Marked by Three

ChapterThree

Kira

I just kept staring at those two texts until the words started swimming.

Zane: Hope you had a good time tonight, Kira. First drink’s always free at Inferno. Next round I’d love to buy it for you myself.

Damon: I can’t stop thinking about you. About the taste of you. Sleep well, Ki. Dream of me.

Two guys. Two totally different vibes. And me? Zero clue what to do with any of it.

I should’ve deleted them both. Should’ve set some kind of boundary, told them both I needed space to get my head straight. Instead I just kept rereading, feeling my body react all over again, Damon’s icy fingers ghosting over my skin, Zane’s warm palm against mine.

Eventually I just powered off the phone and shoved my face into the pillow like that would fix anything.

This was nuts. Literally a week ago I was fine, lonely maybe, but focused. Work, sleep, repeat. No drama, no mess. Now I’ve got two stupidly attractive men circling me and I can’t even form a coherent thought when I’m near either one.

Sleep? Yeah, right. Every time I shut my eyes it was ice-blue staring into my soul or warm gold-brown crinkling at the corners when he smiled. Cold hands pinning me, warm ones guiding me. A low voice promising to wreck me or a smooth one just asking for a real shot.

Morning hit and I’d maybe scraped together two hours of actual sleep. Felt like I’d been run over.

My pone had three missed calls from Jazz and a text waiting.

Jazz: You make it home okay?? Call me when you’re up. We gotta talk about Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Runs-the-Hottest-Club-in-Town.

I actually smiled even though I felt like death. Called her back.

“Finally!” she practically shouted. “I was two seconds from driving over. How you holding up?”

“Exhausted. Confused. Did I seriously spend like an hour dancing with the club owner last night?”

“Yup. And he was glued to you. Couldn’t look away for a second.” She paused. “Kira… I know you said it’s complicated, but that guy? He was gone for you. Like, properly gone.”

“I know.”

“So… what’s the plan?”

I thought about Damon’s voice in my ear, the way he’d growled mine like it was a fact. “No idea.”

“Well, you better figure it out quick because I don’t think Club Owner is the type to fade into the background.” She sighed. “I gotta run to the hospital. You’re off today, yeah?”

“Finally.”

“Rest. Think. Maybe text Mr. Nightclub back.” She laughed. “See you tomorrow.”

After we hung up I dragged myself into the shower. Hot water helped a tiny bit, but my brain was still a mess.

I needed to pick a lane. Or at least figure out what lane I even wanted.

Damon? God, yes. The man had given me the best orgasm of my life in a freaking supply closet. Every time those pale eyes locked on me I felt like nothing else existed.

Zane? I barely knew the guy. But that easy warmth, the way he looked at me like I was actually interesting… it stuck with me.

My phone buzzed.

Damon: Are you awake?

Heart did a stupid little flip. I shouldn’t answer. I should take a beat, think, breathe…

Me: Yes.

Damon: Have dinner with me tonight.

Not a question. Classic Damon. And instead of being annoyed I just felt this warm curl of excitement low in my belly.

Me: Okay.

Damon: I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice.

Bossy as hell. And yeah… it turned me on more than it should’ve.

The rest of the day was pure anxious chaos. I cleaned my apartment like it was on a reality show deadline, tried to read, gave up, then stood in front of my closet at six having a full-on meltdown over what “something nice” meant to a guy like Damon Volkov.

Ended up going with the deep blue dress from that hospital fundraiser last year. Classy, not over-the-top, neckline modest, hem just above the knee. Hair down in loose waves, makeup light.

Doorbell rang at seven on the dot.

I opened the door and legit forgot how lungs worked.

Damon in a black suit that looked custom-made for sin, white shirt open at the collar, no tie. Sharp. Dangerous. Way too perfect.

Those pale eyes dragged over me slow, and the heat behind them almost buckled my knees.

“You look beautiful,” he said, voice low.

“Thanks. You look…” I fumbled. “Really good.”

One corner of his mouth ticked up. “Ready?”

I took the hand he offered. That familiar cold shocked through me again. He caught the shiver and smiled, just a little.

“Cold?”

“No. You are.”

“I run cold.” His thumb stroked over my knuckles. “Does it bother you?”

“Nah. Just… different.”

He led me to this sleek black Mercedes that probably cost more than my entire life. Opened the door for me like it was nothing. I sank into leather and new-car smell and tried not to freak out.

“Where are we going?” I asked once we were moving.

“Somewhere private. So we can actually talk.”

That could be sweet. Or terrifying. His tone wasn’t giving me clues.

