and time again. Maybe if she was just strong, she wouldn’t have such an effect on me, but Malone is so much more than brute strength. She’s an elegant kind of violence in a beautiful package. The perfect predator, anyone with a hint of intelligence recognizes it the moment she walks into a space.

She seems to take all the air of out of the room with her when she leaves. I press my hands to my chest, my heart racing so hard, I can feel my pulse through my palms. What was that?

I hadn’t meant to show my hand, but the temper I normally have no problem locking down slips its leash more and more the longer I’m around Malone. I want to blame it on being close to my end goal of putting Malone six feet under, on seeing an opportunity for a “sparring accident.” I’m not so sure that’s the case any longer.

One of things living in the Underworld has taught me is to be honest, even if it’s only to myself.

The honest truth is that I desire Malone with a fervor I’ve never felt before. She’s a fire in my blood, and I used to be able to convince myself that it’s purely rage, but now I have to admit that it’s more nuanced than that. I hate her. I want her. A small, unforgivable part of me even admires her for the sheer strength and ruthlessness she exhibits.

I put my shoes and socks back on and drag myself into the other room. Under normal circumstances, I like running. It soothes me in a similar way that a good scene does—an exercise for both body and mind. Right now, I’m too frazzled to do more than a few miles. I keep circling back to the fight.

She’s better than I am. She might even be better than Allecto. I don’t know why part of me thought she’d let herself go over the years. I’ve looked into the place she came from, and though news out of Sabine Valley is scarce, Alaric originally comes from the same city. His information is years out of date because of how things went down with his cousins, but he gave me the basic rundown. About how the Amazons are one-third of the big movers of that city. About how they, more than the other two, straddle the line of shadows and light. They are CEOs and COOs and the upper tier in all of the companies in their territory. Just like Malone runs her corporation and rules the illegal industries in her territory with an iron fist.

She still moves like a warrior that might have to step onto a battlefield at any moment. She’s so fucking strong, too. Stronger than someone with her lean frame has right to be.

I touch my knuckles. They ache a little from the punch I landed on her face. I’m lucky she didn’t take it as a true attack, just an extension of our sparring.

I… I don’t know if I can beat her in an all-out fight.

I stop the treadmill and go through the motions of stretching. My thoughts whirl in increasingly frantic circles, a tornado of thorns that slice me with every rotation. I don’t know if I can beat her. The whole point of agreeing to these two weeks was finally getting revenge for what she did to my mother, to put Malone in the ground.

The plan felt rock solid when I decided on it. Not even Allecto’s arguments could get through my wall of stubbornness. But two days in, and I’m not sure I can pull it off.

I head back up to the penthouse in a daze. It’s empty, so Malone either didn’t come back here or has already come and gone. It’s just as well. I don’t know what my face is doing right now, and I have no faith that I can keep myself locked down enough to be in her presence.

The cat hisses at me as I walk past, and I hiss right back. “Mind your business and I’ll mind mine.”

A long shower does nothing to settle me. I walk out of the bathroom to find the demon cat sitting in the center of my bed. I eye the door. I must not have shut it all the way. The cat and I stare at each other. What did Malone say its name was? I glare. “Don’t get too comfortable. That’s my bed you’re sleeping on.” At least for the next ten days.

I consider my options for dinner. I’m still a little shocked at how Malone went all out with these clothes. It’s more than the money she must have dropped on it. It’s a cohesive wardrobe with enough options to almost fully replace the one I already own. And they’re all top-of-the-line and in my size.

She must have had an assistant handle that. I have to believe that, because the thought of her handpicking each item with me in mind is too much for me. It makes me feel strange, like my skin is too tight. I don’t like it.

Especially because there isn’t a white garment in the entire closet.

I finally land on a short, red cocktail dress. It’s long-sleeved and covered in sequins that will turn me into a walking disco ball. It’s also short enough to almost be indecent and backless. It’s extra as hell, but I’m instantly in love.

I style my hair down and vamp up my eyes a bit, finishing the look with red lipstick a shade brighter than the dress. The dress and makeup, combined with my indigo hair, make me look like a girly fantasy. I love it.

I find some nail polish—seriously, did she think of everything?—and paint my toes to match my lips. A silly little detail, but I like to go for the complete look, whether I’m running an errand for Allecto or spending a night working in the Underworld. Even if the details don’t matter to other people, they matter to me. That’s reason enough to do it.

Five minutes before seven, I slip on a pair of strappy silver heels and eye the cat. As much as I don’t want to leave him in this room, I really don’t want to go to dinner with claw marks all over my arms. I glare. “Your time is limited, my friend.”

