The first touch of him is sensational in every way. It’s like my skin is coming alive, tingling with this taste of the forbidden.
Magnus seems to sense the excitement in me and feeds it, urging my lips apart so I can consume more. His tongue leads mine in a wicked dance performed to some tune that only his body seems to know.
The hand on my chin slides along my jaw, fingers blazing a path down to my neck. It brushes past the heavy earring causing it to swing uninhibitedly, and my ear begins to tingle. When his palm is finally at my neck, cupping the nape in his massive grip, he brings me into him—almost painfully.
That’s when I feel the danger.
His kiss isn’t sensual, it’s demanding. His body comes closer, pressing my back into the railing behind me. I feel his dick, thick and throbbing with some violent surge of need, force itself into the soft flesh of my stomach. The thumb of the hand gripping the back of my neck makes a menacing trek back over my jawline to rest against my throat.
Then, he squeezes.
At first, I think it’s just some unbridled passion, an uncontrollable reflex that has him wanting all of me. Then he pulls away, and I see the danger in his dark eyes.
He knows…
That kiss was just him swimming right beneath me in the final moments before the attack. Now, I’m trapped in his jaws as he takes the first bite of me.
“I think it’s time you told me the truth, Sloane.”
But what can I tell him that he doesn’t already know? The fact that he’s gone this far means that he must at least suspect a good portion of what I’ve been after since yesterday, even if he doesn’t know the details.
“If you think I won’t end you, you’re sorely mistaken. Don’t think your gender or any hint of attraction I feel toward you will stop me.”
Despite myself, a thrill of pleasure flows through me.
I should tell him. Besides, I’ve already learned what I need to for the man in New York. It was practically laid out before me tonight.
I blink.
It was all too easily laid out for me. Even the journalist was practically force-fed a story to report on. If I give the man in New York false information, he’ll kill both Theo and me as sure as night takes over the day.
But will Magnus?
He expects me to talk, especially after what I overheard last night. Tonight’s bluff of a dinner was just a precursor to this moment.
But I can bluff too. It’s the only way I’ve stayed ahead of the game this far.
“Go ahead,” I whisper underneath the press of his thick thumb.
Magnus’s eyes sharpen in surprise, then flash in anger. Neptune himself couldn’t match the storm that brews there.
Then, he squeezes tighter…
Part II The Predator
Chapter Thirty Magnus
Sloane’s pulse quickens underneath my fingers.
Something about it has me strangely excited in a depraved way. The reluctant part of me knows it’s because she’s once again surprised me.
She has no reason to hold back the truth any longer. And yet she persists, even under the threat of death. I squeeze tighter, and her eyes falter just enough to demolish my willpower.
I let go, and Sloane gasps for breath. I’m not about to let her off that easily. Grabbing her wrist, hard enough to snap it if I so choose to, I practically drag her back inside.
I’m not stupid enough to dump her on one of the couches in the large seating area to properly interrogate her. My crew are professional enough to know that I demand privacy, but they are only human. I don’t need any casual witnesses to what I’m about to do to Sloane.
She stumbles after me down one of the hallways into the master bedroom. I swing her inside and slam the door behind us, making sure to lock it. From there, I drag her to the bed and throw her onto it.
Sloane stares up at me as angry as a wet cat. When I proceed to take off my jacket and loosen my tie, it rapidly transforms into fear. She scrambles across the massive bed, pressing herself into the headboard.
A wicked grin comes to my face as I loosen the cuffs of my sleeves.
Now, the look in Sloane’s eyes is pure venom. She thinks she knows what’s about to happen, and she plans on fighting me tooth and nail. It’s only when I take a seat in one of the armchairs that she relaxes, eyes still trained on me like a wary rabbit.
“Tell me everything,” I say in a voice that dares her to defy me.
Panic touches her eyes, just long enough for me to catch. It’s replaced by a cool confusion, so manufactured I almost laugh.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I debate telling her what I know about her brother and Jan, then think better of it. No need to show my hand. After all, what she holds back is just as important as what she decides to reveal.
“Tell me what really brought you to Monte Carlo. Tell me why you were down near the marina looking at my boat that morning. Tell me what it is you’re looking to get from me. Most importantly, tell me why.”
She considers me for a long moment, sitting up straighter against the headboard. “I already told you most of that. I was here on vacation. Running into you was fortuitous. I took advantage of the moment. Isn’t the hefty retainer you left with my firm in New York enough to convince you? It would be incentive enough for anyone.”
I shoot out of the chair and storm toward her. The panic is back in her eyes as she watches me. Standing back at the head of the bed, I stare at her, my arms crossed over my large chest.
“Are you sure that’s the game you want to play with me,
