"Together," I say. "Now.”
“Fuck you!” Sergei snarls, and we move together, our hands joined on the knife, as the blade slides across Sergei's throat. Blood sprays hot and dark, and Sergei makes a gurgling soundas I lean forward, capturing Mara’s mouth with mine as the life flows from his body underneath us both.
Mara gasps, and I pull her closer, my tongue tangling with hers as I breathe her in before I pull back, my forehead against hers, my entire body throbbing with a sudden, violent need.
"Stay," I murmur. "Stay with me. See it through."
And she does. She stays pressed against me, our hands still on the knife, still in Sergei's throat, until his movements slow and then stop. Until the light fades from his eyes and he's just meat beneath us, a body that once had a spark of life.
Only then do I release her hands.
She pulls back, staring at me, and then at her palms, at the blood that covers them. Sergei's blood. Our blood, in a way—the blood we spilled together, the life we took together. She's breathing hard, her eyes wide, and for a moment I think she's going to break. That I've pushed her too far, asked too much, destroyed whatever chance we had.
But then she looks up at me, and what I see in her face isn't horror or regret.
It’s the same violent need that I feel coursing through me, right now.
“Kazimir,” I snap, my voice a low growl. “Get the men out. When Mara and I leave, come back and clean this up. Find some coverup. Make it look like someone else broke in, leave signs that look like it was a territory conflict, whatever. I don’t care. But don’t come back in until she and I leave.”
Kazimir grunts his understanding. I reach for Mara, not bothering to wait for the last footsteps to leave before I drag her mouth to mine, my breath coming hard as my teeth graze her lower lip.
“Mine,” I breathe. “And yours.”
30
ILYA
With her mouth on mine, her hands gripping my arms, there’s only one thing I can think about. "I need you." The words come out raw, almost broken. "Right now, right here, I need you."
I expect her to protest. To say this is wrong, that we shouldn't, that we need to leave. But instead, she nods, her hands already working at my belt.
"Yes," she breathes. "Yes."
I drop the knife, the metal clanging as it clatters to the concrete, and then I shift away from the body, onto the concrete floor heedless of the pooling blood as I bring her astride me. She has my pants open in seconds, and I’m yanking her leggings down, freeing one leg as she settles atop me again.
There’s a desperate, violent intensity to this that I’ve never felt before, even in the most heated moments with her. This feels like something new, like we’ve crossed a line, like I’ve brought her into my world even as I’ve begun to give her the trust she asked for.
I saw what she’s capable of on her own. I saw it before; I just couldn’t let myself believe it. She’s capable, strong, and even without me, she could survive anything, I think.
She deserves someone who will fight to trust her to be able to take care of herself. Someone who will push their own fears aside for her.
She frees my straining cock and I lift her up, my bloody hands gripping her hips hard as I seat her on me in one hard thrust, dragging her down against my hips. She cries out, throwing her head back, and I don’t wait to let her tease me. I put her in the position of control, but I have every intention of fucking her just as hard as I can.
It feels primal and raw, fueled by adrenaline and death and the knowledge that we almost lost each other. There’s nothing gentle about it. I can't be. My hands grip her hard enough to bruise, my teeth find her throat, and when she gasps my name, I thrust up into her harder, dragging her down against my hips with every stroke as she rocks against me, her nails digging into my chest through my shirt as she meets every thrust with a ferocity that matches my own. She kisses me hard, biting my lower lip, and I fuck her harder, thrusting up into her as she grips me with her thighs. She’s claiming me as surely as I’m claiming her, and I lift one bloody hand, leaving a handprint on her skin as I wrap my fingers where the necklace I gave her should be.
There’s death and darkness all around it, and she’s my only light.
I feel her tighten around me, hear her breath catch, and I know she's close. I press my forehead against hers, my eyes locked on hers, and I watch as she comes apart, feeling her clench around me as she cries out her pleasure, gripping my cock tightly as she gives herself over to the pleasure.
She’s wild and dangerous, and she’smine.
My cock throbs, my climax rushing white-hot up my spine as she spasms around me, almost painful in its intensity as I spurt inside of her. The relief is more than physical, a groan of pure pleasure tearing from my lips as I fill Mara with my cum.
She trembles against me, breathing hard, her palms flat against my chest. She leans into me and I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, proof that she's alive.
That we're both alive.
Slowly, I slide out of her, helping her adjust her clothes. Her legs are shaking, and I keep my hands on her waist, steadying her. We're both a mess, clothes disheveled and blood-stained.
