by Katie May
I laugh, the sound utterly carefree and joyous, as Rion’s footsteps get closer and closer. His hot breath wafts across my lips.
“I told you I was going to paint you,” he purrs, brushing paint down my other cheek and to my neck.
“You’ll ruin my clothes,” I protest, breathless from laughter. Abel’s teeth clamp down on my earlobe, and my laughter quickly dissipates. My breathing, however, remains ragged.
“Then perhaps we’ll have to take them off of you,” Abel whispers seductively. My heart ricochets around my rib cage.
“I’ve never felt this way before,” Rion adds, taking another step closer. At this point, there is only a sliver of space between my lips and his. “You hold me in such a way that I don’t feel broken.” I’m panting now, consumed by an insatiable need I have only ever felt with first Bronson and then Kai. Rion steps back, and I suddenly miss his warmth.
Abel presses languid kisses down my neck and to my shoulder, pushing down the strap of my gown.
“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers against my skin.
“No.” My answer takes even me by surprise as he slips the other strap off my shoulder.
My dress pools around my feet leaving me in only a lace bra and tiny panties. Heart hammering, I push myself into Rion’s mind once more.
The sight before me is erotic and sends my lust skyrocketing.
The gauzy material of my bra does very little to conceal my cleavage. My beaded nipples are noticeable through the fabric. Lower, I see that my panties are visibly soaked through.
Abel stands directly behind me, kissing my neck and shoulders. He’s still naked, but this time, he doesn’t have a blanket obscuring his cock from view. He holds his body a little bit away from mine—no doubt not wanting to scare me—but through Rion’s eyes, I can see the long, erect length of his cock.
I pull myself out of my shifter’s eyes once more, content to experience this moment in my customary darkness. I don’t understand a lot of things, but the dark? I understand it intimately. I embrace it like you would an old friend.
Without sight, I can focus on my other senses. Abel’s lips feathering kisses across my skin. His hands on the waistband of my underwear. The smoothness of his face as he nuzzles my neck.
“Rion,” I whisper, wanting him. Needing him.
Abel’s hand travels to the clasp of my bra, expertly undoing it and pushing it off my shoulders.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” he asks, kneading my heavy globes. His thumbs and fingers twist my nipples, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from my lips.
“I need to paint her,” Rion replies in a soft voice. As Abel pushes down my underwear, his cock brushing my wet entrance, Rion moves closer to me once more. The brush, which I know to still be slick with red paint, travels down the valley of my heaving breasts. The combined stimulations are nearly overwhelming—Abel’s hands on my thighs and the whiskers of the brush against my chest.
Rion paints a circle around one nipple and then the other before lowering.
“Rion,” I groan, placing my hands on his shoulders.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “A work of art. My muse.”
When the brush reaches the inside of my thighs, I can’t stop the desperate mewl that leaves my parted lips. I want him to touch me, but at the same time...
“I don’t want paint in my vagina,” I whisper, resting my head on Abel’s shoulder. My words bring a spurt of laughter out of first Abel and then Rion.
“Don’t worry, my love.” Rion’s voice sounds from further below, as if he has dropped to his knees. “I’ll put something else in there instead.” The next moment, his tongue licks my slit, tasting me. I jolt into Abel, gasping and reaching out to grab the top of Rion’s head to hold him to me. He pulls back with a groan. “Fuck, you taste good.”
He brings his lips back to my mound as his fingers press at the bundle of nerves. Abel turns my face toward his, kissing me fiercely as his hands drop to my breasts. Kneading the skin, he moans against my lips, muttering indecipherable praises.
“I want to feel you,” I say breathily. Despite my encounters with Bronson and Kai, I haven’t ever felt a cock in my hand. I’ve never felt the need to pleasure a man like that before this moment.
“Yes,” Abel agrees, guiding my hand to his cock. The hardness belies how soft it actually feels beneath my palms, the skin and muscles contradicting one another. It’s smooth velvet over steel. I run my fingers over the tip, my hand coming away wet and sticky.
