by Kali Argent
Isla chuckled, her warm breath fanning over his lips, and until that moment, he hadn’t realized he’d been talking out loud.
“I love you for you, Slade. I know exactly who you are, and I want it. I want all of you, even the rough edges. You give me what I need, and I’d say that’s a good thing.”
He couldn’t help but ask, “What do you need, tava.”
“Right now, all I need is you.”
Their lips met again, slow and tender this time, and he moaned into her mouth, clutching her tightly in one arm, desperate to keep her with him always.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He whispered the words over and over as he petted her hair and caressed her cheeks. “I was afraid, and I didn’t handle it very well. Forgive me.”
He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, not ever, but he could tell Isla without fear of judgment or ridicule. She didn’t expect him to be strong all the time. She didn’t give a damn if he was alpha of his pack, and she didn’t need him to always have the answers.
“Of course I forgive you, but tell me why. Why were you afraid?”
“Because people I love leave.”
His parents hadn’t wanted him. Neither had Ursa.
“Then maybe you’ve loved the wrong people,” Isla whispered. “Maybe they did leave, but look at all the people who stayed. Your brothers. Your crew.”
“You.”
Her eyes softened, and she smiled as she cupped his cheek in her soft, warm hand. “Me.”
Nuzzling into her palm, Slade shivered as the last piece of the wall came crashing down. “I love you, Isla Blevins.” Taking her hand, he held it aloft as he skimmed his nose along her wrist, inhaling her faint perfume. “Stars, I love you so much.”
He’d only thought he’d been in love with Ursa, but what he’d felt for the Krytos female was a dim comparison to the flood of emotions Isla evoked within him. He’d move fucking mountains for her. He’d go to battle for her. He’d die for her without a second thought.
While probably not noticeable to anyone else, Slade knew he’d changed since he’d met Isla. When making decisions, he wondered what she would say, how she would proceed. He hadn’t been very successful, but he’d tried to soften himself for her, to be less demanding. Had she not been with him at Iniquity, he would have ripped Jorkin’s throat out and not thought twice about it. She deserved better than a killer, and just as importantly, she’d needed him far more than he’d needed to slake his bloodlust.
Sliding his hands up her thighs again, he reveled in the feel of her soft skin as he pushed the hem of her dress over her hips. He’d expected some type of undergarments, but when he pulled the dress off over her head and discarded it on the floor, he found only smooth, bare flesh.
The sight of her pulled a growl from deep in his chest, and blood rushed to his groin. Her breasts swayed when she tossed her hair over one shoulder, and her nipples hardened into tiny peaks that practically begged for his mouth. Drinking in her luscious curves, he followed the sleek lines of her body down her flat stomach to the apex of her thighs.
His mouth watered, and his cock throbbed with the pulse of his pounding heart. Gripping her heart-shaped behind in both hands, he squeezed the firm globes as he lifted her onto the desk and tugged her toward the edge. When she leaned back on her elbows and gave him a sultry grin, he hooked his arms under her knees and parted her thighs, opening her to his gaze.
Her folds parted as he pushed her knees out to the sides, the pink flesh slick and glistening. Lowering his head, he laved a slow path along her crease, pulling a strangled gasp from her. He teased her with light touches and gentle strokes, exploring, learning what she liked and what she didn’t. When she began to writhe atop the desk, murmuring his name under her breath, he pushed her harder, probing his tongue deep within her core.
Her muscles tightened, and her legs began to shake as she neared the pinnacle. When he closed his mouth around her swollen clit, she arched up from the desk, and at the first caress of his tongue, she called his name as she tumbled over the edge.
Slade had never seen anything more beautiful. “Again.”
He pushed two fingers deep within her clenching tunnel and pumped hard and fast as he used his tongue to draw quick circles around the taut bundle of nerves. Isla went wild, her inner walls clamping around his digits as she rocked up to meet his mouth. Incoherent babbling spilled from her lips, and perspiration glistened over her dewy skin like a million tiny stars.
“Again,” he demanded, curling his fingers on the next inward stroke.
Her eyes flew open, and her lips parted in a silent scream as her body quaked, spilling a fresh rush of warmth into his palm.
Sitting back in the desk chair, he unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down, arching upward to push the leather off his hips, freeing his straining erection. Wound too tight, too close to the edge already, he couldn’t wait any longer. Lifting Isla from the desk, he flipped her around, pressing her back to his chest as he lowered her onto his lap.
Straddling his thighs, she gripped his cock, giving it a few long strokes, and held the crown to her slick entrance. She inhaled deeply, releasing the breath in measured increments as she slid down his length until her pert ass brushed against the tops of his thighs.
They both paused, each clutching to some semblance of self-control, but at the first thrust, their good intentions dissolved into a desperate frenzy. Leaning back against his chest, Isa rested her head on his shoulder, her arms coming up to encircle his neck, giving Slade unrestricted access to her gorgeous body.
