Carnal Urges (Queens & Monsters, #2)

by J.T. Geissinger

“You’re awake.” “You sound disappointed.”

Wake up. To your captor. This is your first line to him. And this. This is why Sloan is my all time favorite FMC

“I mean what you did to Kieran’s nose.” “I don’t know a Kieran. Or his nose.” “You don’t remember? You broke it.” “Broke it? No. I would’ve remembered breaking someone’s nose.”

“The drugs?” “Aye.”

My voice climbs in panic. “Oh god. Am I brain damaged?” He arches one dark eyebrow. “You mean more than you were before?” “This isn’t funny.” “How would you know? You’re unironically wearing a child’s Halloween costume. I’d say your sense of humor is as bad as your wardrobe.”

“You’re not afraid.”

“I don’t like you.” That makes me bristle, though I try not to show it. “I don’t like you, either.” “I’m not the one claiming to be so charming.” “A good thing, too, because you’re not.”

Then he exhales and grudgingly releases my wrist. Ha. Get used to losing, gangster. I smile at him and say pleasantly, “Thank you.” He’s wearing the same look my older brother used to wear when we were kids and he was about to deck me for being annoying. Naturally, it makes me smile wider.

“One: I don’t tolerate disobedience. If I give you an order, you follow it.” Magic 8 Ball says: Outlook not so good. “Two: you don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.” In what universe is that happening? Not this one.

His testicles are at about eye level, but I resist the urge to acquaint them with my fist. There’s always later.

I have never been looked at the way Declan is looking at me right now. If an alien spacecraft landed on top of the plane and sucked us inside with a tractor beam, he couldn’t look more confounded. I have to admit it’s pretty satisfying.

“Cool. Thanks. And thank you for not hitting me back. Your boss tells me he doesn’t have the same scruples.”

From the other end of the plane, Declan thunders, “Take your bloody piss!” Shaking my head, I say, “I feel sorry for his mother. She should’ve swallowed instead.” I go into the restroom, the sound of six gangsters’ stunned silence echoing behind me as I close the door.

And then there’s this barmy lass. Chatty, cheerful, and calm, she acts as if she’s starring in a biopic about a beloved historical figure who died at the height of her beauty while saving a group of starving orphans from a burning building or some such noble shite.

I’m curious about her fighting skills, though. She might not remember clobbering Kieran, but I certainly do. In all our years working together, I’ve never seen anyone take him down. I hate to admit it, but it was impressive.

“So, which will it be? One or two?” He cocks his eyebrow and waits for me to respond. Maintaining eye contact, I lift my bound hands and raise a single finger. The middle one.

He interrupts, “What kinds of guns have you handled?” When I blink, he growls, “Answer the fucking question, please.”

“Stavros had rifles lying all over the place. He liked to shoot at fish in the lake.” “Of course he did. Fucking Russians.”

“How do you know I’m not going to shoot you?” “Are you?” I consider it. “Maybe.” “Decide. We don’t have much time.”

“Tell me how it’s possible that you’re not scared of me, or of this situation, or of anything else as far as I can see, and I’ll tell you what’s happening.” I give it serious thought for a moment. “Honestly? I’m just badass like that.”

After a short, disbelieving silence, Declan starts to laugh. It’s a deep, rich, sexy sound, beautifully masculine. I hate myself for liking it.

“They don’t like me.” I stare at him with my lower lip pinched between my teeth. He says drily, “Thank you for showing restraint. It must be incredibly difficult.” “You have no idea.”

“You’re almost as brave as a man.” “What a coincidence, I was just thinking that about you.”

“I keep telling you, gangster. I’m charming. By the time this is all over, you’ll be head over heels in love with me.”

Dude will move heaven and earth for you.

why the hell are you lying on top of me?” He looks vaguely insulted. “To protect you, of course.” “You said this car was armored.” That stumps him for a moment. “Right. Sorry. Instincts.”

“I can spot a fellow smartass a mile away. It’s one of my many talents. If you really want to be impressed, you should watch me play Texas Hold’em. I slay.” Gaze softening, he tilts his head and looks at me. Really looks at me, the way men rarely do, with genuine curiosity.

It’s a miracle this mouthy, overconfident little demon can look so sweet and innocent, but she manages it.

I stand at the edge of the bed and stare down at her, amazed. She didn’t even ask where we are. Or where we’re going. She also didn’t bat an eyelash at all the corpses we left behind us.