As Rion continues to pleasure me from below, my body lighting up in pleasure, I work on memorizing the feel and shape of Abel’s cock. I want him to feel the lust and desire that I’m feeling. I want him to unravel completely with me one string at a time. When I reach his balls, Abel releases a hiss of air, his cock jumping in my other hand.
“Sorry!” I say instantly, pulling my hand away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Fucking hell, woman, don’t stop,” Abel breathes, pulling my hands back to his throbbing member. I begin to stroke him base to tip, reveling in every sharp intake of breath and grunt he makes. “Faster. Fuck, faster.”
Rion pulls his lips away from me abruptly, and I cry out at the loss of contact. Before I can protest, Rion pulls me into a desperate, feverish kiss. I taste myself on his lips, and my arousal ratchets up ten notches at the erotic flavor.
“I want to be inside of you,” he pleads.
“God, yes,” I cry, reaching for him with my free hand. He stealthily steps away, and I hear the sound of clothes being ripped off. A moment later, he stands in front of me once more, his cock inches from my dripping channel.
“Are you sure?” Rion asks, hands cupping my breasts despite the paint he placed on them.
“Yes,” I moan, stroking Abel faster. The trickster demon’s breath hitches as he turns my face to kiss my lips once more. His kiss is possessive and needy, claiming me as thoroughly as I claim him. Our tongues tangle together in a story of passion and lust.
Rion enters me slowly, lifting one of my legs to hold me steady, and allows me to adjust to his girth. He’s thicker than Kai, his cock filling me so completely I can barely breathe.
“Are you okay?” he asks, freezing.
“Move,” I beg, wrenching my lips away from Abel’s. He starts moving inside of me with slow, measured thrusts. I cup his cheek with the hand not pleasuring Abel. “Rion...”
“God, you’re beautiful. Isn’t she beautiful, Abe?”
“Fuck yes,” Abel pants as my hand moves faster and faster. He claims my lips once more as if they have always been his, as if they belong to him. As if I belong to him.
Rion’s strokes become harder and faster as his fingers find my clit. I am halfway delirious with pleasure and lust.
Abel pulls his mouth away from mine to flutter kisses along my neck and shoulders. His breathing is just as uneven as mine.
My body pulsates with desire, my inner walls clenching around Rion’s hardened length. Rough grunts leave him, and my own moans mingle with his growls.
I sink my nails into the skin of his broad shoulders as my pleasure rises and rises, reaching an inescapable clifftop. Any second now, I’m going to fall straight over the edge.
“God, you’re perfect,” Rion whispers as my walls clamp down on his cock. His teeth sink into my neck hard enough to draw blood as I finally stumble head first over the edge. He follows me as my core tightens and clenches around him, milking him for all he’s worth. Abel is quick to follow after, exploding in my hand with a roar. “Mate,” Rion asserts in a dark, possessive voice against my neck. “My mate.” I’m too lost in my own pleasure to really hear and understand his words.
“Ours,” Abel counters, sucking on my skin where Rion bit me.
“Yours,” I agree as we collapse to the ground. “Always yours.”
Chapter 40
Damien
Travis Hudson was one of the best assassins in the guild.
Was, being the important
term.
Lean and limber, Travis has a face that seems to be hewn from stone. His small body belies how dangerous he actually is. The curl to his lips make him appear lethal, and his eyes are glowing with years of amassed wisdom.
Without a word, I hand him the bag of drugs.
While money may work in the real world to assert your dominance, here we rely on a different currency. Drugs, booze, sex, and favors.
And since I don’t give out favors and I sure as fuck don’t have sex anymore, drugs and booze it is.
Travis critically eyes the contents in the bag before nodding once, confirming I’ve done what I said I’ll do. I should be offended, but in this world, everyone’s a crook.
We’re all a little mad here.
“I’m surprised the great Damien, Narian’s favorite little protégée, got caught,” he muses, leaning against the pillar with his arms crossed over his chest. He brushes at the white locks framing his face.
