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And then he was everywhere. There wasn’t a part of me that Damien wasn’t touching, filling, flooding with love. The river of emotion inside of me overflowed, pouring down the sides of my face as my body stretched and my heart swelled, full to bursting with the enormity of the moment, of this man, of my awe and admiration and gratitude for him.
My awareness contracted until all I could feel were the places where we touched. All I could hear was our breathing, our bodies colliding. All I could taste was his love, his relief. And I wanted to live in that liminal space forever—the place between waking and dreaming, where I had him all to myself. Where the outside world couldn’t touch us and time didn’t exist.
But time did exist, and it was racing. I felt it in every surge of blood, every punishing thrust, every ragged breath and broken moan.
I cried out as he pushed me closer to the brink, mourning the loss of our connection before it was even over. I didn’t want to come. I didn’t want to ever feel less whole, less overwhelmingly complete, than I did with him inside of me. But our bodies had gone rogue. We’d become desperate, ravenous, frenzied things—clawing and biting, growling and crying.
I tasted Damien’s tears on my tongue as he drove into me harder, felt his agony and ecstasy as he stiffened and swelled inside of me. And when his teeth clamped down on my bottom lip and he filled me to my breaking point, I tilted my hips and took even more. His pain was my pleasure, my undoing. I wanted every drop, wanted to suck it from his body until he was free of it. Until it was mine. Claiming his mouth, I whimpered through my orgasm as I clenched and convulsed around his throbbing cock, greedily swallowing every spurt of hot cum and bitter relief that he poured into me.
There were no words exchanged. Only tears and kisses and—when I finally found the courage to open my eyes—long, lingering glances that filled me with joy.
Lifting me up so that I was straddling his lap, Damien wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my neck.
I cradled his head and stroked his hair as I finally allowed myself to look out the window and take in our surroundings.
We were sitting on the floor of a helicopter on the top of a tall building, and outside the window, in a river of blood, lay five male bodies and a still-smoking cigar.
Alexi’s corpse was gruesome. He must have been shot at least a hundred times. There was almost nothing left of his head, and his body oozed blood from so many holes that it resembled a weeping sponge. I couldn’t look.
Kneeling beside Damien, I kept my eyes on his profile while he stared directly into the pulpy void that had once been his father’s face.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, gently rubbing his back. “I know you hated him, but that doesn’t make losing your last parent any easier. Trust me, I know.”
Damien returned my gaze with sorrowful eyes, and I immediately regretted my words. He took full responsibility for my family’s deaths. I shouldn’t have brought it up.
“And I’m sorry that I couldn’t explain what was happening,” I added, changing the subject. “I didn’t expect to be unconscious while it all went down.”
Damien’s dark eyebrows shot up. “You knew about this?”
I smiled a little too brightly. “It was my idea. I brought the laptop from the cathedral here and gave it to Paul. He speaks Russian, so he was able to operate the drone software.”
Damien’s mouth fell open. “Paul’s alive?”
I nodded, plucking the lit cigar off the ground. “He and Jack were hiding out in Merchant’s Arch when I came to find you.”
“Wait. Jack’s alive too?” His gray eyes glistened as he hung on my every word.
“She’s in rough shape,” I said, brushing the dirt off the cigar. “Two gunshot wounds and probably some broken ribs, but they were wearing body armor, so they’re gonna be okay.”
Damien sighed with his entire body. “I saw them get shot. I … I thought …”
“It’s okay.” I smiled, cupping his face with my free hand. “They’re okay.”
Nodding as he struggled to process that information, Damien took the cigar out of my hand and inhaled a mouthful of smoke, releasing it along with the grief that had been weighing on his shoulders.
“So, Paul figured out how to unlock the laptop?”
“No … I, em, went and found the key.”
Damien side-eyed me as he took another drag.
There was no good way to say it, so I reached into the pocket of Kellen’s jacket and pulled out a finger wrapped in a blood-stained paper towel.
“Holy shite.” Damien choked out a cloud of smoke. “Where’d ya get that?”
“The hospital,” I said, sticking it back in my pocket. “I tried every finger on six dead soldiers before I found the right one.”
Damien shook his head at me in speechless awe, and a tingly rush of pride warmed my cheeks. Accepting the cigar in his hand, I took a long puff and allowed myself to enjoy that tiny moment. To savor Damien’s admiration and the flavors of vanilla and spice and a sweet, earthy cedar on my tongue.
