by Kit Rocha
No more walls. Relief flooded her along with dizzy joy. The marks were like the ring, a symbol—a way to tell each other and the world that they were building a life. That walking away wasn’t an option, and they knew they were so much less apart than they were together.
Words couldn’t express how she felt, so she kissed him instead.
Finn groaned, spearing his fingers into her hair, tangling them deep as he licked past her lips and into her mouth, as he claimed her more surely with one kiss than he ever had with words.
All the talking, and it always came down to this—they needed each other more than anything else in the world. They’d been torn apart and thrown back together, but underneath all the machinations of Fate, one fact remained.
They belonged in each other’s arms.
“You and me,” she whispered against his lips. “Forever.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Trix’s new act was bringing down the damn house.
Watching from the side of the stage didn’t give Finn the best view, but it was his favorite. Especially when the dance ended and she hopped into his arms, her eyes full of fire and her body already hungry.
She was winding toward that point now, tugging down the zipper running up the side of her leather pants. She started slow, then almost ripped it away, and another round of cheers rose from the crowd.
No feathers and fans tonight. She was pure O’Kane, leather and steel and an edge of danger that would slice up any man who got too close. It was intoxicating, especially when she tilted back her head and Finn caught sight of his ink wrapped around her throat. Ace was a true fucking artist—from this distance, she could have been wearing the choker he’d tattooed onto her skin.
She reached for the other zipper but lingered with her fingers on the tab. She rolled her head back, those wild red curls spilling over her shoulders, and met his eyes.
Then she licked the corner of her mouth.
Arousal stirred. So did his dick. She knew he was watching, and he knew what that meant. Her performance would be hotter. Wilder. Every grinding thrust, every tease designed to taunt him.
If she pounced on him when she came off that stage, they’d end up in the closet again. Judging from the predatory look in her eyes, she wouldn’t be the one tied up this time.
There were worse ways to kill an afternoon than letting his lady have her way with him.
Trix stripped off her pants and threw them. The leather landed in a heap at Finn’s feet, and he bit back a grin. Yeah, she was coming for him, all right.
She dropped to her knees, rocking her body as the song wound to a close. Crumpled dollar bills hit the lip of the stage, along with more than a few credit sticks. The lights cut out as the music ended with a heavy bass beat, and the noise of the audience’s reaction almost drowned out the sound of her heels as she walked off stage.
And straight for him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his in the darkness. “Did you like it?”
Like was a weak-ass word. It didn’t come close to getting the job done. Most words didn’t, so he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her so he could nuzzle the ink that said it all. “I think I like you showing off your dangerous side.”
“Sometimes.” The lights came up again as stagehands began to prep for another show, and she gasped and trailed her fingers down to his upper arm. “Ace finished the color.”
He glanced at his right arm and smiled. The new sleeve had been taking form over the past two weeks, joining up with his—as Ace so bluntly put it—inferior artwork and stretching down to his new cuff. “Yeah,” he said, holding it out so she could admire the ink.
So she could admire herself. Ace had worked magic, designing a likeness of her posed as a classic pinup, covered by her peacock-feather fan—and nothing else. “I like having you on my skin.”
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. Then her brow furrowed, and she laughed. “Is it weird to say that? It feels a little vain.”
“Better you than some lug in the bar,” Finn replied, fighting to keep his voice deadly serious. It was hard, because he wanted to smile. He was smiling all the damn time now, like he was strung out on Sector Five’s finest happy pills. “They get too complimentary, I’ll just have to punch them in the teeth.”
“Liar. You love it.” She nipped at his lower lip. “You love me.”
“Damn right I do.” With her ear so close to his mouth, it was too easy. He gave it a little tug with his teeth, just to get her squirming, and laughed. “Wanna go sully the storage closet again?”
“Christ, yes.” She wiggled against him, sliding her hands beneath his shirt. “I can’t wait to get you naked. Or half naked. Or shove your clothes out of the way. Whatever works.”
“Hit the brakes, Red.” Bren snagged her silky green robe from the hook by the dressing room door and held it up. “Your boy’s got work to do.”
Finn groaned. “Are you kidding me, Bren?”
“Nope.” Mad leaned against the wall and grinned with a friendly ease Finn wouldn’t have expected a few weeks ago. Mad’s warmness seemed to grow in proportion to Jade’s delight in his latest updates to her roof garden. If it would keep the peace, Finn would help her grow a jungle. “Welcome to life as an O’Kane,” Mad continued. “Sometimes we play, and sometimes we bust heads.”
Sighing, Finn looked back to Trix. “Sorry, baby. I guess I’m busting heads.”
“It’s okay. I’ll get a drink with the girls.” She leaned in to whisper against his ear. “I’ll keep the pearls handy, though.”
The mental image that conjured threatened to weaken his knees. But beneath it was something so much more precious—her confidence and trust. She could let him walk away, even if a job might earn him a few bruises, because she believed he was coming back to her.
He still wasn’t sure he deserved it. After all, it was more than a second chance. It was a woman putting her heart into his hands, though he’d dropped it the last time. It was Trix giving him more than a family or a home or her love.