“And I’m not surprised that you got caught,” I retort in the cold voice I reserve for my enemies, friends, and acquaintances. Frankly, everyone who isn’t Nina. Travis stiffens at the proverbial ice I hurl at him. Weak. Fucking weak. How he was able to rise in the ranks as an assassin is beyond my comprehension.
Despite working for the same guild, the same man, I haven’t seen Travis since I entered the prison. He’s a shifter, a powerful one, and was immediately taken under Rion’s wing. With relations between shifters and the other supernaturals no longer as tenuous as it once was, I reached out to my contact.
“I heard you were caught trying to assassinate Raphael Turner,” Travis states.
“And I heard you were balls deep in the corpse of Councilman Draco’s intern,” I reply, face blank.
Travis throws back his head in laughter, slapping his knee.
“Fuck, I missed your sense of humor, Red,” he says, referring to the nickname the other men at the guild called me.
My hands always ended up stained that color after a job.
“Did you get me what I wanted to know?” I ask, cutting to the chase. I’ve never been into this “small-talk” shit.
“Yup.” Travis pops the P, lips circling. The easygoing smile on his face only serves to grate on my nerves.
“Tell me...before I kill you,” I deadpan, removing my favorite gilded knife from my jacket sleeve. I’ve considered giving this dagger to Nina as a gift—a little token of me that she’ll always have on her—but Abel talked me out of it.
“You’re hilarious. Good one, man.” He places a hand on my shoulder, and I eye the limb with narrow, penetrating eyes. Realizing his mistake, he quickly removes it and shoves it into his pocket. Smart man, going under the assumption he would like to keep it.
“Speak,” I demand.
“You’re right. The guild was asked again to take out Raphael Turner. Apparently, the client called Narian himself. There’s no way of knowing if it was a man or woman due to voice distortion.”
“Did Narian take the job?” I ask curtly, already sifting through the numerous possibilities running rampant in my head. I’m still struggling to piece together how Nina fits into all this. Why her? Was she merely at the wrong place at the wrong time?
“Fuck no.” Travis snorts. “Narian isn’t stupid enough to send his men after Raphael again. You were his best assassin, and you got caught.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“Is the same person who hired me the first time the one who contacted Narian the second time?” I inquire. I feel desperate, gnawing at the first real lead we have. My head spins with the onslaught of information.
“No clue.” Another nonchalant shrug. “Like I said, the voice was distorted, and we never met the client in person.”
But whoever that person is obviously has a shit ton of money. Narian’s services are not cheap.
“So you’re positive Narian didn’t take the job?” I query.
“Positive.” Travis bobs his head decisively. “He laughed before hanging up on them.”
That sounds like Narian, twisted bastard.
“Anything else relevant?” I need to get to Blade and the others and discuss all that I learned. More than that, I want to see Nina again.
“Yeah.” Travis scrubs at his smooth jawline. “Narian mentioned something about a compound. I think the client mentioned it, too. Do you know what he’s referring to?”
My breath leaves me, and my lungs struggle to replenish their air supply.
Not just any compound, but the Compound.
Could it be the same one? The one my Angel escaped from?
It’s too much of a coincidence for me to think otherwise.
Was Raphael Turner’s murderer involved with the group who hurt Nina?
Red splotches erupt in my vision, and my hands curl into fists. I have the sudden, irresistible urge to enact vengeance on all those who wronged my Angel.
Including the assassin before me.
He may have helped me, but he’s still a threat. His loyalties are as fickle and precarious as a shard of glass. At the drop of a hat, he could be the one slicing a knife across her throat.
I can’t let that happen.
Before he can blink, I lunge forward and cut a clean line from ear to ear. Those glacial eyes of his glance up at me in shock and horror. Gradually, that horror turns into understanding. At the end of the day, we’re all murderers. I have no doubt he considered doing the exact same thing to me.
I don’t relish in this particular killing. It’s not fun or orgasmic. It’s a job, one that I need to do in order to protect Angel.
