Assassin's Mark

by Ella Sheridan

  I couldn’t let him finish that sentence; I just couldn’t. “I’m not your mark; my father is. Go sleep with him if you want risky.”

  Levi brought his lips close, rubbed them gently over mine until the skin tingled and I couldn’t fight the instinct to open to him. A sharp nip of his teeth stung my lower lip. “Sorry, you’re the one in my bed, the one tempting me every time I look at you. If you don’t want me, you should stop drawing attention to yourself.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You did.” Leaning on one elbow, he drew his calloused fingers along the tender skin of my inner arms, bared by the position he’d cuffed me in. I hadn’t realized my tank top had risen until he skipped down to the bare skin of my stomach, teasing higher and higher until he brushed the underside of one breast. “You breathe and I notice, Abby. Your scent, your accusing eyes…” His storm-gray gaze locked with mine. “Stop all those things, and maybe I can ignore you.”

  I squirmed beneath him, trying to get him off me—or get him closer; I wasn’t sure. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

  “I’ve got a little secret for you,” he whispered against my ear. “It doesn’t really matter what you want.”

  Wet heat enveloped my earlobe. I choked on a gasp. The position Levi had me in meant I couldn’t escape, couldn’t evade his mouth, his fingers, the rub of his erection against my clit every time I moved—and he used all three against me. Just a few short minutes and I was whining beneath him for a far different reason than I had earlier. The fire in my veins threatened to burn me to cinders, no matter its source. I could deny it—deny him—all I wanted, but it wouldn’t make the truth disappear. Levi could play me like a violin, and with far superior technique than any musician ever conceived of.

  And yet, when he had me on the very brink, when one more stroke against my mouth, my nipple, my clit would send me plunging over the edge—he pulled away.

  I lay there, fighting the instinct to writhe on the bed, and glared at him through slitted eyelids.

  “Easy.” He gave me a somewhat pained smile. That should’ve made me happy, I knew, but the ache of need inside me left little room for anything else. “Maybe, if you play nice, tomorrow night will end up differently.”

  I sputtered at that. Levi ignored me, turning to leave instead. He didn’t stop until I finally managed to spit out a coherent, “Keep wishing, asshole!”

  “I will.” With a wink he exited the room, leaving me cuffed and aroused, with no hope of either changing anytime soon.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was amazing what frustrated lust could accomplish. The longer I lay awake, tied to the bed, the harder I fanned the flames of my anger, until the need to retaliate felt like it would burst from beneath my skin.

  And still I lay there.

  Levi came in hours later and walked straight to the bathroom. I heard the water come on, and immediately images of him naked, water skimming that beautiful body, filled my mind. Was he just as aroused as I was? He’d been hard when he left me here. If that bastard was taking care of himself in the shower while I was stuck, helpless, cuffed and angry, I would—

  Well, I would nothing, apparently. What could I do but lie here and fume? Damn the man.

  He didn’t speak when he came to bed. Moonlight kissed the naked skin of his torso, skirting the edges of his tattoos and the black outline of his boxers. Ignoring my glare, he leaned over, and I felt the tug on the cuffs as he tested them, the skim of his fingers along the insides as he checked my wrists. His chest was right there above me, the sight and scent drowning my senses, and I had to fight the impulses warring inside—to kiss that delectable expanse of skin or bite hard, sharing my anger and frustration with the man who’d sparked them both.

  I counted it a victory that I did neither.

  Long minutes later I was rewarded by the sound of Levi’s breathing going heavy and deep. Time passed at a snail’s pace. My arms began to ache as the night wore on, and sleep slipped farther and farther away. Rolling from one side to the other did little to settle me, nor did my wandering thoughts or the unfamiliar heat in the bed beside me. Eyes closed, eyes open—it didn’t matter, so I took advantage of the lack of surveillance and used the time to memorize Levi’s features in the faint light descending from the windows.

  Most people’s faces softened when they slept. Some looked silly, all slack-jawed and smushed into the pillow. Not Levi. If anything his face took on a sharper edge, as if he was working hard to hurry through the night. The full lips, so soft against mine, were thin and tight, a deep vee creasing the skin between his eyebrows. My fingers itched to trace those lines, to soothe the determination into relaxation. My body curved toward him without my consent, seeking out his warmth, his strength, the solid presence I needed to anchor me in the endless night.

