She glows, blushing a deep crimson. “Liam, you gave me a religious experience already. I would be more than honored to do the same for you.”
“But?”
Without removing her hand from where I’m throbbing against her palm, she slides her other hand up my chest. Her fingers glide over my jaw, settling on my cheek. A muscle jumps under her touch.
“But there is one other trope I love more than worship,” she whispers. “More than redemption. More than forbidden love. The ultimate trope to span all romances—even if people believe it only exists in fairytales.”
“And what is that, Darlin’?”
She bites her lower lip. She leans in to kiss me. My cock jerks so hard it hurts. I’ve never been this rock-hard for a woman in my life.
But just as her lips part to reveal the secret, I touch my fingers to her mouth and shake my head. “No. Not yet, Lexie.” I pull back, breath labored. “Goddessfuck, I want you with all my heart, but I’ll not be taking you here today. And not just because I’ll break the mirror if I try.”
I brush a thumb over her trembling bottom lip. “You’re going to keep that ultimate trope to yourself. You’re going to hold onto it like a secret. And once I learn the secret…Once I speak it outloud, then, Elexia Carter, I’ll bury myself inside you so hard and deep, like a key to a lock.”
I lean in, addicted to her oceanic gray orbs, and whisper the promise against her damp skin. “We’ll be fused so strong together, Luv, that secret will have nowhere else to go but stay sealed between us forever. And then, you’ll know. We made something powerful enough for the storybooksreal. Because it was meant to be real. For us.”
I kiss her once more—soft, lingering—before pulling away.
“Now, face the mirror again,” I direct her, then move, preparing my belt, my hand, and my tongue. “I’m goin’ to lick ye, Lexie. And I’ll be lickin’ ye until ye scream so loud and high, it can crack every mirror in this ballroom.”
I don’t stop until her head drops between her shoulders, and her eyes roll back. I worship her, licking her taut nipples, circling her clit, and plunging my fingers in and out of her pussy until I drink her fluids like a fountain. She fists my hair and shatters around me, her cries of pleasure echoing through the room like a symphony written for one listener only—me.
My first call was to Claire Ryan.
Given this calculated risk, I wasn’t about to leave my girl alone. Not even with O’Connell’s world-class security. And thanks to his security and aid, I was able to determine dear old Uncle Eamon was honest in his vow.
I check the tablet. The drones circle the property, silent as owls on a search mission.
Nothing. No body signatures. Clear.
The scent of damp earth and rot fills the estate air. This was my childhood home—after my father tore my world apart. The shadow of the manor looms like a tombstone against the moonlit sky. I clench my hand into a white-knuckled fist.
I still remember my mother’s blood on my palms. The way the light left her soul. Rage from that night rises despite my fulfilled vengeance.
I stow the device and walk toward the family mausoleum, a gothic monstrosity of gray stone and iron gates.
Uncle Eamon waits by the entrance. He’s dressed in a bespoke charcoal overcoat, every bit the patriarch, like my father. But far too comfortable.
“You look good, Liam,” he says with an easy, practiced warmth. “All things considered. The city’s been whispering about your demise for a week.”
“Then the city’s full of idiots,” I growl, stopping ten paces away. My own tactical jacket feels heavy, my hand hovering near the grip of my piece. “I want answers, Eamon.”
Eamon sighs. Something resembling pity shadows his features. “The Manager. O’Malley’s gone rogue, Liam. He sees your ‘evolution’ as a betrayal of everything your father built. He’s been stirring the pot with the Old Guard, telling them you’re soft. And you’re wanting to retire on their dime.”
“And you?” I narrow my eyes. “Whose side are you on?”
“Family first, always.” Eamon steps closer into the moonlight. “But you’ve been careless. Street cameras clocked the license plate of that gray sedan you were spotted in. O’Malley didn’t just get the car; he got the name and location of the little florist who stitched you up.”
The world goes cold. A predatory snarl claws at my throat, but I force it down. I shrug, playing it flat and dismissive. “A means to an end.” But my soul screams to fly back to the manor and wrap Lexie in steel. “She was useful. Nothing more.”
A swift breeze chills, feeding the tension. Eamon studies me, searching for the crack in my armor. I don’t give it to him.
“Good,” he notes. “Because I can try and get the heat off ye for a bit. Tell ‘em she’s just a loose end you’ll be tying up yourself. But O’Malley…he needs to be dealt with, Liam. The Cartel is out for blood.”
“Then we make an example,” I say, veins filled with icy intent. “If I have to throw O’Malley’s still-bloody head at the feet of the Old Guard to show ‘em I haven’t lost my edge, then that’s what I’ll do. And I’ll deliver his parts to the cartel. One by one.”
Eamon nods, a slow, dark smile spreading across his face. “Spoken like a Donovan. Cut off the head of the snake, Liam. It’s the only way to purge the venom.”
