Page 67 of Reclaimed

“Did you carve your initial over his?” I demand, bristling.

His finger traces over it. “You weren’t his to claim.”

I smack his hand away with a scowl. “I’m not yours either, asshole.”

His expression shifts, eyes going feral. Gripping the base of his cock, he lines himself up, and I scream as he slams into me, burying himself to the hilt. My muscles seize, hands flying to his chest as my body struggles to accommodate the sudden burning stretch.

He catches both of my wrists in one hand, wrenching them above my head and pinning them there.

“You’re a fucking liar.” He rolls his hips, a violent shiver racing through me. “You’re mine to possess.”

His lips crash against mine, hard and brutal, our teeth clashing as he forces his tongue into my mouth. He tastes every corner, biting my bottom lip as he roughly pulls back.

“Mine to fucking ruin.”

He dips his head down, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. I gasp, arching into it.

“Mine to fucking keep.”

He rocks back, shifting to his knees as his hands release my wrists and settle at my hips.

“You’re all fucking mine, Jersey,” he snarls, fingers digging bruises into my thighs as he wrenches my legs apart before slamming back inside.

And god fucking help me– I like hearing him say it.

27

TALON

Ilean against the kitchen island, staring at my phone as I take a bite of toaster waffle. There’s enough food stockpiled in this cabin to survive a fucking apocalypse– probably two– and still, somehow toaster waffles are what I chose to celebrate my first day of unemployment.

The bedroom door opens as I’m tearing off another bite, Jersey wandering out wearing another one of my shirts, rubbing her eyes. I lower the volume on the music playing from the surround sound, gesturing to the plate of waffles in offering.

She pauses, blinking at me in confusion before pointing to the ceiling. “Is this Retrograde?”

I jerk a nod, swallowing my bite as I reach for my coffee cup.

Her brows furrow. “You listen to Retrograde?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I growl.

“I… don’t know.” Her head tilts as she studies me, like she’ll find the answer carved in my fucking skin if she just looks hard enough.

“Worked security for their last live show,” I say. “They were decent.” My shoulder lifts in a shrug as I take a drink of my coffee.

“Seriously?” she asks, eyes brightening. “I was at that show. The one downtown?”

I nod again, then gesture to the empty barstool at the counter. “Eat.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Fine, starve,” I grumble, taking another large bite of waffle.

She glares at me for a beat before huffing out a breath, moving towards the kitchen and dropping down onto the stool.

“So, what now?” she asks, eyeing me as she pulls a waffle from the pile onto an empty plate, doing exactly what I fucking told her to do. “It’s been fun playing house and all, but what’s the end game here? Are you gonna bring me back to the Vanguard, turn me in to The Registry?”

“I should,” I mumble, moving in beside her. My hand snaps out, forefinger and thumb pinching her chin, tilting her head up until our gazes lock. “There’s a sizable bounty on your head, little stray.”