  If only he could anchor me when I was awake as well.

  Levi shifted, the faintest rumble coming from his throat. A dream?

  “No!”

  The sharp bark startled the lassitude from my body. Definitely a dream, and about nothing pleasant if his growing agitation was any indication. But then, he was an assassin. He’d done plenty to cause nightmares, hadn’t he?

  The tossing and turning grew worse, and more than once Levi called out in his sleep—nothing I could understand, but the tone… I shivered, the movement clanking my cuffs against the headboard.

  Levi’s head jerked around. His eyes were open, staring, their expression chillingly blank. I shrank back toward the edge of the bed.

  “Levi, wake up. It’s okay; it’s just me. Wake up.”

  A feral growl left his lips.

  “Levi?” His name wavered as I tipped back, praying I wouldn’t fall. “You need to wake up now, okay?”

  His eyes narrowed. I blinked, and that quick his hands were around my throat. Long fingers squeezed down, cutting off my air, sending me into a spiral of panic. No matter which way I turned, how I bucked, how hard I tried, I couldn’t get air, couldn’t speak, could do nothing but stare into those blank eyes and pray Levi woke up before he killed me. My cuffed hands burned from the scrape of the metal on delicate skin, the screaming pain in my lungs echoing in the joints as I instinctively fought to free myself, to escape—but I didn’t have my hands. The only free part of my body was my legs, lying like dead weights on the damn mattress.

  Instinct flared awake. I lifted, trying to get my knee between us, trying to shove Levi off. His body stiffened, his head turning toward the attack.

  My shin hit him square in the face.

  With a bellow he fell back. I sucked in air, frantic to fill my vacuum-sealed lungs, to cry and scream and fight, all the things I’d been denied with his hands strangling me. When Levi reared over me, blood dripping from his swollen nose, instinct threw me backward, away from the threat. Away from the fury raging in his eyes.

  Air met my back as I fell off the bed. Most of me, anyway. The cuffs trapped my wrists still, sending sudden agony shooting up my arms and finally drawing out the scream I’d held inside too long.

  “Fuck! Abby—”

  Levi disappeared from view. Moments later a snick signaled the release of my handcuffs. Relief howled through my muscles, stealing all my attention as I huddled against the wall, face mashed into the side of the mattress to muffle my crying.

  I don’t know how long I hid there, making myself as small as possible. Long enough that the fear and pain trickled out with the tears. Long enough that Levi’s absence finally registered. And yet I couldn’t keep from tensing when the whisper of his footsteps approached.

  He didn’t touch me, not at first. Instead his breath coasted over my face as he leaned close, his forehead almost against mine, turning the hot trails of my tears to cool paths of relief. Fingertips, rough and yet oh so gentle, followed. His touch, a weapon mere moments ago, now brought the shattered pieces of me back together. I ignored the warning that thought triggered at the back of my mind and shifted closer to the strength surrounding me.


  Hard hands pushed behind my back, beneath my legs. A cry escaped when he lifted me, but I had no more than a moment to absorb the heat of his body before he settled me on the bed.

  “Wha—”

  But Levi was gone before I could get the question out. Probably best. I doubted I could do anything but croak, my throat thick and swollen and still gridlocked with fear.

  He returned moments later with a wet washcloth. Ignoring my flinch, he wiped the blood from one wrist, then the other, threw the rag over his shoulder without looking to see where it landed, and turned his attention to my neck. I couldn’t hold back a whimper of pain when he tipped my chin up.

  “You need some ice for that.”

  “No, I—”

  Levi was already gone. I snarled my frustration, though it came out more like a squeak. “Would you stop walking out on me every time I speak?” I croaked when he got back.

  His answer was a dark look. Not promising. The ice pack he settled gently against my throat felt good, at least.

  “I take it you’ve never strangled a woman before.”

  The dim room couldn’t hide the way he paled. “I’m a killer, Abby, not a monster.”

  Guilt sharpened my voice. “What’s the difference?”

  Levi’s fist tightened, but he didn’t drop his stare.

  I did. “I’m sorry.”

