Kiss of Death Boxset

by LP Lovell

  His hand leaves me and he steps away, stripping out of his remaining clothes. I’m still panting and my body is humming with need when he moves back between my legs. He grips my ass and lifts me, slamming his mouth over mine once more. There’s movement and he slides the shower door open before I feel a wall hit my back and the spray of water bouncing over my skin. I gasp as the icy cold liquid soaks through the shirt I’m wearing, making it stick to my skin. Dropping his head, he sucks my nipple through the material, and then, he thrusts into me so hard and fast that all the air leaves my body. I feel both invaded and complete. He’s branding me, claiming me all over again. Nero and I will never trust each other completely because we know what we’re capable of. We are two predators circling each other with a mutual respect. But I want him, and isn’t this the most primal of instincts? A simple factor bred into the DNA of every living creature…to be attracted to the strongest of the species. I am the strong, and Nero is the only one who has ever matched me. I want him because I respect and fear him, and that combination is intoxicating. This is attraction and want and need on such a basic ingrained level—it’s undeniable.

  He places hungry, open-mouthed kisses on the side of my neck, lapping at the water as it streams down my body. I break for him, surrendering and shattering apart as I cling to his broad shoulders. He throws his head back. Every muscle strains against his skin as he thrusts into me and stiffens. “Fuck!” His fingers bite into my thighs hard enough that I feel the dull sting of his short nails against my skin. His eyes lock with mine, and the silence between us is permeated only by our heavy breaths and the water hammering over tile. “Don’t run from me.” There’s an edge to the way he says it, spoken like an order, but the expression on his face is something I’ve never seen on him before, desperation.

  “I’m not running,” I say as I cup his face and lean in, brushing my lips over his. The kiss feels foreign, the gentleness of it jolting me. It’s as though we’re standing on a precipice. The predators stopping and staring at each other for a moment and wondering if perhaps there is more in this world than the thrill of the kill. I tentatively brush my tongue over his bottom lip and he pushes forward, deepening the kiss.

  He eventually pulls back, his eyes locking with mine. “You will run, Una. I know you that well.”

  I allow my fingers to trail over his warm skin, dropping my eyes to his lips in the hope that he won’t see the truth in them. I’ve never had a problem keeping my cards close to my chest where my thoughts and feelings are concerned, but Nero sees through me like glass. He’s right. It won’t be long before I have to run, and I almost feel bad about that because as much as Nero scares me—as ruthless and unforgiving as he is—I actually believe him when he says he would protect me. When he tells me I’m his, I almost want to be. I crave that sense of belonging I have when I’m with him like this, when nothing outside of us exists. But when we step out of this shower, my enemies will still be there. I know without a doubt that Nero is the biggest monster I’ve ever come across, and I’ve met some despicable people in my time. There are no lengths he will not go to in the pursuit of what he wants. Add into that an unrivalled intellect and the ability to strategize and manipulate those around him, and Nero is formidable. Yes, he could protect me. He makes me feel safe, but safety is only ever an illusion. The feeling of safety is in and of itself a weakness because it makes you sloppy. If I weren’t having his child then it would be the simplest thing in the world to allow myself to want him, to stand shoulder to shoulder with him against all who would harm us. But I am, and I can’t explain how this driving need to protect my baby overrides everything else. Nero, me, it doesn’t matter anymore.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and tilt my chin up, pressing my lips to his. He fists my hair, sending a sting of pain over my scalp that makes me hiss. Smiling against my mouth, he bites down on my bottom lip hard enough that I taste blood. His tongue swipes over the wound and he groans. “I’d almost forgotten how sweet you taste,” he breathes against my lips. “So violent.”

  He slowly lowers me to my feet, his fingers slipping over my skin. His hand traces over my breast, before brushing down my stomach. He stills there, closing his eyes as he touches his forehead to mine. I can barely breathe, barely move as he spreads his fingers wide, almost covering the bump. And then, just like that, he steps back and drops his hand.

