Intense (Beneath Blaze #3)

by Luna Mason

For the wild ones who thought choking was enough. Congratulations, you've unlocked the deluxe package: a psychopathic doctor, a live snake necklace, and a blood kink so filthy it'll make your therapist quit. Are you ready for your appointment? Because Dr. Quinn will see you now. P.S. Your safe word won’t save you…

“Are you going to tell me why you’re so damn snappy with me all the time?”

A single tear slips down my cheek, thinking about the eighteen-year-old Stephanie. And what I’d do now to protect her. What I could do to protect other girls like me.

Because it wasn’t just Mark who hurt me. There’s a trail of them littered around Pennsylvania. And they all deserve to die.

“Jesus fucking Christ. We don’t fuck each other, that would be disgusting. We simply fuck the same woman. Our dicks do not touch,”

“Fine. Reggie has a bigger dick, lengthwise. Only just. Mine is girthier. And pierced.”

And I can’t decide if I want to protect her or pin her to the wall and demand answers.

“Uncle Finn!” “Come here. I need a hug.” I open my arms and she barrels toward me, launching into my lap like she’s been waiting all day. “How was jail? Did you have to pick up any soap?” Charlotte smirks.

They’ve found peace in places I can’t even look too long without flinching.

Watching love from the outside, pretending like I don’t want it, like it wouldn’t burn straight through me if I ever tried to hold it.

“Never let a man define your worth, Poppy. There’s a reason why we all choose the bear.” I give her a squeeze.

LOOKED GORGEOUS IN VEGAS. Bratty as hell. Still hates my guts. I sensed a hint of jealousy? Or was that me?

“Don’t forget to take your butt plug out before bed.” I ignite like a furnace. Of all the things my boss could have caught me saying out loud, this one will go down as one of the most embarrassing. “You jot that one down, and I will punch you so hard in the throat that you won’t be able to do a speech when you win tomorrow.” I smile sweetly as I deliver my threat.

She didn’t need me. She had it handled like the calculated, venomous force she is. But still… I stepped in. Because men like him never learn until another man teaches them. And no one teaches harder lessons than me.

SAVED HER FROM A SEX PEST. SHE WAS FIRE IN A DRESS. LOOKED ME IN THE EYE LIKE SHE’D SET ME ALIGHT TOO. WOULD LET HER. Actually, she never needed saving. She had him on the floor like a dog. Very naughty.

But God, she looks beautiful when she’s seething. What the fuck is wrong with me? What is this temptress doing to the cold, numb Dr. Quinn?

“I don’t fold. Every damn day of my life is a battle.”

She grabs my hands and bolts of electricity sizzle. She bats her lashes dramatically and pouts. Fuck. Turns out I’ll do whatever this woman asks without a second thought.

“Stephanie,” he cuts in, smirking. “You’d know, drunk or not, if I’d fucked you. You’d be covered in cuts and bruises. You wouldn’t be able to walk. And you sure as hell wouldn’t be questioning it. Because you’d feel it. I’d still be dripping down your thighs. So no, we did not have sex.”

I yank at the ring, but the second I do, a growl erupts from him. “Dr. Stephanie Quinn.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Finn?” “I’m a married man now, Stephanie. And your husband needs a nap.”

“Stop being a dick, Finn.” “Stop being a brat, Stephanie.”

“I’m going to kill you.” He beams. “Not before our honeymoon, love.”

Because when she kissed me—drunk or not⁠— My entire world fucking stopped.

Tears burn behind my eyes. I blink hard. No one sees me cry. No one has ever stayed long enough to deserve that piece of me.

“I don’t hide my crazy. I am who I am. But you? You’re trying to conceal it, like I can’t see straight through you. Like I haven’t spent the past six years analyzing your every move. I know you, Stephanie. Now how about you fucking show me?”

I just throat-punched my boss.

She doesn’t know. Can’t know. That even now, I’m still waiting to be hurt again.

She’s chaos. And I’m addicted.

“Stephanie… serious question. How many brain cells did your past lovers have? And why couldn’t they find the clit? What the fuck were they aiming for?” I shrug. “Fuck knows. But I’ve never had a clit-stimulated orgasm from a man before.” A slow, deadly smile spreads across his lips. “Never? Fucking hell. You shouldn’t have told me that, because I’m about to come in my boxers.”

