A Dark Place (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  Oh, God.

  Sal is going to kill him.

  “You fucking bastard! You took advantage of her!”

  No. No. He didn’t.

  The terrorized guests on the terrace run amok as some scatter, fearing nines will be drawn, and this will end with casualties. “I gave the bitch what she wasn’t getting out of you!”

  “Don’t you even fucking go there!”

  “Please stop!” I beg, but my faint demands can’t be heard over the roar of two bucking alpha males. I am rendered useless in my current state. “Please, do not do this! Salvatore! Stop!”

  I glance up to Keishi observing the fight like a grand MMA championship event and swinging his arms with every strike of theirs. There won’t be any wagers tonight amongst The Commission. They’re all rooting for their Golden Boy. They know who wins this fight.

  And so do I.

  With a primitive howl, Sal pummels Durante to the ground as Gaspare bravely steps onto the dance floor-gone-fight ring. “Bitch fucking threw herself at me, you damn daego!”

  “You just said the wrong goddamned thing, fucker!”

  Oh. Shit.

  I turn into Reo Sato when Sal lunges on top of Durante and pummels all of his primal fury into the man. Blood splatters onto Sal’s fist as I release a blood curdling scream for it all to end. He’s going to kill Durante Costa at my home if I don’t do something.

  Sal is an assassin…a killer…a monster….a Nero.

  And my husband is the Capo.

  I’ve never witnessed him quite like this.

  From under Sato’s jacket, I pull out the gun and fire it into the air three times as Gaspare and Oscar contain the madman that Sal has become, and Alessi grabs Durante.

  “The party is over,” I announce with embarrassment. “The meeting with The Commission is through. Go home. I’m sorry for wasting your time!”

  I stride up the stairs with a newfound determination of what I am up against when an enlivened Sofu reaches for me. “You will be the Lotus, Iris.”

  “Then, I do it alone.”

  58

  Raising Hell

  The Butterfly

  “Why was he even here, Masa?” I scream in my wing of the house. “My ex shouldn’t be staying in my palace, Gifu, or even Japan!”

  “You do not own the country, Lotus.”

  His attempt to bring me down a few notches only infuriates me more as I slip off my shoes and head for the door. “Where are you going?”

  “To kick my husband to the curb!”

  “I thought he was your ex?” Masa sarcastically baits.

  Slowly, I turn back to him. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours,” he says with a stern look, “when you aren’t being a succubus.”

  “You’re damn lucky; my shoes are already off!”

  Through the palace, I trample over to the East wing. I rush through the library and living room to the grand kitchen. Under the dim sconce lighting, I gasp at Sal with his white dress shirt unbuttoned. The sleeves are rolled as his hands soak in a bowl of ice water.

  He glances over to me. “You can talk to me.”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “Not according to the text I just got from Masa.”

  “Goddammit!” I hiss. “What does a girl have to do to get fucking loyalty?”

  He shrugs, popping his jaw and looking away. “Maybe prove loyal.”

  Desperate to understand, I ask, “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t shown up to be the most reliable of leaders,” he tenderly critiques, biting his lip and lifting his brow. “You should have told me about the baby before starting a media frenzy.”

  “And why should I have done that?”

  “Gee,” he snidely remarks. “Because I am your fucking husband. We could’ve covered this up. I could’ve played the Daddy role to a child that wasn’t even mine to the hilt, but you didn’t give me that opportunity. And now, because of all of that—which everyone knows about thanks to you—no one except for fucking Servet trusts your ability to be faithful.”

  “You weren’t faithful, either!” I snap back. “You stuck your dick in Rowan Tully the second you could!”

  “Wait!” he yells, lifting his hands from the ice water so he can speak properly. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Time the fuck out. You do not get to question my infidelity when you made it perfectly clear where you stood.”

  “I don’t?” I sass, tossing him a towel. “Seems I already did.”

  “Thank you,” he says, catching it between his forearms. His fingers and hands are bruised and swollen as he attempts to dry his hands. He grimaces through the pain. “I appreciate it.”

  “Stop!” I dash to his side to help him. Carefully, I dry his mangled hands and spot the rings—his wedding band with me, the commitment band with Deacon, and the ruby ring inlaid with a golden crab from Cristos—sitting on the table. “You need to get to a doctor.”

  “I need more than a doctor,” he softly replies. “One of the grafts fucking snapped or shifted or something. Maybe it’s just trauma and swelling. I don’t fucking know. They hurt like a bitch.” My eyes blink up to his emeralds as he whispers, “But not nearly as much as losing you.”

  The Master

  “What are you going to do?” she asks, holding my hands in her palms. “Where are you going?”

  “I am about to go pack my things and leave.”

  “Do you have your splints?”

  “Ya,” I reply, nodding. “I’ll get the soft ones on until I can get into seeing Tristan.”

  She pauses. “Are you sure seeing Dr. Tristan Kerris is the thing to do with something this important?”

  “I am absolutely 100% certain Tristan is the surgeon for this, considering more than half of the dirt I had on Jack was from his younger brother.”

  Her shocked expression earns a smirk from my lips, and she giggles. “You are such a fucker.”

