Free Blood Deep (Blackthorn Book 4) by Lindsay J Pryor Page A

more, all of them drawn those past two days, even before she had laid eyes on him. She ran her finger along his jawline, up to his lips, the paper cold and lifeless in comparison. It was unmistakeably him.
    He was a part of it somehow. Though how, where, when and why remained as much a mystery to her as the rest of it – fragments of a puzzle she couldn’t fully understand, was not intended to understand.
    Throwing her sketchbook aside, she fell onto her back to stare up at the beamed A-frame ceiling as she clutched her head. It couldn’t be coincidental – the visions returning only days before and now him appearing soon after. But whether for better or for worse remained as elusive as those visions themselves.
    Hands behind her head, she drew her knees upwards, her feet sliding over the comfort of her duvet before she locked her knees against each other.
    Despite the evidence played out in front of her down in the lounge, her gut still told her there was something different about him. If nothing else, there was definitely something different in her reaction to him – her jealousy at watching Tatum toy with him, at knowing she was with him now, told her that. But beneath the jealousy, something else had stirred – something she hadn’t felt before.
    Because now, alone in her room, the unfamiliar stirring in the lowest depths of her abdomen was undeniable. The heat pooling there as she thought of him not being a kind lover or a gentle lover was unsettling. The back of her neck and her chest surged with heat. Her breathing became shallow. She rested the back of her hand against her forehead, tucked her wrist between her legs as her muscles clenched. She closed her eyes, imagined Eden in her room, his hard body pressed against hers, as it no doubt was against Tatum’s. She imagined it was his hand, not her wrist. Imagined he was there with her now. Imagined what could have happened if she hadn’t warned him off down in the lock-up. When, instead of being intimidated by her strength, the fact she wasn’t human, it seemed to have turned him on more.
    She curled into a foetal position, raised her knees to her chest and slid her wrist back between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling a shot of pleasure deep inside as she lifted the fingers of her free hand to her lips again, lingering on where he had kissed her. Kisses that were now no doubt all over Tatum’s body; Tatum’s lips no doubt tasting every firm, hard and smooth inch of his.
    She yanked her wrist away in frustration. She rolled onto her back, let her legs fall flat, stretching them out with an almost defeatist sigh.
    She forced herself upright, resting back on braced arms, her fingers digging into the duvet.
    Swivelling her legs over the edge of the bed to place her feet on the rug, she gripped the mattress either side of her, her train of thought causing acridity in her mouth.
    He’d been there a few hours and already he was throwing her off balance, daring to penetrate through her well-guarded walls. Only now she felt mocked, discarded, as meaningless a commodity as Pummel instilled into her every day, as she reminded herself what Eden indulging himself with Tatum really meant. Tatum who would leave her signature marks all over his body – marks that would heal far too quickly.
    Somehow she had to get him back to the lock-up as soon as he’d finished. That was unavoidable now, regardless of what her vision of him had meant.
    She stepped over to the window. She gazed across the rooftops and out towards the hub of Blackthorn beyond. Whilst music and yells spilled from rooms below, out of open windows and doors, she rested her head on the bars, breathing in the cool night air as she gazed up at the dense pollution that blocked the stars. It was the busiest time of night but, now more than ever, it still felt like the loneliest place in Blackthorn.
    She made her way into the bathroom and ran herself the luxury of a half-filled, semi-warm bath.