by Mia Knight
Tears shimmered in her eyes like unshed diamonds. “This isn’t about you, Gavin.”
“Then why am I bleeding?” He pushed through her folds, forcing her pussy to take him. “You’re pulling away from me because of some dead phantom. I won’t allow it. They’re not here. I am.” He pulled out and then slammed back in, which made her grit her teeth against the pain.
“They’re not allowed in my bed or in our relationship. You need to know exactly where you are and who you belong to.”
“I know who I belong to,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Then say it.”
She glared at him mutinously. He wouldn’t accept half measures from her. He rode her hard, never breaking eye contact with that feral silver blue gaze. His wife wanted to challenge him. He didn’t mind as long as she could take the heat. Battling with her fed his darker needs.
Despite his superior strength and knowledge of combat, she still put up a fight. He liked the tears and even her anger. He would take anything over the inanimate doll she became when she allowed the past into her head. He wouldn't allow it. Vega was dead, and they were moving on. He wouldn't let her wallow in the past.
“You’re heartless,” she said raggedly.
“I’m keeping you with me.”
“I am with you.”
“No, you aren’t.” He pressed his forehead against hers, and when she tried to turn her face away, he grabbed it and turned it back to him. She fought him, but he held her down, bruising her in his quest to keep her right where he wanted her. He was jealous of those who haunted her nightmares. She was his, no one else’s, and certainly not Steven Vega’s. He was nothing, a pissant, a coward. He was ash now, and that was all that mattered.
“You have no one to fear,” he said as he thrust hard enough to make her gasp. “You don’t belong to them; you belong to me.”
“I know that!”
“Then look at me. Feel me. You feel that cock stretching you? That’s throbbing for you? That’s all that matters.”
He wasn’t deep enough. He jerked out and flipped her onto her stomach and positioned her on her hands and knees. He forced her head down, gripped her hips, and let his beast reign. He pounded her tender ass. She screamed, and he gloried in it. It fed his bloodlust. The only one she needed to fear was him.
When she was raw and pleading, he turned her over and slipped back into her. She stared up at him, face streaked with tears. He gripped her face as he drove his aching cock into her.
“Do you understand?” he hissed.
She nodded.
“They don’t get to take you from me. Not a minute, not even in your fucking dreams. Every time they intrude, I’m bringing you back any way I see fit. You understand?”
Her breath hitched, and she reached between them and gripped his cock, which jerked.
“Make me forget, Gavin.”
He fucked her hard and smothered her face when she screamed. When he came inside her, his vision flashed white. He collapsed on top of her and tried to catch his breath. When he gathered the strength to move, he peeled their sweaty skin apart and found that she was passed out beneath him.
He was such a good husband. He fucked the nightmares right out of his wife. He checked her to make sure he hadn't done too much damage, then went into the bathroom to clean himself. Leaning toward the mirror, he examined the scratches on his face, which were seeping blood. His wife was a wild one. He brought back a washcloth to wipe his dripping seed. No blood. She didn’t stir, which pleased him. This is how his wife should be—so worn out from fucking that she slept peacefully.
He examined her ass, which was red and showed the promise of bruising. He placed her in bed and brushed her damp hair from her face. Lyla was his sleeping beauty—gold hair, blue eyes, and oh so innocent before he entered her life. She let the big bad wolf get her and even came with a wicked father who wanted to do her harm.
Lyla was a far cry from the innocent who offered him her virginity. Being in his world changed her and tailored her into the woman he needed—a woman who would stand beside him and protect what was theirs. He approved of her bite. His eyes lingered over the faint tear trails on her cheeks. He wouldn’t allow her dreams of phantoms and other dead people to affect her thoughts and feelings. There was enough to keep her occupied in the present. Besides, only he was allowed to make her cry.
