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February 19 - February 23, 2024
Daddy has a habit of exaggerating, though, according to my big brothers Cash—short for Cassius, which he hates to be called—and Palmer.
“You look tired, Helene. Are you not sleeping well?” A knot forms in my throat. Resentment burns in my lungs—she and Daddy are the only ones who call me by my full name, and I loathe it.
My head snaps up as a tall man in an all-black suit steps onto the balcony, hands in his pockets and curly, dark brown hair blowing slightly with the wind. But it’s his eyes I focus on. Deep violet one step and impossible, angry blue the next. For some reason, I recognize them. Recognize the British accent. And I know I’m in trouble.
“It’s okay to admit you were out for blood tonight, Ms. Primrose. I know I was.” More silence. Makes the air thick, rife with omissions.
“I’m surprised to see you here, though. Without a pair of handcuffs, that is.” “I can assure you my bedroom habits have nothing to do with what parties I attend.”
Growing up, my father cultivated a myriad of aspirations. Keeping a wife wasn’t one of them, so Alistair’s mum raised him on her own, and mine vanished not long after we moved to the States.
Luckily, a man known to be far more dangerous than me decided to have mercy, for once in his life. He bailed me out, got my sentence reduced, and rescued the pub before it could be collected in civil assets forfeiture. Unfortunately, that meant I owed the man, and I don’t like debts. So, for years I worked as Dr. Kal Anderson’s associate, part fixer and part private investigator, while he figured out a way to extract himself from the Mafia. Eventually, he did—by stealing his don’s daughter and forcing her to marry him. But that’s not my story to tell.
You’d never guess the man has a young wife and two kids at home by just looking at him, but after being his closest—and only—confidant for most of my adult life, I can certainly see the signs. Kal Anderson is happy, and he bloody well deserves it.
Jonas Wolfe stares, those violet eyes piercing straight through me. God, he smells good. Like tobacco and coffee, smoldering in a leather jacket and ripped jeans right before me.
Pausing, he adjusts the collar of his suit jacket, revealing the small pomegranate tattoo on his wrist. I cock a brow at the ink, aware of the Hades and Persephone dynamic he and his wife indulge, but don’t question it.
“You’d do well not to make such antagonistic assumptions, little puppet. Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I won’t. I’m more than happy to rearrange my plans.”
“How would Daddy feel if he knew where you were right now? If he knew the man who once held his life in the palm of his hand was currently cradling your cheek and fantasizing about just how wet he can get you?”
“Buried body clause.” His mouth forms a terse line. “No, Lenny. Damnit, not again.” I reach for another mint. “Buried. Body. Clause.”
Imagine the look on her father’s face when he realized I’d soiled his precious baby girl. Tainted her soul and marked her as mine.
“Hey, man,” the frat boy complains, his eyebrows drawing in as he turns with her. “We were having a conversation, dickhead.” “And now you’re not. Find someone else’s girlfriend to snog before I beat seven shades of shit out of you.”
When I lean down and press my lips to hers, the entire background of the pub seems to melt away. My tongue prods the seam of her mouth, and it opens on the softest sigh, beckoning me to explore. And right then, I know. I’m fucked.
“First thing you should know,” he says, or breathes, rather. Like the kiss we just shared dragged the air from his lungs the same way it did mine. “I don’t share. Ever.”
“The only sharing I’m interested in when it comes to you, is ensuring my cock gets as much time with your cunt as my lips. Believe me, love, when I say you won’t require more than that.”
“I’d be just as happy to bend you over the bar and make you see stars, little puppet.”
“Would you rather I tell you, mate?” I pause, tapping him forcefully. “All right, here it is. I’ve come to collect my fiancée, and I don’t appreciate you putting your dodgy hands on her. I suggest you remove them now, or I’ll be forced to make you my third victim on Primrose property.”
“We can’t help who we love,”
“I won’t be kept from you,” Jonas murmurs, his words hot and damp as they send a flurry of goose bumps across my skin. Even as my terror spikes, flaring like an infection in my veins, there’s something else, too. Something that keeps me from fleeing. Excitement.
Passions and work don’t have to equate. That’s not why I do this.”
Passion and work don’t have to line up, but it certainly makes life a bit easier when they do.