  My breath caught as the mattress dipped, rolling me toward the middle, toward Levi’s big body bathed in the faint moonlight. He stretched his length out against me, tangled his long legs with mine. Hard hands forced my chest to his, wrapped around my back without apology, leaving zero space between us.

  I raised the hand not holding the ice pack and let my fingers drift along the midnight shadow roughening his cheeks. Sandpaper scraping me, giving way to the tough skin of his neck, the thin stretch along his collarbone. Every part of the spectrum—that was Levi. Not that he’d admit it.

  “You didn’t consciously hurt me, Levi.” I knew that, even if my anger had used the lie like a lash.

  His dark head shook once, denying my words despite their truth. My heart squeezed.

  When the massage began, all I could get out was a moan. Muscles rigid from hours spent over my head cried in relief. Was Levi mentally cursing himself? With my face mashed into his chest, I couldn’t tell. And if he was, what was I supposed to say? It’s okay, Levi. I know you tried to kill me, but you didn’t really mean it. He’d been the one to cuff me to the bed, render me helpless. Now he was the one taking care of me. The whiplash of emotions only added to the headache pushing to the forefront of my brain.

  I pressed harder against him, willing the pain away. As if reading my mind, Levi moved his kneading fingers up the relaxed muscles of my neck and across the back of my aching head. Long moments passed, the only sound the soft rustle of my hair through his hands and the rough thud of his heart beneath my lips. Thud, thud, thud.

  Tha-thud, tha-thud, tha-thud.

  His palm slid along the curve of my cheek. My heart picked up speed too.

  “Levi, I—”

  A rough tug on my jaw and then his mouth met mine, cutting me off before I could figure out what to say. It didn’t matter. Everything inside me stilled at the pressure of his soft lips. His warm, insistent tongue. The unique scent of clean masculine sweat surrounding me. Bit by bit the lingering fear inside me dissipated. My eyes fluttered closed. I’d been dropped into a vat of safety, of peace, and I never wanted to leave.

  Levi drowned me, and I let him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Levi rolled me onto my back. He followed me over, his weight blanketing my body just as it had last night. Deep in my bones, I recognized the visceral pleasure of it—his heaviness constricting my ribs, my lungs, the hard press of his pelvis against mine. It was as if my entire being surged up, reaching for him, longing for his body to overpower my own. When he licked into my mouth, I caught his tongue, sucking lightly, desperate to keep some small part of him inside me.

  Levi jolted as if he’d touched a live wire. A growl burst from his throat as he curled around me, crawling deeper. The pleasure in that sound did something to me, something I didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore—it melted me. So wrong. This was the man who’d kidnapped me, who’d humiliated me, who’d just had his hands around my throat, squeezing the life out of me while remembering someone he’d probably finished the job with in the past, and all I could think about was the ache between my legs and how I wanted him to fill it. It was sick. Twisted. Inexcusable.

  Undeniable.

  I jerked away from him.

  “No, you don’t—”

  Steely arms and legs caged me in, preventing my escape. The bastard was solid rock, immovable, pinning me tighter than a butterfly on a board, but that’s all he did. Just held me beneath him, panting raggedly in my ear, his hand fisted in the neck of my sleep shirt, denying me escape. Like that was anything new. And yet, as he crouched over me, his heavy thighs more effective than any bars or handcuffs, something inside me stilled. As if this was where I was meant to be. What I’d needed all along.

  Definitely sick.

  Levi bent onto his elbows, planted now on either side of my head, and stared into my eyes. Looking for what? I didn’t want to know and certainly hoped he didn’t find it. I focused on his chin, that powerful jawline covered in prickly soft stubble. I knew how that stubble felt on my neck, my breasts. My inner thighs. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. When Levi bent to run that stubble-roughened chin along the sensitive skin at the top of my breasts, it felt inevitable—and sizzlingly sexy.

  I wanted more. And I wanted to run. The story of my life.

  Warm lips trailed along the barest hint of cleavage revealed by my tank, my shoulder, the aching skin of my neck. Levi nudged my chin up with his nose, nuzzled into the space I made for him there, his warm breath and tender lips soothing my pain and ripping away any armor I hoped to have against him. At some point that wonderful weight was on me again, grounding me, covering me like a blanket. I was safe. Secure. And it was all an illusion, whether or not I wanted to admit it. Lust didn’t change who he was, didn’t erase what he’d done to me, either yesterday or mere minutes past. How could I forget that even for a second?