  “I don’t like your hair like this,” he says a few seconds later, picking up a lock of hair.

  “Needs must when you’re blending in,” I say acerbically.

  He smirks. “I prefer it when you stand out.”

  “So you can see me coming?”

  “That…” He shrugs. “And so our enemies see you for what you really are; extraordinary.” My stomach clenches at his words. “Dangerous.” His fingertips trail my collarbone. “Viscous.” Drifting lower, he skims the top of my breast. “And mine,” he says, his deep voice drawing the word out. I can’t help but take solace in his words. I have never belonged, never had anyone to rely on but me. And even though I know that’s wise—I know that relying on anyone but yourself is stupid – I can’t help but want the sense of peace that he gave me a taste of before I ran. Even in the midst of chaos, he showed me a glimpse of something that I hadn’t experienced since I was thirteen years old. He had my back, and I want that. It’s sad, the fairy tale lusting of a girl who has never known anything but death. My head tells me he makes me weak, and my heart wants to lie in his arms for just a little while and rest from the never-ending vortex of death and war that seems to orbit around me.

  He places a finger under my chin, pulling my gaze to his. “I will protect you,” he vows, almost angrily. “Both of you.” I swear he can read my mind sometimes and it bothers me because I should be unreadable.

  “I’m tired,” I say, dismissing him. I can’t think about this right now, and I certainly don’t want to make promises to him that I know I’ll break. He nods and turns the shower off before wrapping a towel around me. “Don’t make me hurt you,” I say, scowling at him.

  He laughs and I get out of the shower, snagging his toothbrush from the vanity. I raise an eyebrow at him in the mirror, daring him to say anything. He simply smiles and shakes his head, and the second I’m done, he takes it from me, making a slow show of putting it in his mouth. I roll my eyes and leave the bathroom, changing into one of his shirts before crawling into bed. A few minutes later he turns the lights off and climbs in, snaking an arm around my body and pulling me back against him. “Just so you know, if you slit my throat in my sleep, there are guards outside the door and window,” he rumbles against the back of my neck.

  I glare into the darkness. “I have no weapons.”

  Warm breath caresses the strands of my hair. “You’re inventive.”

  8

  Nero

  I wake up in the morning and stretch my arm out looking for Una. The bed is still warm, but she’s gone. I get up and check the bathroom, but she’s not there. I yank on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and open the bedroom door. Louis is crouched down in front of Frank who’s slumped against the wall, clutching a broken nose. Blood pours down his chin, spilling down the front of his white shirt.

  “Where is she?” I sigh.

  Louis flinches when he meets my gaze. “She said she was going to the kitchen.”

  I swipe my hand over my face and head down the stairs in search of her. The second I step into the hallway, Zeus greets me. George is nowhere to be seen which means he’s with Una. I go to the kitchen, but she’s not there. I search nearly every room before realizing she might be in the other kitchen at the back of the house. Opening the door, I push aside the plastic dust sheets hanging on the other side. Footprints, accompanied by paw prints, mark the fine layer of dust coating the floor. I round the corner and find Una sitting on the kitchen island with George at her feet staring up at her. She’s clutching a mug in her hand and taking marshmallows from a bag beside her. She pops one in her mouth before offering one to Ge
orge, completely unbothered by the total destruction surrounding her. The exterior wall is halfway through being re-bricked, and the plastic sheeting covers the gaping hole that leads outside.

  “Admiring your handy work?” I say, folding my arms over my chest.

  She glances at me briefly before turning her attention back to George. “If I’d known it was going to be your house I might have blown more of it up.” Her lips pull up at the corner as she strokes George’s head. “Or mounted Arnie’s head on the front gate.”