“Still shouldn’t have let her in. You think those bars on the windows are here to keep you inside?” My eyes narrow, his terseness unnerving me. “Since that’s pretty much what you told me they were there for? Yeah, that was my assumption. Call me fucking crazy.” “You’re bloody insane,”
My father’s face flashes before me, bright and smiling even when his world was falling apart. Blame was crowned on his head, and the weight of his associations came crashing down, resulting in his death at the behest of Tom Primrose.
Lenny isn’t Shakespearean blank verse; she’s a Greek tragedy waiting to happen. She just doesn’t know it yet.
My father had a direct hand in that growth. Eventually, so did Thomas Primrose. Just like he had a hand in my father’s death.
“I reject the notion that I’d notice anyone but you,” he says quietly, piercing my heart with the tenderness of his words.
One thing’s for certain: if no one else, Jonas is watching. Paying attention. For some reason, I find that as exhilarating as it is terrifying.
It doesn’t matter, I suppose, although I would have liked to see the look on her face when she realized I’d gone back. The idea of a smile gracing her delicate face because of something so bloody simple makes my cock hard as a fucking rock.
“Perhaps we don’t know each other’s favorite songs and worst nightmares, but you can be soulmates and still not be aware of those things. Some connections are physical, love. Tangible. You know them when you feel them.”
“I wouldn’t need to bribe you.” “No?” “No,” I agree. “You’re as desperate for my cock as it is for you, you just don’t want to be. I bet if I slid my hand into your shorts right now, I’d find all the evidence I need.”
“I’ve seen how you react when a stranger makes sexual advances toward you,” I tell her, backing up so I’m straddling the doorway. “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?” Reaching for the doorknob, I toss her a wink before I turn to go and get dressed. “We aren’t strangers.”
“I’m a Cancer,” I say finally, propping my knee up so it’s in the seat with me. Jonas frowns. “That’s no way to talk about yourself, love.” “What?” My face twists up. “No, not like that. My zodiac sign. My birthday is June twenty-fifth.” “November fourth.” Scoffing, I shake my head. “You would be a Scorpio.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart. Not every day you get to shake hands with the man who almost took your husband from you.”
“You want to come while he’s watching?” Jonas whispers, and I almost spit out my drink. “Show him, love. Prove to him who you belong to.”
“To new discoveries,” Jonas says, pinning Preston with a solemn look, before raising his free hand and sucking on the tips of his fingers. Sucking me off of him. “And delicious brunches.”
“They don’t matter,” he rumbles, his voice dropping so its low vibrations echo in my chest, “because once I’m inside of you, splitting you open and filling your cunt with so much cum you choke, you won’t remember anyone else existed.”
“This is what I think about, you know. When I fuck my fist every night, it’s to the thought of my little puppet on her knees, letting me command her strings.”
“God, I miss your fire. Sure made holding you down while my friends made you their bitch a lot more fun.”
“The next time I find you alone with him,” Jonas rumbles, “he’s dead.”
The problem with her is that I’ve known all along she would be trouble. I just fear I’ve miscalculated what kind she’d be.
“If I don’t ignore you, I won’t get anything done.” He tugs on my hair, stealing a gasp from my lips. “All I can think about anymore is how bloody magnificent you looked with my cock in your mouth, and how I’m dying to return the favor.”
I reason that I don’t need to hear the rest, anyway. I can fill in the blanks, and I’ve already made up my mind. Preston Covington will not survive me.
“God,” she cries out, laving over my tip before I push back in. “Incorrect again.” My hips flex, the warm constriction of her mouth drawing a groan from my chest. “Though if this is your idea of worship, I’ll be yours. You can pray to me anytime if that means choking on my cock.”
I don’t know how to tell her that she feels like fucking Heaven, sending waves of euphoria spiraling through my chest. At the same time, she’s hell, too; wicked, delicious sin crafted especially for my taste buds and served on a silver fucking platter.
“Do you think people don’t take notice when the light in their lives goes out?” He gives me a sad smile, and it doesn’t meet his dark eyes. “For those of us living in the dark, it’s obvious.”
“Careful, love. You’re playing with fire.” Grinning, she withdraws her hand but doesn’t look at all remorseful. “Maybe I want to get burned.”
