Page 82 of Enemy of the Heart

Sean plunges two fingers into me before pulling them out and skillfully playing my clit like a stringed instrument. My back bows as much as my restraints will allow, and my eyes roll back into my head.

“Scream for me.”

I don’t have to wonder for long what the fuck I’ll be screaming for because the sharp sting of a blade dragging across my skin just above my clit has my piercing shriek bouncing off the walls. Sean strokes my clit through the torture as he continues to slice into my flesh. I thrash my head as my eyes threaten to roll into the back of my head. My body is on fire, the adrenaline stoking the embers as he leans forward, licking the bleeding wound as he pinches my clit.

My blood is fizzing, tiny bubbles trickling through my veins as bliss swiftly envelops me. It’s an effort to lift my head, but when I do, I find my skin split in a pattern that reveals both my blood and a second set of Sean’s initials. I smile, despite the glorious discomfort.

With my next breath, he’s impaling me on his cock, seating himself in one powerful thrust. I scream as he pinches my nipples, pulling painfully on the skin around my brand, but my vision goes spotty as he pounds into me with indecent, filthy precision.

I fall apart once more, my mind empty as tears prick my eyes from the onslaught of pleasure battering my senses. Sean follows closely behind me, my name flying from his perfect mouth.

Just as he promised, Sean broke me, but on my own terms, mending me in every way imaginable.

In Sean’s darkness, I’ve found my light.

Sean

FOUR YEARS LATER

Tearing through the early autumn midnight air, I lean forward on my bike, punching the gas, savoring the subsequent surge of adrenaline.

“Damn, you’re getting soft in your old age,” Jace’s voice chimes through my headset as he takes the lead, zipping past me, making me chuckle. His brake lights cut through the darkening rural road.There’s just enough light to make out the colorful leaves decorating the road, flying around us like confetti.

“Thirty-eight is not old,” I grumble. “Besides, I’m only a year older than you, jackass, and I didn’t realize this was a race.”

I lay on the gas, quickly closing the gap as he quips, “C’mon, everything is a competition.”

The powerful bike rumbles between my legs, the trees on either side of the road gobbling up the sound. Taking the last curve, we hug the tree line so closely that the red, woodsy green and golden leaves kiss my black tactical pants before the road straightens out. We’re neck-and-neck on the straight-away and Jace’s amused chuckle echoes through my headset again as we both begin to slow.

Approaching his driveway first, we both stop, and I ask, “You seeing Lydia tonight?”

“Hell yeah.” I can’t see his face through his blacked-out helmet, but I can hear his smile as he replies, “I could really use a…release.”

It’s been a long month working to get Viktor some answers about a potential information leak, but Jace and I finally got a break-through tonight.

It took almost a full two years until this place started to feel like home. The language barrier was only part of it. Jace and I were constantly looking over our shoulders, waiting for someone to ambush us and drag us back to America—or worse. When we hit the one-year mark without so much as a traffic ticket, we both started to breathe more easily. Louhi and Viktor insisted that we were in the clear, but it wasn’t until year two that we dared to believe them.

Living in peace is far easier than living in fear, so we’ll deal with any conflict that arises when or if the time comes. That doesn’t mean any of us are reckless, though.

I snort mirthfully at Jace’s remark. A release is something I could use, too. Especially since Louhi’s been away for a little more than two weeks completing a job in Colombia. I’ve missed her. It’s the longest we’ve been apart in the last six months, but with the hours I’ve been logging lately, it didn’t make sense for her to turn this job down.

“I can’t decide whether or not I hope she’ll have followed the instructions I sent her earlier.” He rarely shares what he and his new friend—I really don’t know what the fuck to call the two of them—get up to. “She’s a motherfucking brat.”

“Don’t pretend as if you both don’t like that.” I chuckle.

Where I prefer to break Lou’s body, Jace prefers to break minds. That much is obvious when we get into the interrogation room. I think inflicting physical pain is simply a bonus for him.

He lifts a shoulder, but the amusement is still present as he answers, “That’s true.”

Lydia’s been around for the last year, and it only took a single smart-ass comment from her for him to become hooked. He puts the word obsessed to shame. I get it, though; fuck do I get it.

We bump fists before I pull back onto the road and travel the short distance to our house. Soon, the black cottage tucked into the trees that belongs to me and Lou comes into view. Parking my bike, I approach the house, the moonlight glinting off the waxy leaves of the ivy that climbs up the exterior wall.

After ascending the few steps, I pause on the wooden porch and reach into my back pocket. I glance down at the mask in my grasp that once belonged to a soldier in my command.

Jace and I have taken to wearing a similar version now that we lead Viktor’s interrogation team. As the only two non-native Bratva soldiers on Viktor’s payroll, it took nearly two years before our coworkers came to respect us. Through unwavering loyalty and violence, we earned it. Turns out, our military training came in handy, even if we serve someone else now.

Working for Viktor has been idyllic, not that I’d share that with him—his ego is plenty big enough—but it’s the perfect occupation. We spend every day doing the things we love, without fear of judgment.