He kissed her pouty lips and skimmed his fingertips over her skin while she lay pliant and still in his arms. He traced the scars on her chest over and over, as he had on so many other nights. Wrath burned in his gut. He allowed the fire to course through his veins. He may not be the crime lord any longer, but he would make sure to keep his edge. There was bound to be some idiot who wanted to challenge him. He would hit back so hard no one would dare touch what was his.
Just before sunrise, Lyla let out a whimper. He looked down and saw her features screwed up in acute mental anguish. He tipped her on her back and spread her legs. He pressed against her opening and eased the head in. She went rigid and tried to get away, but he kept her where he wanted her, taking his cock.
“You feel me, baby?” he murmured. “I’m the baddest motherfucker in the city. I’m the only one you need to worry about. Tell them fuck off and come play with me.”
Lyla frowned, still locked in her bad dream. Her hands plucked at the sheets and her legs jerked, but she wasn’t coordinated enough to put up a fight. Good. He didn’t want to tussle so early in the morning. He was in the mood to savor. He watched her face as he eased in and out of her pussy. She looked confused as hell, which made him grin.
“I like seeing you helpless,” he murmured in her ear. “Even in sleep, you respond to me. You’re getting wet. Such a good girl. You know daddy’s voice, hmm?”
She gave him another whimper, but she wasn’t near tears anymore. She was still locked in sleep while he played her body.
“You sore, baby? Is that why you’re squeezing me so tight?” He licked her ear and then bit down. “Good. You’re gonna think of me every time you try to sit or bend over today.”
Her face screwed up again, and her hands twitched at her sides. Even as he rocked in and out of her, a tear slid out of the corner of her eye.
“I dream of your dad too, but in it, I’m slitting his throat,” he confessed as he licked away the tear and peppered kisses over her face when her breathing hitched in distress. “You’re safe with me … for the moment.”
He stroked her rounded stomach. She wasn’t as thin as she had been before Nora. The pregnancy weight turned into muscle, which she had begun to use against him. It fired up his blood. His wife was being trained into a warrior and had no qualms about using her newfound knowledge and strength against him. He loved it.
“I’ll train you so you can last longer than a few minutes when we spar. Maybe I’ll get you pregnant when I have you bound and gagged in the basement.” The memory of the last time they fucked in the basement made him groan. “I better fuck you raw now. Can’t fuck you too rough when you’re pregnant.”
He stopped so he wouldn’t blow. It was amazing how, even unconscious, she threatened his control. This small woman affected him on every level. She held all the fucking cards.
“You make me feel too much. You hold my reins, baby girl. Give me a lead and I’ll destroy whoever you want me to.”
Lyla was completely relaxed now, her nightmare gone. Her thighs were spread on either side of him. He sank into her and grinned when her eyelids fluttered, almost as if she wanted to wake but couldn’t.
“Such a sound sleeper,” he crooned. “The first time you came back to me I fucked you sleeping because you made this sound …” He had to make a concentrated effort to stop his climax. “I couldn’t wait. You knew me even in sleep, just as I’d know you. We haven’t even skimmed the surface of what we can be together.”
He sat up and positioned her thighs so he could go even deeper. Her calves flexed, and she arched as her head tossed restlessly on the pillow.
Her breasts moved in rhythm with his thrusts. He willed her eyes to open so he could see them glazed with lust or shock or pleasure, but they remained closed. Her breathing was uneven and her hands gripped the pillow while beads of perspiration dotted her forehead.
He gripped her hips and punched deep. She let out a choked scream, hands flailing and hitting his chest while he groaned and filled her. He nuzzled her cheek while his cock wept happily inside her.
He kissed her cheek as she settled beneath him. “Don’t challenge me unless you want to pay the consequences.”
6
Lyla woke spread eagled in bed with a cold, wet spot under her ass and a familiar stickiness between her legs. “Fucking Gavin.”
She grit her teeth as she sat up. That fucker went to town on her last night. She hobbled into the bathroom and examined her bruised rump before she stepped in the shower. She had just finished blow-drying her hair when Gavin walked in. He wore a white button up tucked into navy slacks. His eyes were a shade lighter than usual, which told her his beast was still at the forefront. She eyed him balefully as he came up behind her and gripped the vanity on either side of her.
