Chapter 24
I eventually drifted off, but the night didn't end there. I can't tell how long I actually slept, but I woke up from a nightmare—Set's nightmare. His breath is ragged, and his body spasms like he's at war with the sheets that cover him.
Without time to react or get away from him, his hand grips my arm so tightly that my flesh instantly begins to bruise.
I'm starting to fear what he'll do if I don't manage to wake him up. But how the hell am I supposed to do that? I try shaking him back to his senses, but it doesn't seem to have any kind of effect. His jaw is tightly clenched, his teeth grinding like they're about to break.
I call out his name a couple of times, hoping to reach him. “Set,” his name leaves my lips and it seems to be working—at least that’s what I think before his eyes open, and all I can see is ink black. His breath is becoming more of a roar, and I realize he's not really here with me.
I don't know what part of him crawled to the surface, but I definitely need to send it back to where it came from. However, nothing I do seems to be working. I call his name again and again, my hands cupping his face, my own body shivering with fear. I can't even bring myself to process what's happening, but I push myself to use the last resort I can think of—my lips crash onto his and I kiss him like I've waited a lifetime to do so.
At first, he tries to pull back as if my lips are coated with poison, but my hands wrap around his neck holding him here, unwilling to let go. My grasp on him only slackens when I can feel him giving in and biting my lower lip. It's not to hurt me. It's to consume me, like he's taking something from inside of me and clinging to it as if it’s his life-support. My breath is the only thing that seems to steady his own while his lips murmur my name over and over again, “Serena.”
“Serena,” I hear myself whisper, realizing I’m kissing her with an unstoppable need. I’d recognize the taste of her lips even if I’d been dead for a thousand years, and I'm starting to think it's the only thing that has brought me back to life. Though I'm not feeling very alive right now, I'm torn by fragments of memories that don't fit into the grand puzzle. But before I drift back into that state again, I force myself to pull away from her, putting as much distance between us as possible. She has an effect on me that I can't explain, nor control. Our earlier experience in the kitchen awakened a part of me I prefer to keep bottled up. And when I say our kitchen experience , I'm not referring to me tasting her. Sure, I've longed to have her tremble on the tip of my tongue for what seemed to be ages, but that's not what brought me to the verge of losing myself. It was the blood, the connection, the true union of us —something much deeper than any word could express.
She is mine. Mine to protect. Mine is too profane. And nothing will change that from now on.
It's almost impossible to abandon the sweetness of her lips. This is the first time she's giving me a kiss without me taking it from her, and as much as I like being in control, this is something entirely different. She's taking her first step toward me, even if she's probably doing it just to calm me down. At least, that’s what she’s lying to herself that she's doing, but I can feel the way her tongue moves against mine. It's much more than a task she needs to fulfill. It's her first willing step toward me, even if she doesn't realize it.
Sure, I love the way she trembles when I take something from her that's not rightfully mine yet . But this is so addictive that a warm rush flows through my veins, lighting me up so hard to the point where I'm on the verge of losing control again. This—this is better than fucking. Not better than fucking her, of course—I’m not delusional. But it was better than anything else I had ever felt before. Which is exactly why I have to go. I'm already on the edge, and I don't think I could resurface if I have another fallout tonight.
Next thing I know, I find myself out on the balcony, gripping the railing until my fingers are seconds away from snapping. The memories of the life I seem to have forgotten are bubbling in my mind like fucking popcorn in a microwave. Father took away our memories when he decided to punish us. But sometimes, fragments come back to haunt me, pieces of the life I lost. Whether good or bad, it feels like there's a piece of me missing. Flashes of the wars I won, the women I bedded, and horrors I caused are coming back to me like a never-ending fucking roller coaster. Even if I know I'm a different person now, Set the Destroyer still lies somewhere within me. It's in my genes to lack any kind of humanity, but strange enough, returning to humanity seems to be my curse. And I never thought it could feel so fucking amazing.
Though I do feel a bond with my brothers, I never knew love. Sure, I would kill for any of them, and I would also give my life without a second thought to save theirs, but that doesn't even begin to compare with the thought of anyone hurting Serena—including myself. I admit, I love to cause her pain—but it's a different kind of pain. The kind that flows through your body and works as the strongest aphrodisiac. I can tell she gets off on that, even if she doesn't want to admit it. I’ll be next to her for that ride until she learns that the kind of pain I enforce on her only leads to ecstasy. Just not tonight. As much as I would like to, I can’t go back to sleep next to her. I’m becoming unstable, losing the same balance I struggle to keep. It's like my body needs to acclimatize to hers. I feel like a junky that just pumped up his daily fix; taking more than his body could handle at once and nearly ending up in a coma.