  Still smiling, I close my eyes and lift my brows, agreeing with her assessment. “And you are still the most beautiful bitch on the planet. I’m going to fucking miss you.”

  Her hand caresses my cheek. “I’m always going to love you, Sal.”

  “It’s not enough anymore, though,” I admit with remorse. “Good luck with the rest of the pregnancy. You’re getting close. Seven months down. Only two to go. I should be leaving now.” I pull my hands away from her grasp as she lowers her head and sniffles. I ease past her. “Don’t ever think that I don’t love you or that I wasn’t there for you because my only goal in this life is protecting you. It was always about you, Iris.”

  She blinks up in tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Fucker better not hurt you.” I give a menacingly dreadful gaze as I shake my head. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

  Pressing her heart-shaped lips together, she nods. I turn my back on her and feel the hot stream of tears running down my cheeks. Leaving her—hurts. Being without her—hurts. Losing her—will kill me.

  “Sal…”

  “Yes, Ma’am?” I respond, memorizing every curve of her adorable figure. She blinks several times as the tears drip onto her white silk dress. “I would’ve given up everything for you.”

  She breathes and opens and closes her mouth several times. “Get those hands checked out.”

  “I will,” I casually answer, saying goodbye to my wife, our love, and the future. “I love you, Kettles. Keep your head high and your back straight. Don’t let the assholes bring you down.”

  “I’ll soar.”

  “Just like a butterfly…”

  Walking away, I refuse to stop, fearing I will collapse to my knees and wail like a toddler who dropped their bear in the mud. Or the kid who lost his ice cream cone. Or the man whose soulmate just abandoned all of our plans.

  I barely make it to the room before the onslaught of emotion paralyzes every thought. I quickly throw my things into the bags despite the throbbing pain in my digits. I strip off the dress shirt and tank top as I hunt fo
r a hoodie in my luggage.

  Falling to my knees, I cry harder than I ever have. “I never thought I would lose you…I never thought we would end up like this…fucking shit…Iris…goddamnit I need you to talk to me.”

  The Butterfly

  My fingers dip into the ice water where his hands have been—to hold onto some of his essence. I blink at the door and back to the bowl as the memories of us flash with lightning speed through my mind.

  “I have to go,” I whisper. “I can’t let him go yet.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Sofu mutters from behind me.

  “Grandfather, it is one o’clock in the morning!”

  “Do you think I have someplace to be at dawn?”

  Through my tears, I laugh, “I suppose not.”

  “And neither do you,” he reminds, waving at the clock hanging on the wall. “Time stops in love. It ceases to exist, Iris.”

  “You loved her…”

  “I did. I loved Aki. And I would give anything for one minute alone with her again. Don’t waste your minutes, Lotus. Choose purposeful intent with them. Make every minute count.”

  “I am having another man’s baby,” I say, continuing the deception. Deacon is right. I started this, and I must finish it. I must finish it because Goblin deserves a chance to live in a world where Delarte Cristos does not exist. And right now, I will prioritize the needs of my child over the needs of my husband. It may not always be such, but I have spent months crafting a splendid showdown to eliminate a King. “I can’t love Sal.”

  He wobbles to the refrigerator and snickers, “You are lying to yourself. You will always love Sal Raniero, even with another man’s baby. I saw the way you looked at him tonight. I see the love for him—deep in your soul—in your eyes now. He consumes your spirit.”

  “Oh, God…you’re right.”

  He smiles and waves me off. “Go! Go! Don’t worry about me. I’m just waiting around until I can dance with Aki in my arms again.”

  I peck a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Sofu.”

  “My gift to you, Lotus,” he replies with a kindness. “Sal is a good man. And a hell of a fighter.” He punches the air with gusto and a grin. “Don’t let him go.”

  Through the hallways, I run as fast as I can with my hand braced beneath my belly. I stand before his door, gathering the strength to tell him how I truly feel. He needs to hear it from me.

  I lift my hand to knock on the door when it opens to a sexy half-dressed man. The sight of his bare chest and the cross on his neck causes my mouth to drop open. “Sal…”

  “Iris?”

  “I was…” we both say at the same time. My hands land in his bandaged palms. I giggle as he smiles.

  “You first,” I say, smiling.

  “I can’t find my hoodie,” he replies. His eyes are bloodshot, and his cheeks are reddened from crying. “I may have left it in the workout room.”

  “I will go check.”

  “Wait,” he interjects. “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to tell you that I love you, too.”

  His gaze flutters over my face. Lifting his hand, he caresses my hairline. “I love you, birthday girl.”

  “What in the hell are we doing?” I ask, spreading my fingers on the wall as Sal’s dick thrusts with decadent hip rolls.

  “Celebrating thirty-two!”

  My eyes roll back from the sheer pleasure that his cock brings. “Are you going to come every birthday?”

  “Ya,” he snorts. “In your hot pussy, I am.”

  “Shit,” I moan in ecstasy. “You have no idea what it’s like to be with you, do you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I am as big as a hot air balloon, and my guy is athletic enough to be doing what you are.”

  “Don’t ask me to finger you.”

  Unable to stop smiling, I mutter, “Not necessary.”