“Sore?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you deserved it.”
She whirled in the circle of his arms. The scratches on his cheek were noticeable, but just barely. It was typical that the scratches didn’t ruin his sex appeal. He wore battle wounds the same way he wore everything—with effortless arrogance. “I clawed you in my sleep, and I get a bruised ass?”
“You threw down.”
“I was having a nightmare. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
He lifted the back of her robe and examined her ass in the mirror. He didn’t look the least bit contrite. On the contrary, he looked pleased. “I can handle being scratched by a kitty. I don’t mind the tap on the chin you gave me either.” His fingers skimmed her swollen rump, and she tensed, waiting for another teeth-jarring smack. “It’s what you did after that set me off.”
“After?”
“You pulled away from me. You told me not to touch you.”
“When I relive that shit, I need a moment, Gavin! You’re always coming at me. You don’t let me breathe!”
He ignored her statement by pressing her tender ass against the vanity. When she made a bid for space, he pinned her hands behind her back and forced her chest against his. Seriously? She had one really bad nightmare, and he went fucking psycho alpha on her.
“You don’t need time to think or breathe in that shit. You need to stay in the present with me. They’re dead, Lyla.”
“I know they are,” she said through clenched teeth. “I can’t control my dreams.”
“You have a guilty conscience.”
“I don’t.”
“Then what was it about? Steven? Your father?” He cocked his head when she didn’t speak. “My father?”
Her heart wriggled uncomfortably. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”
He cupped her chin. “Was it Dad?”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
His thumb glided over her bottom lip. “Don’t let the past overshadow the present. We’re still here.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I know.”
“We’ve been through too much to let any of that hold us back. You don’t pull away from me. I won’t tolerate it.”
“I noticed,” she muttered and searched his face. “You don’t ever dream about … anything?”
“Rarely and when I do, it’s satisfying. I’m the one doing the killing.”
“I’m not like you,” she said quietly.
“I know.” He released her and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”
“I know.”
Hazel eyes bored into hers. “Say it back.”
“I love you, boss.”
He relaxed instantly. “That’s what I want to hear. Do you want me to stay home?”
Gavin Pyre was hot, cold, sweet, and brutal wrapped up into one confounding male. He beat her ass for something she couldn’t control and then asked her if she wanted him to stay home.
“Go to work.” It was going to be damn uncomfortable today, but she could handle it. She didn’t need him in her face. “I have stuff to do.”
He gave her a soft pat on the butt. “It’s been a while since you got a spanking.”
“That hurts, you ass!”
He gave her a wolfish grin. “That’s the point. You’ll be feeling me all day.”
“And how about in two days when we’re on the damn plane?”
“You’ll be fine by then.”
“How the hell do you know?”
“Not my first rodeo.”
She grabbed her perfume bottle and threw it at him. He laughed as he backed toward the exit.
“Why do you think I went easy on you?”
“Easy on me?” she shouted, but he was already gone. “Motherfucker.”
She surveyed her wardrobe. There was no way in hell she was going to wear jeans … or bottoms at all, for that matter. She eyed the dresses she bought for her tropical vacation. The light fabric would be her best friend today. She slipped into a fiery maxi dress with a halter neckline that covered her chest but had an open, sultry back. She secured the top with a bow on the back of her neck. She grabbed a jean jacket just in case and finished the outfit with fancy flip-flops.
When she entered the kitchen, she found Nora in a high chair with Blade eating oatmeal at the table. The dogs greeted her before they flopped on the floor. Lyla pressed kisses over her daughter’s animated face. The nightmare had been a new, terrifying one. It featured her in the pit with Steven, her father, and a bunch of men in white masks coming at her with weapons. She was holding Nora in the crook of her arm, and Manny was taking his last breaths at her feet. The arena was filled with the roar of the bloodthirsty crowd, and she had no help. She did the unthinkable, and even as she did it in the dream, Gavin was shaking her awake, which caused her to lash out. She’d slit her daughter’s throat so they wouldn’t torture her or force her to watch. What kind of mother even dreamed of such a thing?