His voice an octave lower, he says, “What do you have on beneath?” Breathe. Stay cool. He’s just trying to intimidate you. “Your briefs.” “You’re wearing my underwear?” His gaze flashes up to mine. I never knew blue eyes could burn so hotly, but they do.

“Would you like to know what runs in my family, little cat?” There’s a voice between my legs screaming, Boy, would I! but with a valiant effort, I ignore it.

He inhales against my neck, his nose skimming the sensitive spot underneath my ear. It makes goose bumps break out all along my arms.

Declan does his head tilt thing that he does whenever he’s really looking at me. His eyes are penetrating. Examining. Knowing.

I text back, YOU’RE NOT TALKING TO ME, REMEMBER? She sends back a middle finger emoji. I can’t fucking believe this is my life.

‘I make the best use of what’s in my power, and take the rest as it happens.’” There follows a long silence. It’s not really silent, though. It’s quite loud, actually, loud and cavernous, echoing with his disbelief. “Did you … did you just quote Epictetus?” “You know the Stoics?” “You’re fucking kidding me. You did quote Epictetus.”

This time, he doesn’t moan. He makes a sound like a drowsy bear, a low, masculine rumbling in his chest. “Good?” After a pause, he murmurs, “Good.”

She’s kind. She worries about other people. She notices their pain. She empathizes—even with her fucking kidnapper.

She’s also funny. Funny, quick-witted, and smart. She knows Epictetus, for fuck’s sake, and nobody knows him. Worst of all, she’s completely unflappable. It’s like her superpower. She wakes up in bed with me beside her, and her reaction is a yawn. A fucking yawn. Who is this woman?

Your boss likes to bark orders all over the place, and that’s really not my thing, but you and I are copacetic.” “Copa…” “It means we’re friends.” He couldn’t look more astonished if he tried. “We are?” “Yes.” “Oh.”

That’s just an example. My point being that I’ll honor your requests, because I know you’ll put them to me politely. With respect. Right?” “Uh … right.” He has no idea what’s happening. Honestly, there’s nothing more adorable than a befuddled man. Especially when they’re huge and armed.

He snaps, “What have you done to Kieran?” “Moi?” I say innocently. “Aye, you.” “Whatever can you mean?” He looks suspicious at my tone of wounded surprise. “I mean he came into this room working for me, and he went out of it working for you. He suddenly thinks he’s your goddamn butler!” “I prefer the term ‘majordomo.’” Declan narrows his eyes. “Don’t push your luck, lass.”

“I can honestly say, and I mean this with all sincerity, I’ve never met anyone quite like you, lass.” My smile could blind a man. “You’re welcome. Oh, by the way, I was thinking.” “Did it hurt?” “Look at you go with the snappy comebacks! I’m a good influence on you.” “If this is you being a good influence on me, I should kill myself immediately.”

“Why are you so quiet?” “I don’t plan murder out loud.”

“No, but you mansplaining their deaths as the inevitable fallout from seeing my ass and my smile is. Men pulling guns on each other because a woman smiled in the wrong direction is caused by their infantile egos, unchecked aggression, and overinflated sense of entitlement, not by her.”

Holding his hard gaze, I say more softly, “You know I’m right. And I understand the loss of your men must be hard for you. But people are responsible for their own actions. It’s unfair—not to mention inaccurate—to pin this war on me.” He closes his eyes. He’s silent for what seems like a very long time. I have no idea what he’s thinking, until he says quietly, “Aye.”

There are just some lines that can’t be crossed. I look him straight in his icy blue eyes. “I say this not out of disrespect for you, but out of love and loyalty for my friend. None of your fucking business.”

It happens fast. One moment, she’s on her feet. The next, she crumples to the floor, her legs giving out like they’ve become boneless. Her expression changes in a flash from one of irritation to one of surprise. Not fear. Not shock. Just simple surprise, as if she’s thinking This is new right before she loses consciousness.

“That you’d do that for me.” The way she’s looking at me is odd. She almost looks as if she’s grateful. As if … She likes me. Which is pure fantasy on my part. The woman despises me. Perhaps I’ve hit my head on asphalt, too.

“So you do need me? For what, exactly?” I growl, “Target practice.”

With his hand still on the knob, he says, “If that was a lie, I’ll open that window and push you out.”

I throw my hands in the air. “I’m not invincible!” “So that deal you made with the devil for the power to kill with run-on sentences didn’t include immortality?”

After a long moment when I’m silent, he says, “You’re too quiet for my comfort. What’s going on in that head of yours?” “Your funeral.”