A Heart of Shame

by Kristen Banet

  “He sounds amazing,” Vincent chuckled. “I’m fucking… destroyed that I never got to meet him.”

  “I know,” Sawyer groaned. “He was. I wish I had done better.”

  “You did the best you could,” Vincent whispered. Their eyes met, and Sawyer swallowed a lump in her throat. Had she? She didn’t know, and it was too late to go back. She could only keep moving forward. Something in his eyes was offering her… something. “Sawyer…”

  “Say it,” she whispered.

  “None of it was your fault,” he said with a conviction that made her heart skip. “Thank you for being with him while you were. He wasn’t your fault.”

  They were silent for a long time, letting the same home videos play over and over again. Sawyer just watched him. He was so handsome, Vincent Castello. He made her frustrated because she wanted to hate him. But here, when she finally saw how truly vulnerable he was, her heart ached. She’d been wrong. He wasn’t Axel at all, in any way, except superficial ones.

  Vincent cared. He had the great capacity to be cold and detached, but damn him, he was a haunted, broken man. And in Sawyer’s mind, the only thing that mattered was that he cared.

  About Henry and Midnight. Her.

  That changed something in her while she looked at him.

  “What time is it?” Vincent asked gruffly, and she looked around, snapped out her thoughts. She snatched his phone off the floor and swayed.

  “Three in the morning,” she concluded. “Bed time.”

  “Yes,” he groaned. They both tried to stand up at once and stumbled into each other.

  Sawyer looked up at him and saw all the differences.

  All the things that made this Castello a man named Vincent and not Axel.

  His hands slowly took her waist and her hands traveled up his chest as they found their steadiness together. Heat hit her belly as their chests were close enough to brush against each other.

  She wrapped a hand around the back of his head, the lust, the grief, and the alcohol all leading to an inevitable conclusion.

  The kiss was a penance. It was sorrow.

  He pulled her closer, until there wasn’t a single spot they weren’t touching. She opened her mouth just a fraction for him, and his tongue dove in and explored her. One of his hands ended up on her back and another wrapped itself in her hair, holding her to the kiss.

  That was fine. She was holding his face to hers, continuing the kiss. Their cheeks were both damp from tears. There had been no laughter for them tonight.

  When the kiss finally broke, she met his dark, olive-green eyes.

  “My room,” he whispered huskily. “Just tonight. Just…”

  “Just tonight,” she whispered back, then kissed him again. Just tonight, she thought to herself. For some comfort, to chase away memories, to find some warmth instead of her frigid cold and nightmares. They could steal a single night.

  He picked her up, and she gasped into his lips.

  “Wrap those fucking legs around me,” he growled softly. “Please.”

  She did, and he carried her carefully all the way to his door. Up the stairs and through doors. They stopped twice for him to shove her back against a wall and kiss her. He would grind his hips against her and make her moan as his erection rubbed her through the sweats.

  He put her down when they got into his room. She didn’t pay attention to how it looked or smelled. She didn’t know where any of the furniture was. Her body was on fire, she was wet, and she wanted him. She wanted him and what he offered more than she could breathe.

  Just tonight.

  He kissed her again as she pulled his shirt open, popping the buttons. She ran a finger over the scar on his chest.

  She let him pull her tank top off. Then he broke her bra open. He growled as he took one of her nipples into his mouth, and she gasped as he gently bit down on it after giving it a long suck. She ran her nails over his abs and reached around to dig them into his back as he grew rougher.

  Just tonight.

  He pushed down her sweats, and she kicked them off once they were around her ankles. He used her hips to lift her, and they fell onto the bed together. His mouth never left the breast he was tasting the entire time. Her nails never left his back.

  He finally released her nipple and kissed down her abdomen, taking care to show attention to her scars. She ran her hands through his curly hair as he pulled down her thong and threw it somewhere else.

  She screamed out as he wasted no time pushing his tongue into her. She bucked underneath him, and he growled, using a finger to gently rub her clit. She couldn’t take it. She needed more than this.

  “Get up here,” she gasped. “Now.”

  He obliged, and she kissed him the moment his face was level with hers.

  “Get in the middle,” he ordered in a guttural voice. “I want to see you in my sheets.”

  That made her pulse spike with heat and want. She hadn’t thought her drunk ass could get hornier, but there it was. She slid up to his pillows and realized his sheets were black silk. She watched him pull off his pants and boxer briefs. Her mouth went a little dry at the sight of him, hard and ready. She wanted this. Just for tonight, she would give in and have it.

  He crawled across the bed to her and pressed himself against her opening but didn’t enter her.

  “Protection?” he asked.

  She looked at her right hand and slowly nodded. He only nodded once back before he pushed into her, forcing her to sink into the pillows and up against his headboard.

  “Vincent!” She gasped. Then she moaned as he pulled back out and shoved in again, harder than before.

  “Oh fuck, Sawyer,” he groaned, continuing the agonizingly slow pace. She moved with him, accepting every strong thrust, every slow withdraw. He made sure he hit the right spot with every thrust. He pushed her slowly up to a peak.

  Just tonight.

