Home > Miscreants : Next Generation(6)

Miscreants : Next Generation(6)
Author: Natalie Bennett

“I know you heard me calling you.” His fingers held firm as he maneuvered himself in front of me, effectively blocking my path.

I tested his grip by trying to pull free, scowling when it tightened. I lifted my gaze to his, skimming over his shirt-clad chest.

“What do you want?”

“Ah, so you’re at phase three.”

“I’m at what? What’s phase three?”

I tried to pull away again. He tsked at me in mock admonishment. “The more you struggle, the tighter I’m going to hold.”

He emphasized his point by tightening his grip even more. It didn’t hurt, but I knew he could easily change that. As his calloused fingers rubbed against my skin, the thought of using my teeth came and went. If I bit him, he’d bite back harder. I knew from prior experience that was liable to lead to our clothes coming off.

“You don’t need to hold onto me. I’m not going to run away."

“You just were.”

“No, I wasn’t,” I lied. “What do you want, Mal?”

Mal. Because it was either this or Malum these days, and I refused to call him by any other name than his own. At least I could convince myself Mal came from Samael.

“Did you know you go through four phases when you try to be pissed at me?

“One, you’re mad. Two, you’re over it. Three is where you pretend to still be upset.”

“And four?” I drawled dryly.

“That’s when you remember you’re hopelessly in love with me and nothing I say or do will ever change that.”

I kept my face blank. I was well versed in expecting the unexpected when Samael opened his mouth. You never knew what he was going to say until he said it. Phase one through three was bull, but four? That hit much too close to the malignant truth.

“I am mad at you,” I deflected.

“Liar.”

“Don’t you have anything productive to do? Maybe you should go babysit those Neanderthals and tell them to put their dicks away.”

His fingers flexed around my wrist. “You aren’t allowed to talk about dick.”

I would’ve laughed, but I knew he was being serious.

As we grew up, his possessiveness matured right along with us.

I pulled against his grip again, somewhat surprised when he let me go. A little confused but not daring to waste any time pondering his behavior, I continued on my way. I didn’t make it far before his large hands were grasping my hips, easily manipulating my body so that I was facing the opposite direction once more.

I should’ve known this was coming.

Expelling a loud, exaggerated sigh, I peered up at his partially obscured face. The bonfire continued to rage from behind him, the flames casting a faint orange glow onto the path.

He was sporting fresh stubble, bringing attention to a jawline that was to die for. One strand of dark hair had broken free from the swept back style he kept it in and now rested on his forehead.

Samael readjusted his grip, purposely dragging the pads of his thumbs over the skin my midi tank didn’t cover.

“Stop that.”

I slapped at his hands and blocked the shiver that attempted to race down my spine. There wasn’t anything I could do about the goosebumps or the way he made my stomach flip.

“You sure?” he taunted, an edge creeping into his tone. He attempted to repeat the motion with his thumbs.

I grabbed both of his wrists and held them in place to prevent him from doing anything else.

“What do you want?”

“Day after tomorrow, I’m going to oversee a run. Do you need anything?”

A run? Again? He’d just gone out two weeks ago. He was always careful and meticulous about supply grabs. I couldn’t think of a single thing lacking right now.

I didn’t like the idea of him leaving the camp unless necessary. There were way too many assholes that would love to take out the infamously mysterious leader of the Stags and Lazarus.

I kept my lecture to myself, though. It wasn’t as if he’d heed anything I advised. Warnings were nothing but triple dog dares to Samael.

“I do need something…” I trailed off, playing up the small traces of innocence I still possessed.

“Which is?” he asked, back to sounding as impassive as ever.

I smiled sweetly. “My freedom.”

His grip tightened; a quiet laugh unfurled between us, causing my heart to flutter and my stomach to flip again.

“You’re a little too old to believe in shit that isn’t real. Do you want a unicorn, too?”

“Yes, then I can shove its horn up your ass.”

“Where did my sweet girl learn to talk like that?”

“You.”

He laughed and used my grip on his wrists to pull me closer.

“Sammy?” Dawn’s soft voice carried around the partial bend, slicing through the tension that was rapidly rising between us.

Ugh. That nickname made me want to sprint down the path and drop kick her into the bonfire. She was the only other person I knew that called him something close to his real name. I had no idea why he allowed it. He’d despised being called that when we were little. Hated it. I did too. What the hell was Sammy? It sounded like something you’d call a dog.

Ha. I smiled up at him. “Your lover’s calling for her pet. Be a good boy and go see what she wants.”

Catching how bitter I sounded, I cleared my throat and once more attempted to get out of his hold.

He still wouldn’t let me go.

“Something the matter?” I couldn’t see the smirk, but I knew it was there. Of course, he’d detected my disdain. He picked up on practically everything.

“I think you should be more worried about being caught in a compromising position.”

He laughed again and easily broke free of the hold I had on his wrists. Hands slipping around, he applied pressure on the dimples in my lower back and pulled me flush against him. I swallowed, breathing him in as I did.

He always smelled so good. Tonight, the comforting aroma of smoke and flames intermingled with his mint scented body wash.

I brought my palms up to his chest to keep some semblance of space between us, feeling the outline of his physique through the shirt he had on.

Samael wasn’t one of those ridiculously muscular beef-heads that walked around with their arms in the shape of a constipated U. He was muscled and proportionately toned in a way that made you want to run your hands over every inch of him.

Add his ridiculously good looks on top of that, and you had the living, breathing definition of a thirst trap.

“Maybe it’s time she learns the truth. We should let her see how hard I can make you come in sixty seconds.”

I scoffed and leaned back slightly, keeping my mouth away from his. “Do you have to be such a vulgar pig?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t get off on it. I vividly remember a time I fucked you with nothing but my words.”

I remembered that, too. This wasn’t okay, though. That coming from the woman insanely possessive over him. Dawn didn’t deserve to be hurt because of our inability to get our shit together.

“She deserves better than what you’re giving her,” I hissed, hearing soft footfalls approaching.

“You’re right. She should get all the parts of me you lost the privilege of having.”

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