Slipping one hand between her splayed thighs, he pressed two fingers to her clit, drawing fast, tight circles over the slippery flesh as he thrust into his mate’s tight channel. Her inner walls closed around him, molding to him like a glove, pulling him deeper, milking him. With his free hand, he cupped the swell of her breast, scraping his thumbnail over the peak of her hardened nipple. Isla cried out, her pussy grasping him so tightly he could barely move.
“You like that,” he observed, his voice deep, dark, and filled with gravel.
He did it again.
And again.
He pinched the bud between his thumb and forefinger, twisting gently at first, then harder when she cried out and began to buck against him. He pushed her higher, and she dragged him up the mountain with her until they both hovered at the precipice. Just before he tumbled over the edge, he thrust deep at the same moment he sank his fangs into the shallow valley where her neck met her shoulder.
Isla screamed in earnest then as she fell headlong into orgasm, her silky walls clenching around him until he had no choice but to follow her. With a roar that shook the walls, he locked his arms around her, buried himself to the hilt, and spilled himself into her heated depths.
Limp, exhausted, and utterly sated, Isla couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Thankfully, Slade seemed content to simply hold her, enjoying their companionable silence while he drew lazy figure eights over her stomach with his fingertips. It felt like she’d been waiting forever for this moment, to finally be with him without the barriers he’d constructed between them.
It had been well worth the wait.
Her neck tingled where he’d claimed her, a deep ache that filled her with immeasurable joy. They were one now, all four of them, and nothing could ever come between them.
Along with Cord, they were a family, and Isla would do anything to protect her family.
“We should get back to the party,” Slade whispered against the side of her neck.
“Really?” Leaning her head back, she beamed up at him. “We? Like both of us?”
He chuckled, the sound light, as if a terrible burden had been lifted from him. “You are mine. I go where you go.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that.” Wiggling out of his lap, she stood and held her hand out, waiting patiently for him to take it. “In that case, I say we go to the shower before we rejoin the party.”
Taking her hand, he st
ared at her with renewed heat in his obsidian eyes. “You’re playing with fire, tava.”
Yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing, but they had a lot of lost time to make up for, and she wasn’t about to let him get away that easily.
“Well, I mean, if you’d rather go to the party, I could always find someone else to—ah!”
Isla squealed and giggled when Slade launched to his feet and lifted her off the floor, tossing her over his shoulder. After adjusting his pants so as not to be indecent, he crouched to retrieve her dress, draping it over her back to cover her nudity. Then he marched out of the room, up the back staircase, and straight into their suite.
There, he set her down, turned her by the shoulders, and swatted her ass. “Shower. Now.”
“Bossy.”
“Isla,” he growled, a hint of warning in his tone.
“You want me?”
“You know I do.”
She backed away slowly, watching him watch her, adding a little sway to her hips to tease him. “Then come and get me.”
Turning on her toes, she sprinted for the nearest bedroom, laughing like a loon when Slade pursued, cursing her with every step. Life wouldn’t always be easy with three Krytos males. They’d disagree—a lot. They’d argue about stupid things. They’d fight and make up. It would definitely be an adventure.
Inside the bedroom, she dove onto the bed and stood in the center of the mattress, dancing just out of reach each time Slade tried to grab her.
“Damn it, female. Get over here.”
“Or what?”
With a growl that shook the windows, he launched himself at her, catching her around the waist and tackling her to the mattress. Pinning her beneath him, he skimmed his nose up the curve of her throat and sighed.
“Let that be a lesson, tava.”
“Lesson?” she asked breathlessly, his touch wreaking havoc on both her mind and body.
“If you run, I’ll chase you,” he vowed, “and I will always catch you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, with an infectious energy sweeping through the sanctuary. With half the planet looking for her, Isla couldn’t leave Haven again, but everything she needed was already within its walls. During the morning, she and Cord watched vids or played a number of games the kid invented off the top of his head. She loved spending time with him, but being a mother was also exhausting. So, when Bastian arrived at noon to take him downstairs for lunch, she admitted she was a little relieved.
It was the happiest she’d ever been in her life, but they still had one rather dark cloud hanging over their happily-ever-after.
Knox had been working hard on decrypting the commanders’ data units, as well as the hard drive he’d stolen from the Fixer. While he’d had success at extracting a few bits and pieces of information, it wasn’t yet enough to form a cohesive picture. Bastian had finally managed to get his hands on a copy of the Alliance report involving Isla’s alleged connection to her mother’s death, but it hadn’t told them anything more than they already knew.
By now, her stepfathers would be aware that she was back on the planet, which meant they were running out of time. Despite it being Christmas, Knox had woken up at the break of dawn to get back to work, sure he was close to a breakthrough. Isla just hoped it happened soon.
As if some watchful deity had heard her silent prayer, the front door of the suite opened, and Slade stuck his head inside, but he didn’t enter. “Knox found something. He wants us all downstairs.”
Isla bounced up from the sofa and jogged across the room, her bare feet swishing through the carpet. Her hair was a mess, falling from the bun at her crown, and she hadn’t even changed out of the sweats and T-shirt she’d worn to bed yet. Lately, she’d found she didn’t have the energy to worry about what she wore or using makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes, and she didn’t see that changing any time soon.