  Then he shoved her over it, and she could only hold on as her climax hit her like a wave. It crashed over her and sent her mind somewhere else. He just continued, kissing her as she moaned. Their eyes stayed locked together and she was overcome with a sudden possessive wave of emotion. She wanted to own him, the haunted, broken man inside her.

  She rolled them over once the sweet end of her climax stopped. She straddled him, and he looked up at her with lust, the heat in his eyes as he took in her body made her warmer than before. She wanted something a bit faster now, and she was going to take it.

  “Sawyer,” he moaned, almost reverently, as she rubbed her slit on his cock.

  “Vincent,” she murmured and sank down on him. Their sounds of pleasure filled the room as she rode him, faster than he had been going. She took him roughly as his hands roamed her body. He sat up a bit and took her nipple back into his mouth. One of his hands squeezed her ass as she worked him, taking the pleasure she wanted from him. His other hand massaged her other breast. She gasped when he pinched the nipple softly and rolled it gently in his fingers.

  She took every inch of him and drove herself back up to that peak. That spot where nothing could bother her. He began to rock and help her, holding himself upright with her body. She held onto his shoulders as she rode him, each thrust down onto him sending her higher. The sounds that came out of her echoed off the walls. His name, said a thousand times. Hers said back.

  The second climax was much like the first—groundbreaking, earth shattering, and sending her into something that resembled bliss.

  Just tonight.

  Once she was done, Vincent rolled them back over and began to thrust harder than either of them had before. She screamed. She dug her nails into his shoulders. The second orgasm spiraled downward, and then shot back up into a third for her.

  “Sawyer,” he snarled, thrusting once more into her. She moaned and bit his shoulder as his cock pulsed and she felt him cum in her.

  They didn’t move for a long time as he continued to cum and she waited for the aftershocks of her climax to fade away.


  “Just tonight,” he whispered.

  She wondered if they were just trying to convince themselves.

  She knew she didn’t believe it.

  “Just tonight,” she whispered back, trying to turn the words into a promise. Not to him, but to herself.

  They fell asleep, a tangle of limbs, two warm bodies holding each other, hoping the sun never came up, hoping the moment of respite from the rest of the world didn’t end. Hoping, when they woke up, that things wouldn’t just go back to the death, darkness, and pain of the lives they had.

  “You are the best fuck I’ve ever had, love,” he snarled at her.

  Sawyer’s eyes flew open, and she tried to remember where she was. She didn’t know. She had no idea where she was. She was nude. She was sore. Her head hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. That wasn’t good. She felt the arm slung over her abdomen and looked to see who was attached to it.

  Dark curly hair, olive skinned, and male. She bared her teeth. She was in bed with him. She jumped out of the bed and scrambled away, still confused as to where she was. She didn’t recognize the room. She needed a weapon. She needed to kill him while he was asleep. She had promised herself she would never get into bed with that murderer again. Not after what he did to Henry. Nothing was ever going to give him the use of her body again.

  “Sawyer?” A male voice called out. She turned and looked at Axel, glaring at him.

  “I can’t fucking believe you,” she snarled. “I’m going to kill you for what you did.”

  “What?” he looked genuinely baffled and very pale.

  That’s right mother fucker, she thought, be afraid.

  “Sawyer,” he mumbled. “Oh, no. It’s me, Sawyer. Vincent.” He sounded concerned, but she needed to find a knife or something. She was going to finish this. She jumped him, deciding she would just kill him with her bare hands, and he sublimated out of her reach.

  Axel couldn’t sublimate.

  She froze after she landed back on the bed.

  He reformed behind her and gently touched her.

  “Vincent,” she gasped, realizing what just happened. After she remember the night before. “Oh god…”

  “It’s okay,” he told her gently. “It’s okay.”

  It wasn’t. She had just tried to kill him. Tears filled her eyes. She began to shake as the fear wore off, but the adrenaline was still there.

  She whimpered. She hated the sound of it, and she hated herself even more in that moment because of it.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered again, pulling her into his lap. “I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’m sorry I frightened you.”

  She cried softly as the flashback wore off and the fear died. She couldn’t even sleep with someone anymore without it going horribly wrong. If he hadn’t woken up on his own, she would have murdered him while he slept.

  He rocked her in his lap slowly, running a hand through her hair.

  “I’m so fucking sorry for all he’s done to you,” he mumbled into the top of her head. “I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything to make it right, Sawyer. I’ll give you anything to fix it.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she finally choked out. God, they didn’t need to be dropping blame on themselves at every turn.

  “Yes, it is,” he whispered, broken and sad. “Because I was supposed to be his assassin. I was supposed to do the work he molded you for.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “I should have been there when he found out about Henry. I should have been there to protect the boy. You should have lived a normal life. I should never have run off and convinced the WMC to let me join the IMPO. I should have stayed with Axel and destroyed him from the inside. I should have just killed him there.” Vincent continued, and she just listened.

  “He came into his powers and went a bit mad with them,” he whispered in Italian now. “And I idolized him. He never looked at me and saw my magic; just his brother. Or so I thought. He didn’t think I was some rising star in the family. Then he played with words the way he was so good at doing… and he convinced me to kill our father. He took advantage of that and began amassing his own power. He wanted me to go with him, but I had never wanted to be a criminal like the rest of my family… so I ran.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she finally whispered again. She meant it. If there was one thing she learned, fault and blame solved nothing.

