The Siren Series 3: Brandon (A Siren Novel) by Marata Eros

it's biology. Ours .”
    His face is so close I could kiss it.
    Of course, I'm the most impulsive woman alive, so I do.
    Stepping away from Ren, I roll to the balls of my feet and balance my hands on his muscular chest.
    “What?” he whispers, obviously taken aback by me switching gears that fast.
    I give him my lips. My choice. He needs to understand who's the boss.
    Then he kisses me back, and I'm utterly lost.
    My body fits against his perfectly. His arms snap around me, pressing me deeper against him.
    I groan, climbing his body like a monkey. He swings me against his chest and flips my arms behind him. My head is above his, so I mash my lips harder. He answers my hunger.
    Ren clears his throat. “Need to go!”
    His urgent tone chills my passion—barely.
    Embarrassment chokes me.
    Brandon lets me slide down his body. His king-sized erection is a telephone pole between us.
    So awkward. I so want to look.
    But somehow I force my eyes to his.
    “And you deny this?” Brandon sweeps his palm between us.
    I think he's replaced lava for oxygen. I breathe in only the heat of us.
    Can't deny it.
    The sun blinks out behind the trees and Brandon's face falls into shadow.
    He turns to Ren. “You stay here as a meat shield. If you are really her Harborer—”
    “I am,” Ren answers, the clear insult in his voice.
    “Then you will provide a distraction while we escape.”
    “No,” I say.
    Brandon looks at me. He lifts a hand, and I flinch. “I will not harm you.”
    He frowns.
    He slowly lowers his hand until his fingertips brush my cheekbone, and he palms the side of my face. “He must sacrifice himself for your safety. That is his only job.” His eyes search mine for a semblance of reason.
    Ha! I stomp my foot. “No. He goes with, or you don't—I don't know. Any ‘chance’”—I use air quotes—“you think you have with me is null and void. Ren's important.” I glance at him. “He's all the fam I've got. So deal.”
    Frustration pours off Brandon in waves. “I can't believe you are meant for me.”
    I shrug. “Take it or leave it.”
    His hand drops.
    I feel the ghostly brand of his fingertips on my skin.
    “Let's go.”
    Twilight leaks around us in washed tones of bloody scarlet and sherbet.
    Brandon cocks his head to the left. “They're awake.” He grabs my hand and yanks me after him.
    “Ren!” I yell.
    He does a jerky crab-run after us, pain covering his face as each breath causes his healing ribs to scream in protest.
     
    *
     
    “Goddess help me, can we stop yet?”
    “No,” Brandon the Great answers.
    How I can want to hump someone and beat on them at the same time is a mystery.
    I snatch my hand from his. “I want to rest.”
    Ren catches up, doubling over as he gasps for breath.
    “We don't have enough of a head start,” Brandon says.
    I can tell he's being logical, but I'm tired. Logic's not my best thing anyway.
    “I know a place,” Ren says.
    “No,” Brandon answers. “We're going straight to my coven. I have who I came for, and the kiss will provide better protection against the Reapers.” His gaze flicks over me. “Actually, we have Reapers of Druid descent in our coven.”
    What? Nothing makes sense. I'm rebelling. “What if I'm not interested in coming with you?”
    Brandon heaves a huge sigh. “It's not about you being interested . It's about you being safe and accepting we're meant for each other.”
    Oh boy.
    “Listen, you're cute and all, and I dig the whole chemistry thing we have going on, but I'm not a crazy about the ‘ drag her by the hair ’ scene.”
    Brandon rolls his eyes at me. “We're arguing instead of running.”
    “Yup,” I answer.
    “Nova, be reasonable. Please,” Ren asks.
    I give him a sharp look. “Are you better?”
    “Not all the way, but I continue to heal.”
    I turn back to Brandon, taking in his six-foot-eight hotness. Broad shoulders, black eyes. All smolder-y and stuff.
    “Fine.” I fold my arms. “I want Ren with me.”
    The