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“What will you do if I don’t show up? Spank me, Daddy?” No reaction. The man was a statue carved of stone. Except for that slight twitch in the fingers of his left hand. Barely noticeable, but there. I opened the door and strode outside, but not before he whispered, “Don’t tempt me.”
“They hate you, daughter, for what you are. They will kill you if given the chance. Do not let them. Do not fight the pull of who you were born to be.”
“Apparently, your milkshake brings all the supernatural boys to the yard, Sunday. But which one gets the cherry?”
“She’s jealous. Thorne wants you, and he’s supposed to want her.” “He wants to eat me. There’s a difference.” “Oh, he wants to eat you, all right. That’s the problem.”
Kingston must have read it in my body language. A shudder ran through him, as if he’d reached a decision he wasn’t entirely sure about. Then, still holding my gaze, he slowly tipped his chin up, baring his throat to me in submission. My heart fluttered, frantic and wild. He’d submitted. Wait. He’d submitted? Holy shit. “Only for you, Sunday.” His words were breathy, as though this had cost him everything.
“Sunday,” I said with a sigh, “what you don’t realize is it doesn’t matter. I chose you. That’s it for me. You might have other mates, but I am yours. Wherever you go from here, I’ll follow. I’m not going to run from it.”