  “Yes, it is,” he said again in response. “Do you want to go?”

  “I think I should,” she mumbled. She didn’t move, though. She stayed wrapped up in his arms. They were two broken creatures left by Axel’s destructive path towards power.

  “We shouldn’t have done this,” he groaned softly, burying his face in her hair.

  “We should tell everyone… no secrets in the team and such,” she sighed, leaning into him. She didn’t know which would be worse, the act or trying to keep it a secret. Telling the other guys was the best idea. She didn’t want secrets anymore, even if it meant admitting they had screwed up by screwing. It was going to be embarrassing and painful, but she wasn’t willing to carry the weight around.

  “We will,” Vincent sighed with her. “I’ll take Elijah and Quinn… you deal with your friends.”

  “Thanks,” she huffed weakly. “They’re your friends, too.”

  “They are. You’re still shaking,” he noted, pulling back slightly.

  “I will be for a moment until the adrenaline runs its course,” she informed him, then finally broke out of his lap. She was a bit wobbly, and he reached out to steady her. His hands were warm on her hips, and, for just a second, she considered crawling back into his bed and accepting more of that warmth. Instead, she pulled out of his reach. She collected her clothing and gave him a sad smile. “Good night, Vincent.”

  “Good night, Sawyer,” he called after her as she left the room.

  Her heart hurt. She wished she could stay, but it was so… not safe for him. He might not wake up the next time, and she didn’t want to risk another flashback.

  She crept silently up to her room, unsure why she was trying to be so quiet. None of the other guys were around, or even in the same part of the state. Habit?

  As she lay in her bed, she hoped they were having a good time away from all of this.

  And she wished she could go back into Vincent’s arms and pretend nothing else existed. Not the issues with the other guys, her attraction to all of them, or the complicated feelings. Not her past. Not her legacy of pain. Just for another moment, she wished she could pretend none of it had happened.

  Just tonight.

  She had only wanted a single night.

  A sad impossibility.

  10

  Jasper

  “Atlanta!” Zander laughed, taking a deep breath of the city air. “How… I didn’t really miss you this time.” The end note was somber, and Jasper sighed at his friend,

  “Better than being in the house?” Jasper asked, shrugging. He pulled his crutches out and groaned. “Probably not.”

  “Oh, wait,” Elijah called as Jasper started to crutch away. “Don’t move, Jasper. Zander and I have something for you.”

  Jasper turned slowly with a frown. Elijah was pulling a case out of the trunk that Jasper hadn’t seen him put in. Zander was grinning like a fool at him, and Jasper grew worried.

  “What’s going on?” Jasper asked, moving back toward the Range Rover.

  “Well,” Elijah huffed, opening the locks on the case. “You aren’t going to have a good time tonight on those. And this showed up a couple days ago. I’ve been getting it ready with some added enchantments, but I think you could use it tonight and test it out before I put the finishing touches on it.”

  Jasper sat down in the back seat and leaned his crutches again the side of vehicle. He watched Elijah carefully pull a metal leg out of the case. Jasper’s jaw dropped.

  “I was going to build it myself, but I was having a really hard time with it. I contacted a company for ideas. They make custom and stylish
prosthetics. It’s what I wanted for you, and they had a wealth of knowledge about what’s needed for you to be comfortable.” Elijah chuckled and handed it to Jasper. “So together, we designed this. Something fitting for an IMPO Special Agent who’s out there helping take down the bad guys.”

  It was gorgeous, all black with silver and gold accents. It was sleek and interesting, without having that obvious prosthetic look to it. He could see where he would slide his knee in, and it would fit snugly. There was a sleeve that went on higher up the thigh to secure it. It was shaped like a real calf, a real ankle. It was sturdy as hell, since they made it out of some sort of metal, probably because of what it would go through.

  “I designed yours with their Cycle model and convinced them to let me throw in a bit extra.” Elijah continued to explain. “Then there’s a foot attachment as well, so you can wear shoes. That’s why we haven’t let you throw them out yet.”

  Jasper was stunned. He pulled it to his chest as tears formed in his eyes.

  “Since then, I’ve been doing research on physical therapy to get you accustomed to using it.” Zander said picking up where Elijah left off, “but I think you’ll be fine. We’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

  “Jasper?” Elijah asked, waving a hand in Jasper’s face.

  Jasper just held the leg for a moment. He had been better than most with losing a limb, but it still ate at him. He’d never been the best of the guys. He’d always been physically behind them. He did everything he could not to hold them back on the more strenuous activities of their jobs. Losing his fucking leg was just another added kick to the balls for him, though. He needed people to help him get around. He needed to drag crutches around everywhere.

  “Jasper. Hey, my bud. You okay?” Zander asked gently.

  “Thank you,” Jasper whispered.

  “I looked into it.” Zander sighed. “Your knee may still flair up, but we’re looking into enchantments, and there is a Magi who might be able to correct some of the issues with pain, now that you have a prosthetic.”