Vein of Love (Blackest Gold Book 1) by R. Scarlett Page A

or anything. I wouldn’t mind being an incubus. All the sexy times and power,” she said, snorting.
    “Trust me, it’s not all great, not when you don’t want randoms. I don’t want to be a damn predator.”
    “Oh my god, please don’t tell me you’ve still got a thing with Evelyn. Isn’t that over yet?”
    “No it’s not over yet. We’re still together, just taking some space for the time being. I’ll figure out a way to keep the daemon safe and still be with her.”
    Lex was silent.
    “I know you don’t like her—”
    “She hates me because she thinks I’m into you. I see you as my damn brother. She needs to calm down,” Lex huffed.
    “She doesn’t hate you.”
    “Whatever. I’m heading out to a house party and then going undercover for a while, so if you don’t hear from me for a few weeks, don’t panic, okay?”
    He would panic anyway. “Sure.”
    “Apologize to Molly,” she warned. He rolled his eyes at her bossy tone.
    “Lex?”
    “Yeah?”
    He swallowed. “Be safe.”
    “Always am.”
    He shoved his phone into his pocket after they’d hung up, surveying the busy avenue up ahead.
    He didn’t want the pressure, he didn’t want to do anything with the daemon—but if he didn’t , he was risking his entire family’s recompense.
    Tensley breathed in sharply, stretching his fingers as the nicotine unfurled throughout his bloodstream, giving him that buzzy, lightheaded sensation. If only it could burn away his emotions, burn it all so he didn’t care any more.
    He threw the cigarette to the ground, stubbed it with the toe of his shoe, and imagined it was her.

 
     
     

     
     
     
     
    AMBIENT LIGHT FROM the hallway assaulted Molly’s eyes, and she peeled one open.
    Shit, I fell asleep. Shit, shit, shit!
    The rest of the room was dark, and she saw a figure by the door, framed by the light from the hallway.
    Her heart stalled, then rebooted to the point of shattering her ribcage.
    Tensley.
    He walked through the darkness, and she couldn’t help but note how he was shrugging out of his shirt, the defined muscles of his torso bunching and flexing with every movement. Oh god. Dark lines tattooed his sides. She wanted to— stop it Molly! No psychopaths, remember?
    With one shallow breath, she pulled herself together. She’d been prepared, fighting sleep, the knife clenched in her shaking hand—and now, after a few minutes of dozing, she was vulnerable. Attempting to go unnoticed, she slid her hand across the silk covers, searching for the blade.
    “I hope you don’t snore,” he said in a husky whisper, stalking to the bed. He leaned over her at the same moment she finally grasped the sharp edge of the knife, and she could smell his sweat, pungent and masculine.
    She twisted the knife into her palm and spoke with as much steadiness possible. “No, I don’t snore. Do you?” For once, the darkness was her friend; he wouldn’t be able to see her red cheeks and pressured, stone-hard face. If anything, he would end up laughing in it.
    Which he did anyway. “Do I look like someone who snores?”
    She gnawed the inside of her cheek. “Maybe.”
    He stood up to his full, imposing height. “ Maybe? ” He looked across the bed at the books sprawled out on the comforter. Oops. “Did you take my books?”
    “Uh—”
    “ Don’t touch my things. If you want something, ask for it.” With a gruff curse, he tossed the books back into his suitcase.
    Her grip tightened on the blade. “I wanted answers,” she whispered.
    He watched her intently, hands beginning to tremble—trying to hold his anger at bay, she guessed. “Tell your father that if he steps out of line again, I won’t stop the blade at his throat. What the hell was he thinking? If I hadn’t talked my father down, he would have decapitated him . And the fucking poison? If he pulls that shit again, he’s done. Got it?”
    Molly flinched. He had admitted to saving her father’s life and in the same breath threatened it