We drove quiet through the city, lights streaking past. Eventually he pulled into the garage of one of those stupid-expensive downtown high-rises.

“You live here?”

“Yes.” He came around, opened my door again. “I figured privacy was better for what we need to say.”

Privacy. In his apartment. Where there was definitely a bedroom.

I should’ve pushed for a restaurant. Public. Safe. Neutral.

I didn’t.

“Okay.”

Elevator ride to the penthouse was dead silent and thick with tension. I could feel him watching me. When I finally glanced over, his face gave nothing away.

The apartment was insane. Floor-to-ceiling windows, killer view of Seattle all lit up. Black and gray everything, furniture that looked too expensive to sit on, art I was afraid to breathe near.

“Wine?” he asked.

“Yeah. Please.”

He poured two glasses of red in this open kitchen that screamed money. When he handed me mine our fingers brushed and… zap… electricity.

“Sit,” he said, nodding at the couch.

I did. He sat close enough that I could feel the chill coming off him, but not touching.

“I need to be straight with you about something,” he said after a long beat.

My stomach dropped. Here it comes. The backpedal. The “this can’t happen” speech.

“Okay.”

He turned to face me fully. “I’m not good at this… at relationships, at normal. I keep everything controlled. I don’t let people close. I don’t get attached. And I definitely don’t lose it the way I did with you in that closet.”

“Damon…”

“Let me finish.” His jaw flexed. “You scare the hell out of me, Kira. Not because of you. Because of what you do to me. I look at you and I want things I haven’t wanted in… longer than I care to admit.”

My pulse was hammering. “What things?”

“Everything.” His hand lifted, cold palm cupping my cheek. “I want to take you to bed and map every single inch of you. I want to wake up with you tangled in my sheets. I want to watch you sip coffee and ramble about your shift.” His thumb grazed my bottom lip. “I want all of you, Ki. And I don’t share.”

That raw possessiveness should’ve sent me running. Instead it lit me up.

“I want you too,” I whispered.

“But?”

How did he always know?

“But we barely know each other. You call me Ki when no one else does. You look at me like you already know everything. And sometimes, Damon… you don’t feel…”

“Human?”

The word just hung there.

He didn’t flinch. Just gave this small, humorless smile.

“Perceptive,” he murmured.

Before I could ask what the hell that meant, his mouth crashed into mine.

This kiss was slower than the others. Deeper. Like he was trying to carve himself into me. Cold hands framing my face, tongue sliding against mine until I moaned into his mouth.

He pulled me onto his lap without breaking contact. I straddled him, felt how hard he was, gasped when his hands gripped my hips and rocked me exactly where he wanted.

“Damon,” I panted as his mouth moved to my neck, teeth grazing my pulse. “We should… slow down…”

“Do you want to slow down?” Cold fingers slipped under my dress, tracing up my thighs. “Say stop and I stop.”

I didn’t say stop.

His phone started ringing.

He ignored it.

It rang again.

“Damon… your phone…”

“Don’t care.” His mouth back on mine.

Third ring. Then it just kept going. Insistent. Urgent.

He broke away with this low, frustrated sound that didn’t sound entirely human. He glanced at the screen, and his face went dark.

“I have to take this.” He said, his voice tight. “I’m sorry.”

He set me gently aside and stepped to the window.

“This better be important.” Pause. “When?” His tone went ice-cold. “Twenty minutes.”

He hung up, turned back to me, and I saw something new in those pale eyes.

Fear.

“I have to go. Emergency at the hospital.”

“I’ll come…”

“No.” Sharp. Then softer. “No. It’s… complicated. My driver will take you home.”

“Your driver?”

He was already on the phone. Minutes later a black town car was waiting downstairs.

“I’m sorry,” he said, kissing me quick and hard. “I’ll explain. All of it. I promise. Just go home tonight. Stay there.”

“Damon, you’re freaking me out.”

“I know. And I hate it.” He cupped my face one last time. “Trust me. Just for tonight. Please.”

I nodded even though I didn’t understand a damn thing.

The driver didn’t speak the whole ride. When I got inside my apartment I was shaking with lust, confusion, fear, take your pick.

I changed into pajamas. Was about to crawl under the covers when my phone lit up.

Unknown: I know it’s late, but I can’t get our dance out of my head. Coffee sometime? Somewhere quiet, no music, just us talking? – Zane

I stared at the screen.

One man cold and intense and full of secrets.

One man warm and open and so damn easy to like.

And me stuck in the middle with no idea which one was going to ruin me first.