Wiping the knife on Travis’s shirt, I slide it back up my sleeve and enter the corridor. Someone, at some point, will find his body.
I won’t be around when that time comes.
After revealing my findings to the twins, Rion, and Blade, I move to the cell block where Bronson is with Nina. They’re sitting on his bed, her head beneath his chin, as he talks to her about his mom and sisters. Apparently, the oldest sister is a skilled hacker who once hacked the government’s system to remove a parking ticket from her record.
“I wish I could meet them,” Nina sighs, leaning further against the hulking shadow wolf. Bronson kisses her head, a serene expression on his face. He looks at utter peace with her in his arms. For a brief moment, jealousy burns a hole in my chest.
“You will, my queen. One day. You’re not going to be stuck here forever.” His words scratch at the hole, rendering me breathless.
The thought of Nina leaving...
Is it selfish that I don't want her to ever leave? That I can’t compute a future without her? I’m so used to her light that the darkness seems like a distant memory. The prospect of her leaving...
How long will it take her to forget about me?
Everyone eventually does. I’m a shadow, a ghost, hovering just on the outskirts but never participating. With Nina, with my Angel, I feel whole. Warmth suffuses me, wrapping me in its heated embrace.
Clearing my throat, I step forward, interrupting their interlude. Bronson’s eyes flash umber, but he doesn’t stop me from entering his cell. I keep my voice and face inscrutable, vacant almost, as I stare at him.
“Blade has requested to see you,” I say haughtily. Lie.
Bronson hesitates, staring from me to Angel, but she gives his bicep a reassuring squeeze.
“Go,” she urges. “I’ll stay with Damien.” When he refuses to budge, she giggles, getting to her feet and pushing at his shoulder. “Go!” He turns, snaking an arm around her waist, and devours her lips with his own.
The little green monster makes an appearance again at how easily he claims her. Like he has every right to. Like he’s hers and she’s his. Like they belong together.
A flush spreads up her cheeks, softening her dewy features even further, before she steps away from him and links her arm with mine. With anyone else, I would have them flat on their back with a knife to their throat.
But this isn’t anyone else. This is Nina, and sh
e’s the only one allowed to touch me at will. I actually encourage it.
“Bye, Bron!” she calls, wiggling her fingers. He kisses her forehead, eyes swarming with a dozen different emotions she’ll never be able to see without the help of her powers.
“Bye, Goddess.”
He gives me an eloquent look that threatens pain if any harm comes to her. I nod back to show him I understand and comply. No one will be stupid enough to hurt my Angel when I’m beside her.
“Where are we going, Bitch Mage?” she asks, skipping beside me. I stumble to a stop at the horrendous nickname.
“What?”
This lady never ceases to surprise me.
“Rion told me that Bitch Mage is your nickname,” she explains with another twinkling laugh. I could listen to that sound every second of every day and never tire of it. Warmth infuses my entire body.
“He did, did he?” I question lazily, already picturing a million different ways to murder the shifter.
But alas, he’s her mate, so I suppose I’ll let him off with a warning. One.
“Do you not like being called Bitch Mage?” she asks innocently. When I remain silent, staring stonily ahead, her lower lip wobbles. “I’m sorry, Damien. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Oh, shit.
As tears flood Nina’s milky eyes, panic overtakes me. I desperately grab at her shoulders, mind scrambling to come up with a solution to stop her tears. Chocolate, wine, and books. The perfect combination for any emotional female.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
A beatific smile overtakes her face, and she throws her head back in laughter.
“Were you...?” I trail off, dropping my hands to capture one of hers. “Were you teasing me?”
“Yup! And you fell for it!” She laughs, the sound so joyous and carefree that my own laugh escapes unbidden. Her gorgeous eyes widen as she turns toward me. “Damien, did you just laugh?”
“You’re evil.” I drop her hand to wrap my arms around her thin waist. Over the weeks, she has gained a sufficient amount of weight back. She’s nowhere near her ideal weight, but she’s better than the skin and bones she’d arrived as.
