She was going to be the death of him.
“I have something for you too,” she said cheerfully, spinning around to give him a view of her ass as she walked away and the two handprints on the soft underside.
Fucking Christ.
He trailed behind her, already considering how much he was starting to prefer this holiday when she held up a costume that made her look from it to him.
She smiled brightly. “Please?”
As if he’d ever been able to deny her anything.
He put it on, and considering he spent his life in combat gear mostly save the occasional pair of jeans, Răz didn’t know how to feel as he adjusted the costume Winter had picked for him.
But this was a small price to pay for her happiness.
And when he finished, and even donned the mouthpiece she handed over, it was worth it if only for the joy on her face.
“Now you’re my Bane.”
Winter.
If it was socially acceptable to jump his bones though they were in a room full of people as the food delivery was set up and the last of the decorations were put in place, Winter wouldn’t have hesitated.
He looked good enough to eat and she wasn’t the least bit ashamed to admit that she was already thinking of getting that Bane costume off of him later.
If there was one thing she’d been able to count on when it came to the boys, they were always willing to make each other happy. So when Răz had gone to them earlier about the costume party, they hadn’t hesitated before agreeing.
And now, she had her own team of comic book heroes right here for her to enjoy.
Life was sweet.
And between one hour and the next, the loft was packed nearly wall to wall with bodies, some she knew—familiar faces from the scavenger hunt that was ultimately responsible for her relationship with Răz—but most she didn’t.
To her surprise though, Răz, and the boys too, were taking it rather well.
And most importantly, she was certain she hadn’t seen them smile like this in a long time. They seemed to enjoy the ice frozen to look like a witch’s fingers, or the cake pops that looked like severed eyes, and the assortment of other grisly treats that were waiting for them.
Winter felt insanely proud of herself, if only because this was a memory they could finally look back on with fondness rather than pain.
And maybe, just maybe, Răz could dream about this rather than what constantly plagued him.
So far, this was the best Halloween of her life, and when Răz smiled at her from across the room, holding up the drink that looked like blood, she was sure he felt the same too.
Chapter 8
Răz
The party was in full swing a couple hours later, far too many bodies taking up space in the loft. If it hadn’t been made abundantly clear that no one was allowed upstairs for any reason, Răz might have worried their security was compromised—especially in a roomful of hackers—but if there was one thing he could trust, it was Winter’s abilities when it came to cyber security.
But he had to admit, despite his earlier worries, he was having a good time.
He had only started to pour himself another drink when he looked up and found Winter walking toward him, her gaze intent and ... mischievous.
Never a good combination when it came to her.
And just as she neared him, the lights changed colors as the song changed, bathing the room in red.
There was something different about her now though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was exactly. At first, she’d been playful and eager to show him how fun Halloween could be, now she seemed to have something else in mind.
While her gaze stayed locked on his, she plucked the drink from his hands and touched her black painted lips to the rim before tossing back the contents with relative ease.
She’d piqued his interest before, now she had his attention.
“I want to play a game.”
Răz arched a brow, nodding for her to elaborate.
“Hide and seek.”
He glanced around at the sheer number of people in the middle of the floor, trying to understand the logistics.
“Just me and you,” she explained, her smile widening. “No one would even notice we were gone.”
Which meant she had something very particular in mind. —What do you have in mind?—
“I’ll hide and it’s your job to come and find me.”
Already, he very much liked the sound of that. —What happens once I do?—
“Confident, are we?”
When she was the prize, he had reason to be.
“If you find me before the end of the next song ... well, I guess you’ll have to find out. Countdown from sixty.”
Winter rose up and kissed his lips before darting off, leaving him staring after her.
But it only took him a second to get his wits back before he was impatiently counting down, and the moment he hit zero, he started in the direction she’d disappeared.
Adrenaline coursed through him as he took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the places she usually visited in favor of rooms she tended to avoid.
He knew her—sometimes, he thought he knew her better than he knew himself—and as he was about to rest his hand on the knob of a closed door, he thought better of it and instead, headed in the opposite direction until he reached the gym.
The one place in the entire loft she hated.
And the moment he stepped inside, he knew he’d been right because there she was wearing a delicate lace set that took his breath away.
But more intriguing was the rope she had dangling from one hand.
Her face lit up the moment she saw him. “I guess we both win, don’t we?”
Fuck if he wasn’t excited to find out what he won.
Winter
The party could have gone on forever for all Winter cared, she was just drunk enough that the one and only thing she was focused on was Răz.
Considering his costume, he’d spent the majority of the night shirtless, giving everyone a wonderful view of the body he kept in top notch shape.
Hell, she got to look at it everyday, but that hadn’t stopped her from staring.