He starts cleaning his paws, completely ignoring me. Because of course. Not only am I in over my head with Malone, but her fucking cat is more dominant than I am. Great.

I leave the door cracked open and head for the elevator. The foyer is empty, and I’m still considering what I should do when I hear footsteps behind me.

I turn, and the breath whooshes out of my body. She’s wearing suspenders again. Gods, why does that do it for me so hard? Malone is dressed in pinstriped tailored pants, tall black heels, and a slightly loose, light-gray button-down that she’s left half unbuttoned. It’s similar to what she wore the other day, but no less arresting for it.

Malone has a particular style, but when she wears stylized menswear, it’s my favorite. The contrast with her achingly delicate features and the power she exudes hits me in places I have barely registered exist. It’s everything I can do to hold still and not hit my knees as she approaches.

She takes me in and finally nods. “You look good, Aurora.”

I wait for the cut that no doubt will go with the compliment, but it doesn’t come. What’s going on? I clear my throat. “Thank you.”

“Let’s go.” She turns to the elevator and pauses.

It takes me longer than I’d like to admit to realize she wants me to take her arm. I edge closer to her, feeling skittish, and lightly place my fingers in the crook of her arm. We step into the elevator, and I start to drop my hand, but she covers it with her own. “What changed?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She gives me a long look. “You’ve gone from breathing fire to timid in the space of an afternoon. Surely you’re not still sore about my pinning you.”

Yes, but not for the reasons she’d expect. I try for a tight smile. “Why should I be sore about it? I came. You didn’t.”

One of her perfect brows arches, and her lips quirk up a little. She’s wearing a nude-toned lipstick, and her makeup is understated, but somehow that only seems to accent her beauty. Gods, it almost hurts to look at her. She looks away as the elevator doors open, spitting us into the parking garage. I expect to see Sara, but it’s the curvy Black woman from before waiting for us.

Malone motions an elegant hand at her. “This is Luna. She’ll be our security for the night.”

Luna falls into step behind us, and the skin at the back of my neck prickles. I’m not really expecting a knife in the ribs, but my instincts sense a predator, and it’s hard not to turn so I can keep an eye on her.

We take the same vehicle from the other night. I can’t help tensing as Malone settles in next to me. I can’t anticipate what tonight will bring. It makes me nervous, but even I can’t tell if it’s the sickening nerves or the ones that spark right before a truly amazing scene. Fear is a spice like any other emotion, and when directed by a skilled Dominant, it can enhance a scene to go from great to outstanding. It’s such a bladed edge to traverse, though. Push too far and it ruins everything. Don’t push far enough and you don’t drive your submissive to the desired heights.

Malone must know that, because she doesn’t speak the entire fifteen-minute drive. It’s only when we pull up in front of a building with a name I recognize that I realize our destination. Spindle, one of the most talked about restaurants in Carver City. I’ve never been, partly because the waiting list to make a reservation is over a year long, partly because of where it’s located—right in the middle of Malone’s territory.

She slides out of the backseat and offers me her hand. I don’t really need it to climb out, but the motion is a demand, even if it’s a nonverbal one. I slip my hand into hers, trying not to notice how soft her skin is, and allow her to assist me out of the car.

We walk through the front door, and the hostess practically falls all over herself to usher us back to a private dining room. She’s a thin white woman with brunette hair and the kind of near-alien beauty found on the runway, and she’s looking at Malone like she’d love nothing more than to kneel before her.

Something pricks me, an uncomfortable sensation beneath my skin. This woman looks at Malone like she knows her taste. It’s there in the way she can’t quite take her eyes off Malone, in the way she lingers in the private room for several beats too long before disappointment bows her frail shoulders and she leaves, closing the door behind her.

I take my hand from Malone’s arm and eye her. “Is she an ex?”

Malone’s mouth tightens. “She’s an indiscretion. I usually have better taste than to blur the lines between business and pleasure, but I didn’t realize she worked here when we met.”

Met. She means fucked.

The pricking sensation inside me gets worse. “So why not fire her?”

“Fire her because of my mistake?” She gives me a look like she’s disappointed in me. “Maybe that’s how Hades operates, but it’s not how I do things.”

I start to defend Hades, but the truth is that I’m speaking without thinking, and Hades isn’t who I want to discuss. “Did you even talk to her? Or do you just ice her out like you ice everyone out?”

Malone blinks. “There’s nothing to say. It was only for one night, and she knew that going into it.”

I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. I have no right to the jealousy—yes, jealousy—I’m feeling, but I can empathize with the woman despite that. “So you fucked her, and now you come to her place of work and ignore her instead of talking? You are such an unbelievable asshole.”