  He pulls out and spins me around before taking my hand and leading me to the bed. I eagerly lay down and spread my thighs. His slow punctuated thrusts serve my body with sensual loving.

  “You said, my guy...”

  My eyes open wide as I stare up at his beaming grin. “Fuck!”

  “So what gives?” he asks, seducing my body with his while his penetrating eyes peel my layers away. “We both know you just fucked up.”

  “You played me!” I whine in a tantrum, understanding he will win this round if I don’t come up with something fast. “Fucking asshole!”

  He snickers, “Tell me the truth, Angel.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” he questions, playing word games, ultimately winning him points on a technicality.

  “Won’t,” I maintain as he stops his happy dick dancing with me. “Because you won’t follow my lead on this one.”

  “Fucking try me, baby.”

  “You will only tell me all the reasons it won’t work. And you won’t play along.”

  “Play along with what?”

  “The fact that I lied!” I squeal, under his interrogation. “God, you infuriate me!”

  His busted hand presses against the side of my belly, and I whisper the only confession that matters. “Yes, Goblin is yours.”

  “… Why?” He furrows his brow. “I’m not connecting your dots.”

  “I need to stop Delarte Cristos. It is my only goal. I cannot let another child be born into the world with the threat of him and his human experiments.”

  “You want me to kill fucking Cristos?”

  “No,” I reply. “I want to do it for you as a gift.” His lips twitch, his nose wiggles and his eyes dart from side to side as his jaw grinds. “Say something.”

  “Let me see if I have got this right,” he mutters, laughing under his breath. I remain pinned by his very hard pierced beast and chiseled hovering frame. “You want Delarte out of the picture, so by saying my baby—mine—is Durante Costa’s, you are luring Muerte away from Delarte.”

  “So he will ignore Cristos,” I offer, filling in the blanks. “I was hoping that Cristos would run to your side, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

  “It would’ve been far less messy to hire a fucking hitman.”

  “I don’t know any of those!” I yell as his eyes widen and his head tilts—like, really? “Okay, I know one.”

  He snarls. “No, baby. You know one very good assassin.”

  “Did Mass not give you my message—in the mizu waiting on the phoenix?”

  “No,” he replies with a serious expression. “Mass told me nothing.”

  “Asshole.”

  Deep in my body and his mind, he shifts his jaw and questions, “Who is catching you once you’re inside?”

  “Gabriel Herrera,” I honestly confide. “Everyone keeps telling me that the Immortal compound is a terrible place to go.”

  “Get in with Salomé. Stay close to Gabe. And don’t ever trust Raze Kola to keep his mouth shut again.”

  “Is he a bad guy?”

  “No, he’s fine. Great guy with lots of really close friends.”

  “Wait…you know him?”

  “Only because you have a rat,” he admits. “Raze called me before the meeting and told me he was coming,” he replies, coughing with a snarl. “I knew about the deal with Servet long before it happened.”

  “Shit!” I frown. “What the fuck do I do with a rat?”

  “Oh, I dunno, probably gonna need another hit from an assassin that you don’t think you have.”

  “I’m so stupid!” I rant, latching my fingers onto his ass. “Are you mad about Raze?”

  “I’m not particularly happy with any of it,” he declares. “I’ll handle your punishment after you give birth to my baby.”

  “Just tell me you are going to play along.”

  He stretches his lips, and one eye squints as he thinks. “Okay, I’ll play along and be your partner in crime, if I can kill Durante Costa, and answer one question.”

  “I already did that,” I complain
. “Are we negotiating this?”

  “We’re going to be negotiating for the rest of our lives.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t fucking what me,” he scolds. I grin at my Master, and he smirks. I have to test him sometimes. “What does Cruz know?”

  That is a complicated question.

  59

  Elastic Sacs

  A Disciple of the Craft

  Dear Salvatore,

  From Berlin, I took my father’s plane to Houston. Between the assault of Hannah Cruz and the disfigurement of Madeline Grace, they aren’t issuing an all-points bulletin on my ass. I strategically played with dolls that I knew would keep their fat lips shut.

  We can’t have the rumor mill churning with the idea that Delarte Cristos’ only son is nothing more than a societal menace. That would be inconvenient for Daddy’s business deals. That would be a media circus for the maestro of the cirque.

  Crows are chasing me.

  But they won’t nab me when the plane touches down. They want to know where I am going. Their curiosity gets the best of them. Their need to know my plan takes root in their minds.

  What if he goes after Iris?

  Certainly, you aren’t that gullible. My wife raised you better than that. You knew better than to think I would play right into your hands. Landing in Japan would end the game. Our cat and mouse would be over, and what fun would that be?

  You knew where I would go.

  I’ll even wager a guess that you knew who my next target was. Not that I have spoken to you or any of The Unholy in months.

  ‘Let Nicky feed on the wretched and weak in Texas ghost towns,’ the brothers of The Unholy encouraged, but the unsuspecting weren’t very sustaining. No killer wants to consume a half-dead girl, so strung out on drugs and alcohol that she can’t feel my love.

  I like victims with vigor.

  Add in some fight, and I’ve got a whole other dimension to enjoy.