I can only congratulate myself for not fucking her from day one. Who knows what that could have done to me, and more important what I could have done to her?
I only return to bed in the morning when I consider I am stable enough to handle being close to her. I could have stayed on the balcony, but it is difficult to deny myself of her presence for much longer. She's awake. I can tell from the way her body tensed when I slipped between the sheets next to her. I don't even know if she got any sleep, but as soon as my arm drapes over her stomach, I felt goosebumps blooming under my fingers. “Fuck,” I groan, feeling her so vulnerable right next to me.
Instantly, her eyes snap open as if something horrible is about to happen. “Set?” She stares, her voice unsure, like she’s afraid it’s not really me holding her. And I can't blame her for it.
“Yes,” I breathe the word, trailing my thumb over her lips that kissed me earlier. She's scared, and that makes her that much more beautiful.
“Is... is everything okay?” she stammers, unsure if I'm back to myself again.
I can’t tell if she's worried for me or for herself, but the tone of her voice makes me want to calm her down.I never explain myself to people, yet I seem to be doing it with her. “It was only a nightmare. I get those from time to time,” I pause, absorbing the scared look in her blue eyes. “Living the life I do helps,” I continue, my thumb still tracing her lips.
I expect her to stay quiet, indifferent to what this means for me. But she surprises me and her lips move to murmur against my finger. “What are they about?”
I wasn't prepared for her to ask or give an actual fuck, especially since I’m perfectly aware I’m the big bad wolf in her story. I chalk it up to some uncontrolled curiosity she has regarding me. But now’s not the right time for that conversation. I don't need her sympathy, and I sure as hell don't want her looking at me like I'm a hero just because I keep the world around her from crumbling. If it was up to the old me, I would’ve torn it to pieces by now.
I'm not ready to tell her the whole truth, but I am willing to let her into some parts of my life. Withdrawing my hand away from her lips, I prop my head against the pillows to lie on my back, staring at the ceiling. “About my past,” I answer, my arm sliding beneath her. I don't ask if she wants to or not. I just pull her body onto mine until her head rests against my chest so I can play in her hair. “About destruction,” I go on, “But mostly about things I'm trying to remember and I can't.”
“Do you have amnesia or something like that?” she asks, confusion lacing her voice.
“Something like that,” I answer, closing my eyes and letting my mind fill with the image of my armies marching to war.
“Is it... is it severe? I mean, is Set even your real name? Because I find it strange that everyone else calls you Seth, but you asked me to drop the h.” Serena finally asks the question I knew was inevitable.
“I can remember my own name, Ya’amar. It's just a part of my past that was taken away from me. Set is the name I was first given. Seth is just easier to handle for the rest of the world.” I see her brows knit, trying to figure out the meaning behind my words. Still, I give no further explanation to her. Instead, I shift the topic, steering her away from my past. “We're going to the museum tomorrow. I need to prepare things for the heist. I want that artifact in my possession as soon as possible.”
“What are you even doing with them?” I know I stirred her curiosity, and allowing her to ask a few questions had only piqued it further. But that's a subject I don't want to talk about yet.
“Enough with the questions. Ya'amar, you're keeping me awake when I'm trying to sleep, and I might get the urge not to sleep at all and attend to other things. Like the unspoken needs of your body. I can feel your pussy throbbing beneath those sheets, and your hushed breath is letting me know how difficult it is for you to be so close to me. And it's not because of fear—as much as you want to believe that’s the reason. It's because you want me to touch you. So, unless you want that to happen right now, I suggest you close your eyes and sleep for a few more hours.”
Just like I expected, the room falls under total silence, and I can barely keep myself from bursting into laughter. Still, I stay silent as well. I'm not sure I can resist the pull to claim her. But I fight with my body to give myself a few more days before I do that. I keep telling myself that the more I wait, the sweeter it will be, but deep down, I know there’s more to it. I'm not just doing this only for her. I don't deal well with weakness, and when it's my own, it feels like a burden too heavy to bear. I'm giving her time because I need time as well. I don't want to be over the edge when I have her, because I plan to take her over every possible edge when it happens.