She cupped Nora’s face with a shaking hand. “You’re safe.” It was just a dream.
When she looked up, Blade jerked his chin. She followed his silent direction and saw the painkillers waiting for her. She gave him a haughty look even as she reached for them. Gavin wouldn’t tell him, would he? She didn’t want to think about it. She fixed herself a bowl of oatmeal and decided to eat standing. Blade ignored her as he flipped through the newspaper. He had been giving her the cold shoulder since she suggested he take some time off while they went to Bora Bora. He was insulted when he should have been grateful.
“Anything interesting?” she asked.
He shook his head.
Mr. Communicative. “Are you ready for the trip?”
He grunted as he skimmed an article.
“Are the dogs fed?” He didn’t bother to answer since the dog bowls had been licked clean. Determined to get a reaction she asked, “How was your fuck last night?”
Blade eyed her reproachfully and flicked his eyes at Nora.
“Blade, she’s seven months.”
He went back to the newspaper. Blade worried about her language. She’d have to tell Carmen that one. Blade acted menacing and detached, but he was as sunk for Nora as Gavin. They were two warriors who managed to rein it in for a tiny baby. She couldn’t believe it. Blade had better luck keeping Nora quiet than she did. Even now, Nora sat in the high chair, playing with a bright hammer that would play snippets of sound whenever she hit something. How Blade could read wit
h that racket was a mystery.
“Did you stay with your booty call all night?” His black eyes flicked to her, telling her without words that he didn’t want to discuss this, but she needed a distraction, and he was the only one here. “Do you go to a strip club to pick someone?”
He folded the paper and picked up his bowl.
“Come on, Blade.”
“Gavin said no training.” Blade soaked his bowl in the sink and then turned to her. “And I didn’t stay out all night. My watch went off during your nightmare, and I took Nora downstairs while Gavin disciplined you.”
She flushed with mortification. Blade sure knew how to put her in her place.
“From the looks of it, he took it easy on you.”
She gaped. “Are you fucking serious?”
His eyes flicked to Nora again, and this time, he actually looked upset. “Watch it.”
“You think he took it easy on me? I won’t be able to sit down for days!”
“At least you can stand.”
She stared at him. “Seriously?”
He shrugged. “You marked him.”
She stomped her foot. “A tiny scratch!”
“Gavin’s on a hair trigger, and he doesn’t have another outlet.”
“And I’m supposed to be the punching bag?”
“You can channel his energy any way you choose. I’d say from his mood this morning, he enjoyed it, so keep doing whatever you want, just be prepared for consequences.”
“You guys are messed up.” Blade was like a fucked-up Yoda, giving her advice to tame Gavin.
“You’re dressed to go out,” he said, ignoring her outrage.
“I’m taking the dogs to Aunt Isabel’s.”
He glanced at his watch. “Departure time about an hour from now?”
“Yes.”
He reached for his phone and began to make some calls. Blade and Gavin weren’t taking any chances. She had an escort of ten to twenty guards whether she was going to the salon or her aunt’s house. The security detail would meet to discuss the route and have an emergency plan in place before they left.
Blade wandered out of the room, leaving her with Nora. She went to the baby and ran her finger along her daughter’s tiny neck and shivered. Killing her father and Steven in cold blood changed her. She didn’t think the same, and her moral compass hadn’t found a true North yet. There was a darkness inside her that she couldn’t purge. Now she knew what she was capable of. She would maim, murder, and torture to protect or avenge. What kind of mother was she? At times, she wanted to confide in Gavin, Blade, or Carmen about her dreams, fears, and sanity, but she already knew what they would say. Either they would placate her and say it would pass, or tell her they had the same dark thoughts. She wasn’t sure which was worse.