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Mateo’s one eye gleams with malice despite the swelling. “Aren’t you? Deep down? You’re still just a pretty fuck toy they pass around, mark with their knives and needles, thinking your pussy is special. They just don’t realize you belonged to us before they got the chance.”

“I know who I belong to.” I move the blade until the tip is pressed into his throat. A drop of blood seeps from where the steel meets flesh, but even that doesn’t deter him.

“Do you? Do you really think we didn’t dirty up the King’s prized possession first chance we got?”

His words filter through the walls I’d carefully erected before walking in here. Belonged to us? Dirty up?

I falter. “W-what did you say?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but the door swings open, banging hard against the wall. Damon is across the room in three steps.

“Enough,” he growls, grabbing Mateo by the head with both hands. His eyes meet mine, and in a swift, decisive move, Damon’s hands twist, snapping his neck with a loud crack. Blood and sweat spray from his mouth, landing across my chin and chest.

Life fades from Mateo’s eyes and face, his head slumping over when released.

Damon walks over to me. I’m stunned and processing what just happened, not by the death, but by the sheer speed. He reaches for me, tentatively, his hand bloody.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“What the fuck?” I ask, heart thudding. I look around him, at Mateo’s body slumped in the chair, neck at an unnatural angle. “Why did you do that? I had it under control.”

“I was tired of listening to his bullshit.”

“So you killed him?” My hands shake. “He was talking. About me. I wanted to hear what he had to say.”

Damon’s fingers slip around the handle of the knife and he eases it out of my hand. “I killed him because he’s a lying asshole who knows nothing about the Guardian. He switched the conversation to fuck with your head, and I’m not going to let that happen.”

What he’s saying makes sense, but it doesn’t slow the adrenaline. “I would’ve killed him.”

“I know, Doll Baby. I didn’t kill him because you couldn’t,” he says, his thumb running a sticky path down my jaw. “I did it because you shouldn’t have to. Not anymore. Not when we’re here.” My breath catches as he continues, “No one is going to fuck with your head, Doll Baby, and that’s all he wanted to do. You were right. He had nothing. He was weak, and everyone knew it–except us, until it was too late.”

My pulse thrums wildly, a chaotic mix of adrenaline from what just happened and the overwhelming sight of Damon–eyes dark and intent, completely focused on me.

I went from running in the dark of night from this man, masked and brutal–ruthless–to this. To having him kill for me without hesitation, and I react the same way, pushing up onto my toes and kissing him hard, capturing his mouth with mine. The taste of copper and salt hits my tongue, but I don’t care. I kiss him like I’m drowning and he’s air.

“Thank you,” I breathe against his lips, my fingers twisting tightly into his shirt to pull him even closer.

“No one fucks with my Baroness, understand?” His voice is gravelly, possessive.

I spent so long fighting on my own–trapped in isolation, lost inside my own fractured mind–mindfucked at every turn, but this is wild. This is free. Blood-slicked and raw, with the sharp bite of death filling the air and blades that can both destroy and heal.

Damon growls low in his throat and pushes me backward until my backside slams into the edge of the stainless steel table. Instruments clatter as he shoves them aside. His mouth crashes into mine again, deeper this time, more feral. I bite down on the piercing in his lip, and he groans, the sound vibrating through me.

Wild hunger takes over.

He reaches for the hem of my sweatshirt and yanks it over my head in one rough motion. The cool dungeon air hits my bare skin, tightening my nipples instantly. Damon’s breathing grows heavier as his eyes rake over me, dark with lust.

“Hunt,” he says without looking away from me, fingers trailing over the curve of my breast.

“Yeah?” Hunter’s voice comes through the speaker, calm but alert.

“You may want to turn off that recorder unless you want Ashby to see this.”

There’s a short pause, then Hunter replies, “Got it.”

Everything shifts from the slow move of his fingers to something more frantic.

Adrenaline pumps hard through my veins. Damon’s hands are on my breasts, his fingers rolling roughly over the piercings in my nipples, sending sharp sparks of pleasure straight between my legs. I’m already soaked, aching for him while I push his shirt off his body.