Despite all my attempts, I can’t sleep. Not the same thing I could say about Serena, whose breath falls heavy on my chest, warming my flesh and also raising my blood to extreme temperatures. She's been sleeping for a couple of hours now, and I can’t bring myself to get out of bed. The second I try to move, I hear her moan in her sleep as she turns to the other side to hug her pillow. Fuck, that sound made me harder than a concrete wall. All the more reason to get out of here before I do something stupid that I would end up regretting.
By the time she wakes up, I’ve already made coffee, laid out some clothes for her to wear today, made a small trip to the basement level, and got her a little something extra. I know pampering her is pretty much fucked up right now because she just tried to kill me the other night, but that shit actually turned me on.
But I have to hurry to get everything I planned for today done. It seems we have a busy afternoon ahead. A few of my packages were delivered early this morning, and even though I gave them a little inspection myself, I can't wait for us to open the bastards up.
I get back into the bedroom just as she’s waking up. Stretching, her hands lazily fall down to her breasts before settling onto the bed next to her. She looks so fucking perfect that my teeth grind, the wish to go to her and keep her in bed for the rest of the day is clawing at me.
I don't think she realizes where she is, because the moment her eyes fully open, she starts fussing on the bed, trying to arrange herself, startled that her shirt had risen right below her breasts, leaving her flat abdomen exposed.
“You seem to be enjoying being in my bed,” I state the obvious as I lay the clothes that I had brought her on the bed. “Get dressed, Ya’amar. We’ve got places to be.”
I don't expect her to put up a fight, and she doesn't. I could stay in there and dress her myself, but then I would endanger our plans for the day, and I just got a call that we have a two-day window before they’ll move a part of the art collection. After that, we're really fucked.
I return to the living room and wait for Serena there. I'm acting almost civilized by giving her space—nothing like I’d usually do. But then again, I haven't been myself lately.
She comes out of the bedroom, almost tiptoeing like she could magically walk past me and disappear into the kitchen unnoticed. I can't help but smile to myself at how innocent she really is at times.And since I’ve caught on to her, she stops a few feet away from me, while I notice her holding the little something I got for her this morning in her right hand.
She seems confused about it. “What's this?” she sheepishly asks, showing me the black jewelry box. I honestly didn't expect her to ask. I figured out she would just put it on like she did with the other pieces of jewelry I had delivered to her wardrobe before. Okay, I have to admit I may have gone a little over the top with this one, and I suspect she noticed the luxury brand of the box.
I’m not sure what she expects me to say; it's not like I‘ve bought this kind of shit for anyone else. Fuck, from what I can remember, I never bought someone a gift before. Sure, I gifted my brothers an occasional head or two of their enemies, but I am not convinced that counts.
Taking a step next to her, I pick the box from her hands, and open it. “You should have nice things to wear,” I say, taking out the diamond necklace I just paid a fortune for. The piece of jewelry comes with a moon pendant encrusted with hundreds of small fine-cut diamonds—none of them as valuable as her.
Stepping behind her, I clasp the necklace around her fragile neck, saying nothing. Words seem pointless when my gestures speak so loud they could deafen her.
I hand her the box so she can take out the matching earrings—a pair of stars. It would take eternity for me to put those on her fragile ears, so I leave the task to her. As soon as she is done, I make my way to the elevator, from where we descend straight to the parking lot.
I can’t help myself from staring at the way the diamond necklace emphasizes the blue in her eyes. The truth is, I can't wait to see her wearing nothing but that. Still, I'm a man who doesn't usually get distracted that easily, especially since so many things depend on me getting that artifact. But as I watch her arrange herself in the car, I notice that pink sundress I picked out for her clinging a little too tightly to her body, making the shape of her breasts so fan-fucking-tastic that I can barely focus on the road. I can tell she's nervous, and I'm not sure if it's because of the gift, because she's in the car with me, or because we're getting ready for the heist. But you could cut the sexual tension between us with a knife. Her petite frame is shifting in her seat like she’s sitting on needles. Her body tensed, her lips almost twitching from trying to steady her breath, yet her eyes betray her. I feel them landing on my hand, moving from her bandaged palm to my already healed one. I know there's a question there that hasn’t been asked yet. I'm going to answer it someday. I just don't want what I have to say to her to influence things between us. I want her to see the real me—perfect but also flawed, demon and angel. I’m not only her destroyer, but also her savior. And I don't want anything to tip that balance, one way or another, before she makes up her own mind about me.