“Did he say what he found?”
Slade bent to greet her with a slow, lingering kiss. “We’re supposed to meet him in the break room,” he hedged. “Bas will join us after he finishes lunch with Cord.”
His evasiveness made her nervous, but she took a deep breath, laced her fingers with his, and followed him out of the room and down the hallway to the wide staircase. Her heart beat faster and harder with each step, and by the time they reached the common room, her stomach had twisted into tight, vicious knots.
“Come here, sweetheart,” Knox called when she and Slade entered the room. He patted the cushion beside him on the sofa.
A small vid screen had been propped up on the coffee table with wires connecting it to the data units below. At the moment, the screen was blank, showing just a gray background, but that didn’t stop her from staring at it as if she could will information to appear.
“What is it? What did you find? Is it about my mother? Did the commanders kill her?”
“Whoa, easy.” Slade sat on her other side and smoothed the loose strands of hair back from her face, tucking them behind her ear. “Knox is going to tell you what he found, then we’re going to show you something.” He cupped her jaw, drawing the pad of his thumb across her cheek in a tender caress. “I won’t lie, tava. This isn’t going to be easy, but we’re right here with you, okay? Remember that.”
Isla nodded. She could do it. Their presence gave her strength, and their love gave her courage. This is what they’d been hoping for, information that could exonerate her, but she still worried about what she might see in the security footage from her house.
“Okay.” She sat up straighter and pulled her shoulders back. “I’m ready.”
A second later, Bastian hurried into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. “Sorry I’m late. Cord had a meltdown about his chicken nuggets, and it took a while to calm him down before he’d agree to stay with Sadayka and Zora.”
Despite the importance of the news Knox had to share with her, Isla immediately went into mom mode. “What happened? Is he okay?”
Bastian waved away her concern. “He’s fine. I think he’s just tired. Sadayka is trying to get him to take a nap.”
“What was wrong with the chicken nuggets?” Knox asked.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bastian sighed. “Apparently, he figured out they were made from real chickens. I guess he saw some vid that had a chicken in it?”
“Henrietta,” Slade answered at once, shrugging when everyone turned to look at him. “What? We watched a vid with a chicken named Henrietta last night after the party. It was funny. The chicken wore a hat and earrings.”
Isla was well aware of the vid Slade was talking about since Cord had watched it at least half a dozen times that morning. Even when he wasn’t paying attention to it, he’d insisted that it be on in the background. If she’d had to listen to Henrietta sing about rainy days one more time, she might have lost her mind.
“Cord’s fine,” Slade assured her, taking her hand into his own and giving it a light squeeze. “Are you ready for this?”
Bastian rounded the sofa to stand behind her, and with her mates surrounding her with support, she could face anything. “I’m ready.”
“First,” Knox said, “I really didn’t find anything on Jorkin’s hard drive. I was hoping for a client list, financial records—anything really—but he’s good at covering his ass. I did find a transfer for twenty-five thousand credits two days before your mom’s death, but when I tried to trace where it was sent, it goes to some charity organization.”
“That’s the one.” Slade repeated what Jorkin had told them about the assassin, Wraith. “That goes with what we already know, but I don’t think it tells us anything new.”
“What about the commanders?” Isla asked. “Did you find anything on them?”
“There’s a corresponding transfer for the same number of credits Jorkin paid to this fake charity. It’s not enough to convict them, obviously, but it would be enough to open an investigation.”
/> “So, they’re just going to get away with it?”
“Not necessarily.” Knox squeezed her hand again. “I’m going to keep digging. If there is anything else connecting them to Jorkin, the assassin, or anything else, I’ll find it.”
“Thank you.” She’d hoped for more, but she knew how hard Knox had worked to find that much. Hopefully, the Alliance could probe deeper from there. “You said you wanted to show me something?”
“Remember,” Slade told her, “we’re right here.”
Knox swiped his finger across the vid screen, bringing up a security video of the empty foyer of Isla’s home. “You were right. The commanders tried to wipe the video, but nothing is ever truly deleted if you know how to look.”
Isla held her breath as she watched, but nothing happened for several, tense moments. Just as she was about to ask what she was supposed to be watching, her mother staggered into the foyer, her face pale, her eyes bulging. She was wearing her favorite blue dress that scrunched at the waist, and her golden hair had fallen from its elegant knot to cascade around her face.
She thought she’d been prepared, but Isla couldn’t stop that well of emotion at seeing her mother’s final minutes. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her throat tightened, making it difficult to breathe, and her stomach burned with a mixture of grief and anger.
Clutching her throat with one hand, Katelyn stumbled across the foyer, her other hand outstretched. She made it only two more steps before finally succumbing to the suffocating effects of the pepper flakes and crumpling to the tiled floor. Her hair fanned over her face, obscuring it from view, and she didn’t move again.
“She was trying to make it to the alarm,” Isla whispered thickly through her tears. “There’s a panic button that alerts the closest medical center in case of an emergency.”
Bastian bent over the back of the sofa and kissed the top of her head. “I’m so sorry, baby.”