  Because of this, something whispered as his mouth slid across my cheek, his breath caressing my skin, his scent filling up the air I breathed. When firm fingers forced my head to turn, to meet his smoke-gray eyes, the inevitability hit me like a blow.

  My swallow hurt.

  Voice dropped to a mere rough whisper, he asked, “Do you want me, Abby?”

  My nipples tightened against his solid chest, begging where my mouth would not, where it was safe to beg—where he wouldn’t see. But he could feel; I knew because his back arched, rubbing his firm muscles against my hard tips. A moan escaped against my will.

  He didn’t gloat; he kissed me. The surge of his tongue between my lips became the perfect echo for the roll of his body, the thrust of his arousal against my belly. Want couldn’t describe what I felt then—it paled in comparison to the fire Levi ignited inside me, the hunger that roared out of control, begging to be sated. Only one man had ever been able to do this to me, snatch me away from right and wrong, expectations and propriety. Only Levi stripped away the proper veneer to reveal the woman inside. I hadn’t known she existed until now. And maybe she shouldn’t, but God help me, I couldn’t escape her any more than I could escape him.

  “Tell me, Abby, right now. Do you want me?” The sweet stroke of his fingers along my throat, across my lips, coaxed me to answer.

  “Yes.” The word was ragged, barely audible, but there nonetheless.

  “Then let me have you. Be the brave little bird you’ve been all along.”

  I snorted. “You’ve got me confused with some other girl, Levi.” I’d never been brave. Reckless, maybe, but look where that had gotten me—in bed with a killer.

  A killer whose irises darkened at my words. He took me in for long m
oments, displeasure narrowing his eyes. I held my breath until a faint smile curved one corner of his mouth, the tiny tilt completely transforming his expression. “I’m definitely not confused.”

  He abandoned words for action then. Caressed my bare skin with ruthless hands and lips. Nipped the shuddering flesh. Laved it with the lingering trace of his tongue. I watched, unable to look away, as he dipped his head, his teeth catching a fold of flesh between shoulder and breast, and sucked lightly. And I knew. God help me, but I knew right then I’d give in. He was killing me not with a knife or gun, but with kindness. I couldn’t resist it, didn’t want to. My soul soaked it up like poisoned nectar, sweet and deadly, and all I wanted was more.

  My rigid muscles relaxed. Levi eased a hand under the hem of my shirt and pushed up, even as his body moved lower. Tiny bites teased the underside of my breast, then trailed toward the other. “You were built to pleasure.” His lips brushed shivering skin on his relentless journey up to one hard nub. “Let me give you pleasure.” Harsh breath hit my nipple.

  With a whimper, I arched my back.

  “That’s it, Abby; that’s so it.” A hot lick. A soft bite. “Relax for me. Let me have you. Please.”

  The last word was no more than a breath, but it shot through me like an arrow. I wasn’t the only one needing here; Levi did too. I wasn’t alone, not in this.

  When his warm mouth surrounded my nipple, I stopped caring about right and wrong, need and domination. The rhythmic suction took over my world, but I wanted more than my own pleasure. I wanted his. My palm trailed shyly along the thick ridge of muscle protecting his rib cage, the curve of his hip, that small hollow between belly and groin. Levi lifted his lower body as if I’d requested entry, and I eased farther down, brought my fingers to the curls at his pelvis, arrowing down to the base of that thick stalk. A grunt escaped him as I gripped, tugged, explored.

  He switched breasts, but when my thumb slid along the narrow slit at the end of his cock, he released me to choke back a curse. I didn’t catch the whole thing; I was too busy holding my breath as he slid down, down, out of my reach, his shoulders making a place for him between my thighs. And then his mouth was on my clit and I couldn’t concentrate on anything but panting and clutching the sheets, praying I didn’t pass out—I didn’t want to miss a single second of this. Without permission my hips tilted, pulsing in time to the rhythm of his licks, urging him on, begging for him to come closer, deeper.