My mouth falls open.
There's no smile on his face, no hint of humor in his even tone, just dead (pardon the pun) seriousness and a mild killing intent.
"You can't kill someone for their house."
"Why not?"
"Because it's their house, Caine. They live there." I pause. "At least sometimes." Rich people probably have a lot of houses.
Which is not the point. The point is morality and we can't just kill people to have a house on the ocean in today's society, wolf shifter or not.
He dips his head and presses a kiss to my forehead. Then the bridge of my nose. Then my left cheekbone. "If I can't buy you what you want," another kiss, this one on the curve of my jaw, "I'll take it for you."
My pulse hammers against the spot on my neck that still throbs from his bite. His lips trail down the other side now, mirroring his earlier path, and the contrast between the tenderness of his mouth and the absolute insanity of his words makes my head swim.