The good life if there ever was one.
Circling around him, she touched his wrists. “I want to try something.”
The alcohol hadn’t given her a little more liquid courage because while she had been thinking about this for quite some time now, she hadn’t ever brought it up … until now.
Halloween was all about the fantasy—of living in a world different from one’s own, if only for a night.
Tonight, she wanted to be wild and free and maybe even a little dangerous.
And when she looked up to meet his eyes, finding them heated and dilated, she thought maybe he wanted the same thing too.
He nodded without asking what she wanted from him.
She was his and he was hers.
His trust was implicit.
Excitement thrummed inside of her as she took his hand and led him from the gym into one of the guest bedrooms, the noise of the party muffled once she had the door shut and the lock turned.
But when she turned to face him once more, he had her pressed back against the door in seconds, his mouth swallowing her gaze as he kissed her like he was starving.
Like this, she could almost forget why she had brought him into this room because she loved when he took control like this. When he clenched her hair in his fist and tugged her head back until her throat was exposed and he could leave a hickey right there on the side of her neck, visible for anyone to see.
A reminder that he owned her—mind, body, and soul.
And just as Winter was about to say fuck everything and just rip those pants off of him, he pulled away, leaving her panting as he casually walked over and sat on the bed.
It was her turn now.
She attempted to ignore the look of male satisfaction as she tried to get his wits about her and remember
the plan. For this, she needed to focus.
To concentrate.
That was the thing about bondage, it went beyond merely securing his wrists to the bedposts and immobilizing him—she was essentially taking away his voice as well.
But Răzvan didn't hesitate in allowing her to tie the rope first around the post, then to his wrist. "Is that too tight?" she asked, chewing on her lip when he gave it a modest tug and shook his head. "Are you sure?"
For whatever reason, that seemed to amuse him as a smile lit up his face. She didn't understand why, not until he gave an actual flex of his arm and she could actually hear the wood protest under his strength.
Yeah, if he wanted to get out of those restraints, she had a feeling he could.
"Now you're just showing off."
But the thought was slightly thrilling because it made her wonder ... how far could she push him before he broke.
How far would she have to go to make him lose that careful control he had over himself? Oh, she knew she was capable of it—and if she had to guess, she was the only one who could spark a strong enough reaction in him—but he was still careful most of the time.
Sometimes, he treated her like precious spun glass—delicate and placed on a high shelf to ensure it wouldn't break—but she was made of stronger stuff and she wanted to show him that.
With that thought in mind, she moved to straddle his lap, mindful of the change that came over him almost instantly. She had learned the quickest, and best, way to get his attention was exactly like this. It allowed him an unobstructed view of her, and when she leaned forward to fasten the tie around his other wrist, she had a pretty good idea where his gaze had gone.
Carefully, she swept her fingers down the length of his arms, from his wrists, over the corded muscles and sinewy veins of his forearms and biceps, then down over his chest until she reached the button of his jeans.
“Now,” she said, looking up at him with a smile. “Shall we begin?”
FIN
A Sneak Peek At Saints & Thieves
Here’s a special firsthand look at the final book in The Wild Bunch Trilogy, releasing January 10, 2020 …
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Tonight was not a night for killing despite the dark skies and his overall shit mood.
At least, that was the reminder Nicu Dalca repeated to himself as he sat in the back booth of his favorite diner, long fingered hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee in front of him.
Some would say he’d always had a penchant for violence—that the ache of sore muscles and twinge of bruised knuckles was a comfort—and most days, he would agree.
But even he could admit it had gotten worse in the last six months. Before, he could argue he was merely responding to another’s aggression. Now, he was seeking out the conflict—glorified in it when he crossed paths with it.
It was like a calling in his blood.
“Ready?”
Nicu looked up as Vali slid back into his side of the booth. Though the question was directed at him, Vali’s gaze was on someone else entirely—not that that was out of character. He’d always been easily distracted and had a tendency to let his dick think for him.
But tonight, Nicu wasn’t interested.
He was too unsettled to possibly entertain any notion of climbing into bed with someone.
Which was why there was only one place he could possibly find any sort of salvation for his thoughts.
The one place he always turned to when he couldn’t go to Vali.
The cathedral was one of the largest in the cities, it’s pillars reaching the clouds in the dark night skies.
Nicu didn’t hesitate before entering, mindful of Vali lingering outside, using his desire for a smoke as an excuse not to enter.
It was an unspoken agreement between them that they accepted. Nicu could seek this place out and Vali would never stop him, but Nicu could never force him inside.
Not that he ever would, but even as he told Vali often that he could make his trips here unaccompanied, the other man still insisted on coming along, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.
