Page 167 of The Devil We Crave
“What are your intentions with her?”
I sigh. “Dad?—”
“I’m not asking for me. I’m asking becauseherfather isn’t going to ask benignly over a drink. Or unarmed,” he growls, his tone dark. “Nero’s a?—”
“Psychopath, I know.”
He lifts his shoulders. “Like it or not, families are part of the deal when you pick someone, Achilles.”
Part of me wants to push back on the “picking” comment. But he’s right.
Ihave“picked” her.
Chosen her.
Decided upon her.
Yelena isn’t a “fascination”. She’s not my current obsession.
She’s myforeverobsession. My most fascinating fascination, one that I’ll never tire of. Not even Nero's infamous penchant for violence is going to change that.
I clear my throat. “Any advice for me?”
Dad chuckles. “Why, because your mother came with her own Nero?”
I’ve heard the story a hundred times: Mom’s piece of shit dad was dead before she and Dad ever met, but that doesn’t mean Dad had it easy. He had her psychotic andhighlyprotective uncle, my great-uncle Cillian, to deal with. Not to mention my uncle Castle, who might not be a psychopath, butisa former Army Ranger, and was protective as fuck of Mom when Dad came snooping around.
My dad sighs and shakes his head. “I do, actually. Be bold. If she’s what you want and youknowthat, don’t pussyfoot around. Own it.” I follow his gaze to where Yelena is talking with Mom.
“That’s how I was with your mother, and I’ve worn my feelings for her every single day since.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “When it comes to matters of the heart, be unafraid and un-fucking-repentant.”
“This place is…”She whistles under her breath as she gazes out over the twinkling lights of Central Park spread out forty stories below. “Magical. I can’t believe you grew up with this. Your mom told me you were here pretty much all the time.”
I shrug, surveying the grounds of Ya-ya’s estate. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”
She laughs. “I’mgoingto. Your mom and Ya-ya have already said I can come over whenever I want, withorwithout you. They were pretty clear about thator.”
I smirk. “Now I feel like I’m being used.”
She grins, her face half in shadow. “Little taste of your own medicine?”
“Oh, but I think youenjoythe ways I use you, little prey.”
She gasps quietly as I move against her, lacing my fingers around her waist and pulling her small frame to my body. She tilts her head back to look up at me.
“I do,” she says, her brow furrowing a little. “And I think that scares me.”
“Why?”
Her lip retreats between her teeth. “It still feels…” She shrugs and drops her gaze. “I don’t know?—”
“Yes, you do.”
Yelena trembles deliciously when I touch her chin, lifting her gaze to mine.
“It feels…wrong,” she breathes. “To…you know…likethose things.”
“Things like the way I fuck you?”