My boss. My husband. The man who makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt, on his knees, for me. Not to propose. Not to beg. But to devour.

Part of me—the independent, abandoned part—wants to tell him to fuck off. But the other piece? The piece that’s tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of looking over her shoulder. Tired of doing everything alone. That piece wants to let him stay. That piece wants to be protected. I hug myself.

Because how do you dream about a white picket fence when your hands are stained with the lives of men who used you? Men who thought pain was love. Men who taught me how to take it and, eventually, how to give it back.

Her touch calms something in me, and that’s what makes it dangerous.

“You little fucking menace,” he rasps in my ear. “Three tires?” “I was going for four,” I pant. “I don’t like odd numbers.” He chuckles darkly. He’s not amused. Not even close. It’s the sound of someone losing his last shred of patience. With me.

“I don’t give a fuck who sees. When I’m near you, nothing else seems to matter anymore.”

His breath, mint and whiskey and a violence I need.

“Where are you going? Don’t you want a ride home?” I ask, standing back up. He chuckles. “Nah, I’m all good. Check the license plate, temptress,” he winks. Oh fuck. I slashed someone else’s tires.

“Please sounds so good coming from your lips, love.”

“You want this marriage to be over so bad…” His voice dips as he leans in, the heat of him invading my skin. “…get on your knees and fucking beg me properly.”

“You don’t want me as your wife, Finn,” I say coolly, shifting tactics. He pulls back just enough to let me breathe. But those sharp eyes stay locked on mine. “Why not? Give me three constructive arguments, and I’ll consider it.” “I’m high maintenance. You won’t be able to keep up.” He scoffs, already loading his counterattack. “I’m rich, remember? You’ve called me fuckin’ rich boy for years. Next?” Shit. Okay. “We work together.” “I could fire you. But HR already approved our marriage. Next?” “Jesus Christ, you’re impossible. Fine. Last one. I don’t fucking like you, Dr. Quinn.” That smug smile spreads across his face again. “That’s a damn lie.” He grips my jaw, forcing me to hold his gaze. “I tried to slash your tires. I just handed you the papers. I even begged for you to leave me. How does that scream that I like you?” He’s still smiling. Like I’m the most beautiful contradiction he’s ever seen. And maybe I am.

This isn’t just about me marking her as mine. It’s about her owning me too. This is a marriage, a union in blood.

“There is a reason I need pain in my life, Stephanie,” I tell her.

“I wanted to shake you. Ruin you. But only if I could put you back together after.”

Finn Quinn is many things. Disturbed, dominant, and terrifying in his control. But this? This quiet devotion? It’s the most dangerous part of him. Because I think I could fall in love with it. And falling for a man like Finn is a death sentence.

He slides his fingers into mine, and I look down, catching a glimpse of his left hand. There is no ring there anymore. Something worse. How the hell did I miss this? “Finn. What the hell is that?” I hold it up to inspect it. A thick black band inked across his wedding finger, with a delicate ‘S’ in the middle. “Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is?” He nods. “Permanent as fuck, baby. Would you like a matching one?” I blink at him in disbelief. “You’re a psycho, Finn. Why?” He grins and holds my hand in his, staring into my eyes. “Because somehow, I wanted to show you how serious I am about this marriage. That it isn’t a game. That you fuckin’ own me, love. There’s only one way you’re getting your last name back, and that’s by becoming a widow.”

How do I explain to a fucking neurologist that I need my brain scanned because I’m too obsessed with my wife? That I’ve been so void of feelings for so long, I now can’t stop feeling things. That I’ve been laughing, smiling, and lusting over her. That I care. And that there is no logical explanation other than a tumor. Or some kind of brain-eating disease that’s causing this. Because I’m not built to feel love. And yet, I think I do.

“I feel like we’re animals in a zoo being viewed. Say something,” she whispers.

Daddy Finn. Hot. As. Fuck.

“You drive me insane, wife. Do you honestly think I have the time or patience to entertain anyone else?” He leans in closer. “You’re the only woman who’s ever had her hands on me like this. The only one who’s felt me fill her and drip down her thighs. The only one who makes my heart skip a beat. And you’re about to be the only woman I’ve ever let touch me back—look me in the eyes—as we both break for each other. So no, temptress. You’re the only one who gets this side of me. Understand how rare that is.”