  “You shouldn’t be in here. It’s not structurally sound.” She ignores me and I push away from the wall, approaching her. I glance inside her mug and see hot chocolate, marshmallows swimming in the brown liquid. “Marshmallows for breakfast?” I say and she shrugs. “And there was me thinking you liked blood in the mornings.” I wrap my fingers around her wrist, halting her hand halfway to her mouth. I bring her hand closer and wrap my lips around her fingers, stealing the sugary little lump. Her eyes darken and narrow as she tries to glare at me. “Did you really have to break Louis’ nose?” I ask.

  “If you want me to stay here, then you should probably warn your men what will happen if they touch me. He’s lucky it was just his nose,” she snaps. I love that she can’t tolerate anyone else’s touch but mine. “Now, I let you off yesterday, but now I want to know where the fuck my sister is.” Her expression morphs into something hard and aggressive.

  “I told you, she’s safe.”

  “Where? Because I don’t see her, and all your best men are here with you, so how can she possibly be safe?”

  “Nicholai knows about her.”

  Her eyes snap to mine. “Says who?” I hesitate and watch her jaw tighten in aggravation.

  “It doesn’t matter…”

  “No, if you know anything about Nicholai, that means you have someone on the inside. Who is it?” She glares at me for long moments. “Who?” she shouts.

  “Sasha,” I say. She presses her hand against my chest and pushes me out of the way, hopping down off the counter. I watch as she paces backwards and forwards a few times. “You went behind my back.”My temper spikes, manifesting itself with cold efficiency.

  “You weren’t exactly around and he came to me.”

  She stops and drops to a crouch the way she does when she needs to think. “Where is Anna?” she asks quietly.

  “Mexico.”

  She slowly lifts her head, her gaze locking on mine. “You left her with the fucking cartel?”

  “She’s with Rafael. She’s safe.”

  She laughs humorlessly and tilts her head back to the ceiling. Her eyes drift closed and she takes a deep breath. “It’s the fucking cartel. They aren’t like your precious Italians. They don’t have ethics or a code. They’d sell their own mother for more power. If Nicholai knows about her, she is not safe.”

  “Even Nicholai won’t go to war with the cartel.”

  “People can be bought, Nero. And Nicholai will pay any price, because if he gets her, he knows he has me.”

  “No.” I step forward and pull her to her feet. “No, he does not have you. And if he gets Anna, he still won’t have you.”

  “I want to talk to her.” She sounds tired, almost hopeless, and it annoys me, because she doesn’t get to give up. She doesn’t get to be anything other than the indestructible force I know her to be.

  “Come on.” I walk us out of the kitchen and close the door behind her. A few of my soldiers linger in the hallway. Una drops her face to the ground as we walk past them. Maybe it’s habit, years of hiding her face and not wanting to be recognized, but she can’t hide from them. They’re my men.

  The dogs follow us into the office and I close the door, taking a seat behind the desk. Una perches on the edge of the desk, my oversized tracksuit bottoms dangling over her feet. She looks so delicate wearing my clothes, her stomach subtly protruding in front of her, but her body language sings a different song. Her shoulders are tense, her eyes surveying everything and taking in minute details. The way she sits appears casual, but every muscle is rigid, primed. I put the office phone on loud speaker and call Rafael. He picks up on the third ring. “Nero, you crazy motherfucker. How are you?” He greets in his heavy Spanish accent.

  My lips twitch. I’m fond of Rafael, but he’s bordering on insane. His loyalties are solid, which is why I sent Anna to him. And despite the fact that he’s unhinged, his reputation is enough to keep others away from him, and in turn, her. “Good. I need to speak to Anna.”

  There’s a pause. “Nero, my friend. I love that you slaughter the villagers and kill their dogs,” he rambles in that distracted way of his, “but I’m not sure little Anna is ready to speak to you.”

  “It wasn’t a request, Rafael.”

  He laughs, long and hard, until Una leans over, growling over the phone. “Listen, you malparido.” Subtle as always. “Put my sister on the line before I come to your shithole town myself and shove my gun down your throat.”

  He laughs again. “Is that your way of flirting with me, Ángel de la muerte?”

