Moonstruck (Necessary Evils, #3)

by Onley James

“I’m not gay,” Atticus managed, sounding unsure even to himself. The stranger grinned, and Atticus’s stomach did somersaults. “Yeah, but you’re not straight either, are you?” “I’m a psychopath,” Atticus blurted. The stranger leaned forward, his whisper conspiratorial. “I’m a Scorpio. I still like banging dudes.” “I—” Atticus stopped then. “I don’t know what to do with that information.”

“I always wanted to suck off a ginger. Do you taste different?” “That’s offensive,”

“So, why are you here?” he asked in a prissy tone that went straight to Jericho’s dick. “Honestly,” Jericho said, stepping between Atticus’s splayed knees, “I have no idea. You’re kind of under my skin. I think it’s the freckles. I’m a sucker for freckles.”

“I watched you cut a guy’s fingers off during a racist game of Jeopardy. I guess I thought there was a cone of silence thing happening here. Don’t friends have secrets?”

Jericho wanted to own Atticus. To keep him. To protect him. He wanted to be his safe place to land. Wanted Atticus to be as vulnerable out of the bedroom as he was inside it.

“I like to tease you because I think you’re sexy as fuck when you’re all riled up. I tease you because it makes you blush all the way to the tips of your ears. I tease you because it gets my dick hard when you get all prickly. I tease you, Freckles, because I cannot get enough of you.” Atticus heard himself swallow. “I’m not…prickly.” Jericho snickered. “Freckles, a cactus is tame in comparison.

“We live very dangerous lives. If we don’t jump on the things we want when we want them, we might never get to.” Jericho had a valid point. He could feel himself wavering. “I’m not letting you go, Freckles. I’m just not. You can call it a business arrangement, an affair, a kidnapping, some kind of midlife crisis. But whatever you call it, you’re mine. And I protect what’s mine.”

Jericho kissed him again. “Good. ‘Cause I have no problems killing to protect what’s mine. I’m sure you know that by now.” Atticus slipped his thigh between Jericho’s, snuggling closer to tuck his head against his chest. “I know. I don’t like killing, but I’d kill for you, too.” Jericho’s stomach fluttered. “I know, Freckles. I know.”

Atticus always reacted so intensely to any random sign of affection. It made Jericho sad. Was Atticus really a psychopath, or had nobody taken the time to try to love him?

Was Atticus an annoyingly finicky perfectionist? Yes. But he was Jericho’s annoyingly finicky perfectionist and he would protect what was his, even if it meant hacking off his future in-laws’ appendages until they got the point.

He needed to know that Atticus was as territorial as he was, as fucked up over him as he was over Atticus. That he’d kill for him. Die for him. That this obsessive compulsion was a two-way street. That there was some kind of unspoken agreement that the only way out of this relationship—no matter how fucked up—was if one of them stopped breathing.

He took his time, relaxing Atticus with deep, drugging kisses that seemed to melt all the worry from him until he forgot to overthink everything, until there was nothing else in the world but Jericho. Was that greedy? He didn’t care. He needed to be his sole focus. The one person who knew the key to unlocking the real Atticus, equal parts brilliant killer and eager submissive. But only for Jericho.

“They do your grocery shopping, too, Freckles? What kind of magical building do you live in?” Atticus rolled his eyes. “One with concierge services.” Jericho shook his head. “You’re so spoiled. Have you ever seen the inside of a grocery store?” “In real life?” Atticus asked without a trace of humor. “No. The lighting looks so…anemic. Kind of like something out of a horror movie.” “You’re adorable.

I found you. Followed you. Figured I could carve up you and your friends and leave a massacre big enough to stop anybody from talking.” Jericho scoffed. “You were going to murder all of them? You thought you could subdue seven men by yourself?” Carlos looked over the sea of faces. “I thought they were children.” Jericho gave the man a malicious smile. “Thank you for your honesty.” Atticus

“Who are you fucking people?” Jericho’s smile unnerved even Atticus. “Neighborhood watch.”

Jericho glanced over his shoulder to see Felix standing almost shoulder to shoulder with Atticus. Seeing the two of them together was like a sucker punch to his heart.

Jericho smiled. God, he fucking loved him. He didn’t love the way his brothers constantly taunted him, though. He was going to end up fighting the entire Mulvaney clan if they didn’t back off of Atticus.