She believed in him. So he’d spend the rest of his life not letting her down.
Her body dragged against his in a hundred delicious ways as he lowered her to the floor, and he swallowed another groan. Tonight would be a good lesson in the frustrations and rewards of delayed gratification. Hopefully, she’d have mercy on him.
But if she didn’t, that was okay, too. Even if she didn’t let him come fast, he’d always come home.
Want to find out what Zan's going to do with his second chance at life? The story continues with Beyond Possession!
Before You Leave Sector Four
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Interested in more books in the BEYOND series?
The Beyond novels: #1: Beyond Shame, #2: Beyond Control, #3: Beyond Pain, , #4: Beyond Jealousy, #5: Beyond Addiction, #6: Beyond Innocence, #7: Beyond Ruin While each novel focuses on one relationship & happy ending, each book in the series builds on the previous one, making them best read in order.
The Beyond Novellas: #3.5: Beyond Temptation, #4.5: Beyond Solitude, #5.5: Beyond Possession, #6.5: Beyond Ecstasy Each novella focuses more closely on a single couple, and is meant to be accessible to new readers. You can read a novella without knowing the series well.
Beyond Shame, Beyond Control, and Beyond Pain are now available in a discounted bundle.
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Not ready to leave Sector Four? Turn the page for a preview of what's next for the O'Kanes...
Beyond Possession
Tatiana Stone has work
ed hard to establish herself as one of Sector Four's most skilled crafters. All she wants is peace--but the sins of her father haunt her. He ruled the sector as a petty tyrant before the O'Kane takeover, and plenty of people harbor bitter memories of his cruelty. Especially now that Tatiana’s beloved baby sister has fallen in with a man who wants to start a revolution.
Zan failed his boss once, and it won't happen again. So when Dallas O'Kane asks him to defuse the rebellion brewing in the sector, he’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done--including seduce Tatiana. It’s the perfect opportunity to get closer to the pretty crafter and complete his mission. But what he discovers is a fiery, passionate woman--and an affair that could destroy them both.
The monthly meeting of Sector Four's merchants was going about as well as Tatiana expected, which was a bad sign. Life in the sectors had taught her to lower her expectations bit by bit until her bar for decent behavior ended up in the dirt.
That didn't stop people from digging under it.
Holding the shovel today was Wallace, a morality-impaired smuggler turned trader. He'd been digging himself into holes since he'd claimed Walt Misham's spot in the market and the sheen of respectability that came with it. Stupid, but not unusual. Criminals who climbed too high got greedy, and greedy criminals got dumb. A dangerous problem, but self-correcting. In Sector Four, getting dumb usually got you dead.
Wallace's inevitable demise wouldn't have bothered Tatiana at all if her baby sister hadn't decided to fall cross-eyed in love with him.
"It isn't right," he was saying. "O'Kane gets in some kind of sector war, smashes up half the market district, and who has to clean it up? Not him, that's for damn sure."
A few people muttered agreement. Halfway around the circle of chairs, Pam tilted her head slightly, her gaze picking out each person, probably memorizing the grumbles. The O'Kanes' new office assistant stopped by Pam's coffee cart every morning for cinnamon rolls and gossip, so chances were good that every word they uttered would be repeated to Dallas O'Kane by noon tomorrow.
That was why Tatiana kept her mouth shut. Hell, sometimes she didn't even go to the meetings. But it had been her turn to host the gathering, squeezing as many extra chairs as possible into the front room that served as her storefront, so she hadn't exactly had a choice.
Of course Wallace had picked tonight to stir up trouble.
Across the room, Stuart stood and crossed both well-muscled arms across his leather vest. "Yeah, a few stands got damaged. If you lost so much, take it up with whoever comes to collect your payment. O'Kane's reasonable if you deal fairly with him."
Wallace snorted. "Maybe with you, Stuart. You keep him rolling in leather and whips, and he keeps you ass-deep in money and credits. The rest of us aren't so lucky."
"We're all lucky," Stuart responded flatly. "We're lucky because we have it so good, we have the luxury to bitch about things. You know how many of us used to die whenever Stone got in a brawl over territory?"
Now the uncomfortable gazes swung Tatiana's way. Some were sympathetic, but others echoed the tense hint of accusation in Stuart's voice. Matthew Stone had died years ago, put into the ground by Dallas O'Kane in the fight that had won him leadership of Sector Four.
Tatiana was still paying for his crimes. For a place hell-bent on rejecting Eden's moral dogma, sometimes Sector Four was damn invested in visiting the sins of the father on his children.
But this time it was worse. Everyone in this room knew that Catalina was living with Wallace. Tatiana could stay silent and be damned by association, or speak up and further damage her fragile bond with her sister. Wallace would make sure of it. He'd twist any words she spoke against him into weapons and use them as proof that Tatiana was trying to drive them apart.
So she chose her words carefully. So very carefully. "The O'Kanes understand business. It's in their best interests to keep us producing the things they want to buy. Dallas has never given any of us reason to believe he won't deal fairly."
Wallace's eyes narrowed. "I see how it is."