And as stubborn as Vali was, there was no talking him out of it.
He needed something to quiet his frantic mind, which was why Nicu found himself here once again. Seeking solace for his chaotic mind.
For as long as he could remember, he had been a man of reason and discipline—had to be considering whose blood ran through his veins. He could never allow himself to go too far over the edge.
God only knew what he would be capable of then even as he tested himself every fucking day.
Reaching the front doors of the cathedral, Nicu slipped inside, not bothering to wait for Vali, knowing he would come in when, or if, he was ready.
He smoothed his hair back from his face as he walked down the center aisle, this Parrish as familiar to him as his own home considering how often he came here as of late.
The pews were empty save a man in one of the front rows a long ways down, head bent forward in prayer, his hands curled around the wooden bench in front of him.
It wasn’t until Nicu reached the altar at the very front that he finally paused, his eyes skirting over the rows of candles in front of him.
You must always pay your respects, his mother would tell him when they’d ventured into the nearby village to attend the Sunday service.
So for her, always, he lit a candle in her memory.
Because she deserved it.
Because if she had lived long enough to see what he had become, she would have lit one for his soul.
Before he could let that train of thought take him away, Nicu set his now lit candle back amongst the others, and moved to wait by the confession booths.
Confessionals weren’t usually held until the last Wednesday of every month, but one of the priests here always made an exception for him. Or rather, Nix, his handler, had asked a favor of the Father and the man had been willing to oblige him.
He sat, glancing down at his watch, following the seconds that ticked by until the midnight hour was upon him. It wasn’t often he lingered this long. During his usual visits, he merely set the duffel bag he carried on the floor in front of him for the priest to collect, whispered a soft prayer, then made his way out before anyone could be the wiser about his presence.
It was easier for him that way.
The last thing he needed was anyone questioning why and how he could just drop off a duffel bag full of cash without thinking twice about it.
But tonight, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.
His mind was a wreck.
And he feared, if he did nothing about it, he would inevitably do something he would regret. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened …
When he heard a door close in the distance, he left the bag at his feet and finally approached the booth, dragging in a breath as he closed the door behind him, inhaling the scent of lemon and chemicals.
He was always so hyper aware of everything when he entered this space, but it could be argued he was like this wherever he went.
On edge.
Waiting for any possible threat.
Old habits and all.
He sat with a heavy sigh, brushing his hands along the front of his jeans.
He took a breath, then another, and finally, he spoke, feeling the weight of every word.
“Forgive me, Father,” Nicu said calmly, his voice echoing around him. “It's been eight months, six days, and thirteen hours since my last confession.”
His hair was damp despite waiting to remove his helmet until he was on the steps out front, the ends dripping water onto the front of his jeans.
He rubbed his hands together, attempting to bring back even a trace of warmth after being out in the cold.
“So long?” Father asked, no judgment in his voice.
Nicu sighed, resting his head back against the wall. “I lost my way for a while.”
Though not in a way he would ever be able to expla
in to anyone. There was only one person who would understand and that person was the reason why he was here now.
“What’s brought you to see me?”
The truth, he thought to himself. An acknowledgment he had never admitted to out loud. But now ... he had to.
He needed to purge it.
The mercenary shifting to his feet didn’t see Nicu or his brothers as they entered the destroyed room. Not that Nicu paid him much mind considering he wasn’t part of the job they’d been called in to do.
It was the man standing across the room in a war vest and combat clothing that had his immediate attention.
He was most important.
His hair was a shade overgrown, dark and falling over his face, serving as as much of a mask as the one that covered the lower half of his face.
He was a weapon forged and created for one purpose.
The man was notorious even though Nicu had never crossed paths with him until this very moment. Some considering a ghost—appearing only when it was time to make a person disappear before he too was gone.
He had killed dozens, if not hundreds, of people over the years he’d been active.
Most didn’t live when they crossed paths with him.
Here was a man o many feared and yet … Nicu only felt a passing interest if only because he presented a challenge he had never faced before.
Nicu could understand how so many others feared him—he looked like a threat—but he didn’t.
Fear wasn’t an emotion he often felt these days.
“So you’re the one the Den’s been looking for?” Fang asked, using the new software Winter had made for them to disguise their voices.
It wasn’t often they spoke during a job, preferring the anonymity silence brought them which ensured no part of them could be distinguished from each other beyond their heights and the patterns of their masks, but this time, Fang hadn’t cared.
He was taunting the man, even as the Jackal—as the merc in front of him was called—didn’t respond.
“This won’t end well for you,” Fang added a moment later.
Tricks & Treats: A Wild Bunch Halloween Novella Page 5