Page 52 of Knight’s Dominion

Game on, asshole.

Her shift dragged, and ignoring Vince’s worried glances and playing the injured female for Oden's benefit was exhausting. Oden eventually left, and much to Jemma’s dismay, he left alone, which was unexpected and a little worrying. Did he think he was doing her a favor? Did he think she owed him now for not fucking one of her coworkers?

Just when she thought she had the guy figured out.

By the time she went upstairs to her apartment, she wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and fall into a dreamless coma, but catching some shut-eye wasn’t an option.

For one, there was a Hell beast still on the loose in the city.

And when she walked into the quiet of her small apartment and looked at her bed, all she could see was Chaos. His enormous body pinning her to his bed at the compound as he cleaned her wounds, the way he smelled, the deep rasp of his voice.

The way he’d tasted when she’d lost control and kissed him.

It’d only been a day since she’d seen him, but instead of relief, she felt like a junkie in desperate need of a fix.

Every conversation between them had been playing through her mind. For the most part, he’d been…reasonable. He’d actually asked her for help. She was still struggling to believe it had happened.

She shoved her fingers through her hair and paced her room. She’d seen him fight. The male put it all on the line, every time. He left each and every battle bloody and exhausted.

She’d seen him with his brothers. He cared for them. Chaos made the hard decisions, even when it pissed off the other knights.

Grace sat heavily on the end of her bed.

Everything he did was all for a greater good, honoring what he was, what he was born to do.

Yes, the male could be stubborn, misguided. Even thickheaded. But she couldn’t deny that everything he did, he did to protect the demi he was created to protect, to keep this city safe.

Her mother’s and father’s faces flashed through her mind. Her brother.

Was it really the knights who had failed her family?

All these years, she'd hated Chaos, had blamed him and his brothers for failing to protect them, had trusted them so little that she'd trained hard to became a fighter in her own right.

Had she been wrong about everything?

Really? Now you’re blaming your family for their own deaths?

Guilt slashed through her and she squeezed her eyes closed. She wasn’t thinking straight. The bond with Chaos was screwing with her head.

Standing, she paced across the room. She needed to get the hell out of her own head, where everything she believed suddenly wasn't black and white anymore, and her emotions were a jumble of twisted and confused feelings and memories.

Changing quickly into leather jeans and a long-sleeve, black T-shirt, she strapped on her weapons, tugged on a jacket, and climbed out her window.

The old iron fire escape protested as she climbed the ladder to the roof. The wind slapped her in the face and she sucked it back, trying again to clear her head. And once again, before she could stop herself, she looked up into the night sky.

Looking for dove-gray wings glinting in the darkness.

Stop it.

The guilt clawing at her intensified.

No. She didn’t want him—the thing fate had put inside her did. It was a deceitful attraction, a false connection, fraudulent lust, and she wanted no part of it.

Being around Chaos for several days had screwed her up, leaving her confused. Her emotions had been on lockdown for so long, she didn't even understand her own thoughts or feelings anymore.

The wind changed direction and a stale, sickly sweet scent hit her. The smell was unmistakable. Death. She looked around, expecting to find a dead pigeon or a rotting stray cat.

Instead she saw a hand stretched out from behind an air-conditioning duct on the rough concrete rooftop.