Insatiable Craving: 2 (Insatiable Nights) Read Free

off steam on stage.”
    She snickered and planted her hands on her hips. “Yeah. How’s that been working out for you?”
    “Just fine until you start shoving goddamned groupies at my dick!”
    “I didn’t shove her anywhere, asshole! I… Gently nudged. Implications were made.” Her eyes narrowed and she pointed an accusatory finger at him. “And don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed her. I watch you. I watch you watch her! Every time she comes in, she’s all you look at. I chose her for a reason.”
    “Sacrificial lamb?”
    “Dammit, Razor, it is not healthy for you to keep all this shit bottled inside.”
    “I don’t recall there being any health benefits to ripping a girl into tiny pieces, do you?”
    Aria had the audacity to roll her eyes, which only fueled Razor’s outrage. Dammit, she knew what this meant for him. What it meant at all being in the open. And while she’d been a steady, reliable friend most of the way, her tendency to get on kicks where she swore she knew what was best for him was one of her more annoying qualities.
    Though honestly, everything Aria had said or done as of late had been annoying.
    Razor stole another glance at the brunette. The way his wolf craved her, getting her up close and personal would be the worst of all bad ideas. No matter what he wanted—he’d given up his right to see through his own desires a long fucking time ago. Aria wanted him to get laid. She’d chosen the right person to tempt him with but for all the wrong reasons.
    Getting that close to someone he wanted so much could only end badly.
    “She’s not my type.” Cop-out.
    “If she wasn’t your type, you wouldn’t go all cartoon coyote every time you look at her.”
    “I’m more afraid of going real coyote.”
    “Raz—”
    “She’s not my type. End of story.”
    Granted, it had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to seriously consider the fairer sex enough to give his type any reflection. Once upon a time, his type had been sorority girls who had a habit of leaving their panties at home. What would have been called his college years had been his sexual awakening, as it was for most normal people. But most normal people didn’t have the tendency to leave bits and pieces of their girlfriend strewn across a dorm room.
    Yeah, life stopped being normal then.
    Razor ran his hand over his jaw, his fingers combing through four days’ growth of beard.
    “Look,” he said slowly, doing his best to keep the reins on his temper. “I know you think you’re helping, but trust me when I say—”
    “You’re full of shit?” Aria offered. “Raz, if you were gonna fly off the handle like some homicidal flying-off-handle guy, you would’ve done it already. How many times have I irritated the living piss outta you?”
    His lips quirked, a reluctant chuckle climbing up his throat. “Too many to count.”
    “And how many times have you torn my throat out?”
    “In my head or in reality?”
    “That’s not funny.”
    A domineering presence filtered into the room, and before Razor knew it, his feet had been dragged along the floor and his back was against the wall. A crunching pressure found its way to his throat.
    Draken.
    “Do not,” commanded the irate god, “speak to my Arianna in such a way!”
    Aria rolled her eyes again. “Oh brother.”
    A gargled hiss climbed up his throat but died before it could know air. Razor gasped and heaved, his arms flailing uselessly and his legs kicking out but never meeting their target. Hard to meet a target who didn’t have corporeal form—a target confined to an amulet. How Draken had managed to master telekinesis when he wasn’t even supposed to know English was a major point of contention. Razor had intended to petition Aria’s coven for months now to get the insipid god under control.
    Especially as the wolf in his chest never failed to smell a challenge and rear up for a fight. Goddamn Draken. Anytime anyone muttered anything the beast