  Una sighs, turning her fierce gaze on me. “Her foreplay tends to involve knives, Rafael. Now, get Anna.”

  He laughs, and then, the line goes silent for a few moments. I stand up to leave, but Una’s hand shoots out, grabbing my forearm. We both glance down at the spot where her hand is locked on my wrist, and I don’t know who’s more shocked, me or her.

  “What if…what if she doesn’t remember?” she whispers in a rare show of vulnerability.

  “She’ll remember, Morte. You’re family.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut and swallows heavily. Her hand slips from my arm as she nods her head once. I grip her chin and tilt her face back, placing a hard kiss on her lips before I leave the office. Zeus follows me, but George stays with Una. The second I step out of the office, Gio is next to me. “You know she’s going to run at some point, right?” he says.

  “I know. Make sure the men are ready.”

  He nods and peels away. Gio organizes everything so I don’t have to. And of course, right now, I’m busy with Una. I know she wants to make sure I never see that baby, and maybe it’s wise, but I don’t fucking care. She’s going to run, and I’ll be ready for her, but I’ve learned never to underestimate Una. You can never have enough men, enough fire power, or enough back up plans when it comes to that woman. Add in the fact that causing her any harm is out of the question, and I’m on edge, terrified she’s going to slip away from me. If I lose her now, she’ll be nothing more than a whisper on the wind. I’ll never find her, and certainly not before she has my baby.

  9

  Una

  “Hello.” The small voice comes over the line, and my heart lets out an awkward, heavy thump. I have imagined so many times what I would say if I ever found her, and yet right now, I’ve got nothing. Not one word. My mouth opens and closes a few more times as I grapple with foreign emotions.

  “Hey,” I finally manage.

  Silence. I wonder if this is as hard for her as it is for me. But honestly, I hate this because I know what she went through. My life was no cakewalk, but Nicholai was right about one thing. He did make me strong. Anna was relegated to a life where she was continuously made to feel weak, day after day. Month after month.

  “Thank you for helping me,” she says.

  “I…you’re my sister,” I pause. “I looked for you.”

  “I know. Rafael told me.”

  Another long pause. “I will get you out of Mexico. I will. It’s just not safe right now.” I hate that I’ve managed to save her, but for what? So she can be a pawn to my enemies.

  “I’m safe with Rafael.” There’s a softness to her voice, a fondness. I want to ask her if she’s okay, but of course she’s not. Anna will never be okay. This entire exchange is awkward because in reality we are complete strangers to one another.

  “Okay. Well, I love you.” The words feel strange and cold on my tongue. Words I haven’t spoken since I pointed
a gun at Alex’s head and pulled the trigger.

  She says nothing, and then the line clicks off. I sit at Nero’s desk and grip the arms of his chair hard enough that my fingers start to throb. My emotions bubble over. A single tear tracks down my cheek, and I let it. A single tear for my sister. A single tear for all that we lost, all that was taken from us. A single tear for the fact that sheer fate put me here and her there, and what if our roles had been reversed? The irony is that I would never have survived her fate, and she might have ended up in the exact same place anyway. Because had I not fought that very fate so hard, Nicholai never would have pulled me out for training. I want to scream and cry at the world for being so cruel, for stripping us of family and a sense of belonging and making us nothing more than objects. Anna, a possession for nothing more than pleasure, and me, a weapon. We once were a family. We once had each other, loved each other unconditionally. I look down, resting my hand on my stomach. Unconditional love. What would that feel like? What would it look like? The unwarranted adoration of a child? That blinkered ability for someone so innocent to see you through rose-tinted glasses. Isn’t that the way I used to see Nicholai, as a savior? Until one day, I suddenly realized that my knight in shining armor was in fact the very monster I needed saving from. For a second, I picture Nero with a tiny baby in his arms, and then, in an instant, that image changes to a teenage boy, his father putting a gun in his hand and forcing him to shoot a boy chained to a wall in a cold, concrete room.