We arrive at the art gallery. The place had been closed to the public for a long time, but they still used the storage room and safes to deposit pieces of art. They sometimes even bring in pieces of art from other Vegas museums to keep in storage. Most people don't know this information, but I have well-informed sources.
We don't need a disguise or a cover to go into the museum. I have the perfect plan to go in as exactly who I am to the outside world—Seth Malvagio, businessman.
A guy from the team we're going to work with gave me a pair of sunglasses with an invisible micro camera planted on their frame. They've scoped the place before, pretending to be from the electric company and checking on some wires, but an updated image couldn't hurt anyone. Plus, there’s an ulterior reason for my visit here. I want to make sure that the place is relatively easy to break into, and that I'm not putting Serena in too much danger.
I park my car next to the back entrance since the front one has a chain and lock on it. The museum hasn't been open to visitors for years, but it's not really abandoned. They still have a maintenance crew working around the place and a few security guards who are just coming our way.
Acting unfazed by them, I get out of my car, gesturing for Serena to join me while I start looking around the building, to find an access door to get into the place.
“Sir, the museum isn't open for visitors,” one of the guards, who I’d just ignored, tries to warn me.
“Who said anything about being a visitor? I am an investor. Seth Malvagio, take the name up with the museum board.” One of my assistants sent a message to the board of directors a few days ago about my interest in buying the place, and turning it into a hotel. They seemed really excited about the idea, which means I have a clear path to go pretty much anywhere I want since I’m assessing a possible real estate investment. It's not uncommon for things like this to happen in Vegas, and since I ended up here, I'm even considering the opportunity. The place is large enough for a royal hotel, and I can see myself making good money out of a deal like this. I'll just have to put it on my to-do list, and request more market studies about the opportunity.
I step into the gallery as if I already own the place, trying to cover as much ground as I can, and get as close to the deposit and safe room as possible. I know where they are since I have the blueprints, but I need to observe every security measure they have around the place. The guard follows me around with the phone stuck to his ear until he gets confirmation that I'm in the right place. I know he got the green light the second his tense expression relaxes. So, I get bolder and head straight for the safe rooms, pretending to admire the architecture and check the structure of the building. However, I stumble on a locked door to which only the guard has keys. I know about this door, and I’m not expecting him to let me go any further—board approval or not. That's okay; the electrical guys got past it, and have everything on camera. I don't think they’ve installed a new alarm system in the week since my crew was here, especially since this is going to be shut down soon.
Serena follows me closely, and I can see her studying every angle of the building. I like watching her at work; she gives me Catwoman vibes, and I'm in the mood to play Batman.
I drag things out, pretending to look around, so she can check everything out—at least everything she can from where we have access—and when she signals me that she's done, we head back to the car. She and the team are going to go through the room we were just in to get to the safe, so her knowing all about the alarm systems is a bonus.
“Our team is waiting at my hotel,” I tell her as soon as we are back in the car. I'm not going to give her the option to pick a team this time around. The men selected by me are more than qualified for the job, and ready to deal with whatever issue might appear. I only gave Nick and her the opportunity to choose their own crew because I knew Nick would screw things up and make everything so much easier for me.
“Our team?” She asks as if I wouldn't fit into that equation.
“Yes, Serena, ours . I want to make sure that everything goes smoothly this time. I won't be going in with you, but I will be watching from the outside, making sure there won't be any deviation to the plan again,” I warn her, even though I know it wasn't her intention to double-cross me. “And after the meeting, I have two gifts for you.”
Two gifts? I don't even want to know what he's talking about because I have a bad feeling about this one. I fear the next gifts will be nothing similar to the one I received this morning when I opened the box and found the most amazing set of jewelry. Funny enough, Set seemed a little clumsy, maybe even flustered when I mentioned it. “You should have nice things to wear.” Who says that anyway? And since when do nice things mean a small fortune?
However, I feel these next gifts will be different judging by the smirk forming on his lips. This is going to be a very rough day.