It's survival, you fucking idiot. She bit her tongue to hold back the retort, because Wallace was too stupid to recognize self-preservation when it was staring him in the face. Tatiana would be fucked no matter what she said, so she said nothing.
Stuart had no such misgivings. "What's the matter, Wallace? The good old days not looking so shiny when you can't get the Stone Princess to play along?"
"You're all soft, that's what it is," Wallace spat. "Curled up, nice and cozy, in O'Kane's pocket."
Pam reached for Stuart, but he shook off her hand and took a step forward. Chairs screeched across the floor and people shuffled out of the way as Stuart loomed into Wallace's space. "Take a swing. Find out how soft I am."
Wallace laughed and turned away. For a moment, Tatiana thought he would walk. Then he spun around with a blow directed at Stuart's midsection.
Shouts erupted. Pam's husband hauled her out of the way as one of the food vendors jostled into Tatiana, nearly knocking her down. She scrambled to her feet in time to watch Stuart take the punch--just takeit--and then swing a massive fist back at Wallace.
Panic made her sick. They were going to destroy her store, and she couldn't stop them. She was half their size, and the only kind of fighting she'd ever learned to do was the kind that ended fights permanently. She couldn't exactly stab one of them.
Though sinking a knife into Wallace would solve so many problems...
Something slammed, a loud crack that rose above the rest of the noise, but Tatiana couldn't see what it was--until silence rippled through the room, and the crowd of people parted.
Jasper McCray stood at the open front door, glaring at the mess. "What's going on here?"
Stuart swiped blood from his nose and turned his back on Wallace in a sign of either reckless arrogance or suicidal trust. Or maybe it was neither--Wallace wasn't likely to take another swing with Dallas O'Kane's second-in-command standing there, glowering at all of them. "Just working out a difference of opinion, Jas."
He glared past Stuart at Wallace, who tried to return his stare before breaking and lowering his gaze.
As the host of this month's meeting, Tatiana should have been the one to step into the awkward silence. But rules and customs had a way of bending when an O'Kane entered a room. Gravity readjusted itself. The hardscrabble pecking order twisted, warped. People with strong ties to the O'Kanes stood taller.
People like Tatiana tried to disappear.
So it was Stuart who righted a fallen chair and raised his voice, a new strength and confidence giving his words the whip-snap edge of command. "I'd say that brings the meeting to a close. Next month we're meeting at Big Sal's."
With Jasper McCray standing there like a bearded mountain, no one argued. Wallace went first, striding past Jasper without looking back. Others followed quickly behind. A few turned sideways, edging between him and her shelves of soaps and lotions with wary respect in their eyes, but there was none of the usual jostling for position or catty comments. Just a sea of silent, nervous people spilling out the door into the sector streets.
They probably wanted to escape any association with Tatiana and Wallace, which only made her fingers itch for the hilt of the knife tucked into her boot. There was no association, but no one would believe it after tonight. Stabbing him seemed more and more tempting.
Stuart was the last to head toward the door, and he paused next to Jasper. No words, no question. Just a soldier, silently waiting for his command.
But no command came, and Jasper's words were delivered with a crooked smile. "If you keep settling differences of opinion with your face, Stu, you won't be nearly so pretty."
Stuart grinned and slapped him on the arm. "A busted face hasn't slowed you down. Come by tomorrow, eh? I have something special for your lady."
"You bet. Have a good night."
Stuart left, and Jasper studied a shelf that had been jarred during the fight. He straightened the bottles carefully, then t
urned to face her. "If they broke anything, let me know. Dallas'll pay for it."
The floor was littered with discarded paper cups and crumpled pieces of paper, but other than a few upended chairs and a display of soaps that had spilled to the floor, the damage was minimal. "It's all right. You stopped them before things got too out of hand. But thank you."
"No problem. Tempers run hot. It happens."
Jasper probably knew exactly the sort of shit Wallace was saying. By tomorrow, Pam would have provided him with the precise, damning details. The O'Kanes had always treated Tatiana well, but she was under no illusions. They watched her, too.
Other people could prove they were loyal. Everyone was waiting for her to prove she wasn't.
She turned and reached behind the counter for a garbage bag. "Some of the vendors are worried about the damage from the fight. Stuart told them to bring it up when someone comes to collect their payments. I think most will listen to him."
"They should. Dallas has been putting out the word that he'll make it right."
And some of them would never believe Dallas, because they wouldn't do the same in his position. "Maybe if your men bring it up first?" She dumped a handful of trash into the bag before looking up to meet Jasper's dark, serious eyes. "My father had a knack for discouraging demands, and some habits die hard."
He nodded. "Is everything else cool?"
She gripped the bag more tightly and forced her voice to remain curious, casual, as if the answer didn't matter much. "Is Zan doing better? I'm running out of jasmine oil, and he'll never tell me how he gets hold of it."
Jasper's severe expression softened a bit. "I'll let him know."
Nothing about his condition or his recovery, because she'd played her cards too cautiously. If she had expressed concern for the man instead of what he could do for her, maybe Jasper would have given her some news and soothed this nagging concern she couldn't shake.
