7. Dani
7
DANI
HOME SWEET HOME
I kissed Xeno, but I shouldn’t have.
He’s in my space, but he shouldn’t be. What is he doing? For that matter, what is he doing to me? His kiss tasted of Kentucky Bourbon, smooth and flavorful. It had been so long, the feel of a man’s lips on mine, dominating in its invasion, gentle in its probing. I lost myself in how good it felt. My pussy is still spasming for his thick cock.
Stupid, I know.
Omar, and probably the entire Hernandez-Dominquez family know I’m alive. I need a plan. One that does not include a six-foot-three, over-the-top Greek god.
The orange-red sunset bleeds across the sky like a fresh wound, casting long shadows through my floor-to-ceiling windows. I stretch my aching limbs, feeling the pull of healing tissue and the whisper of bandages beneath my clothes. The antiseptic smell from the clinic still clings to my skin, a ghost I can't shake. My apartment is smaller, much of it huge panes of floor-to-ceiling windows.
The wall thing again.
It feels different now, alien somehow. Twelve hundred square feet of emptiness staring back at me through pristine glass walls. The city sprawls below, a maze of lights and secrets I used to navigate with anonymity. Now? Not so much.
“No paintings. No basket of junk mail. One sculpture,” I hear Xeno say from behind me, his voice carrying an edge I can't quite place. “Interesting.”
The words hit harder than they should. That sculpture, a souvenir, reminds me - this place may never be a home. It's a waystation, a temporary shelter for someone who never planned to put down roots. The bare walls mock me now, reflecting nothing but tactical advantages and escape routes. It’s barren, like me. Huh, maybe it’s exactly what I am—rooms with empty spaces, blank walls with nothing to capture the eye, a thing to be tossed away, forgotten.
“Hey, you can go where you pay rent,” I mutter, but my voice lacks conviction. The open-concept layout I'd chosen five years ago when I accepted the job suddenly feels exposed and vulnerable. Every corner is visible from the front door except for the master bath and walk-in closet. Perfect sight lines for defense, but nowhere to hide.
Xeno's presence fills the space like smoke, impossible to ignore “And give you an out. Fuck no.”
“Lucky me.” My voice oozes sarcasm. “Oh, and the tour is self-guided.”
Every room except the master bath, the only bath, and the walk-in closet is visible from the front door. I opted out of the elevator entrance.
“Say that to all your visitors?”
Two steps down on the left is the living area— a huge L-shaped red suede couch with an ottoman that serves as a table and hidden storage. Centered on the sliver of black-painted brick that separates more floor-to-ceiling windows, a giant television monitor mounted but rarely used. Two steps down on the right, all the kitchen appliances line up on the left like good soldiers in front of the elevated counter where I eat most of my meals. My bedroom has the tactical advantage; it sits on a dais, and the nation’s capital watches my back. No one else ever has.
Focusing on the hidden security panel, I hold still, allowing it to scan my retina. The contact lens that I feel naked without cools, signaling the connection. I know my eye color has shifted from brown to a vivid green. “House, status report,” I mumble, rolling my shoulders back. “Any breaches?”
“All systems green, Dani. No one has entered this unit since your departure. I detect one bio-signature in addition to yours.” House continues his pre-programmed, British accent, a welcomed familiarity. “Voss, Xeno, a resident of The Governor, has entered your premises. Shall I activate your do not disturb notification on all electronic devices and your sexual healing playlist?”
Shit, I’d forgotten that House had been programmed to heighten my privacy when I have a male visitor, other than the protectors of The Governor—Roman, Silvio, and Gabriel. Corso owned the damn block he could override every privacy and defense protocol.
“No—”
“Fuck, yes,” Xeno chuckles, looking around my space with a wry grin. “What else does she like, House? Cum on her tits. Cum-soaked panties. Cum deep in her ass.”
My pussy clenches as he tells me what he wants to do to me. I squeeze my legs together, ignoring the wetness pooling between folds. Luckily, he’s behind me, unable to detect the changes in my breathing.
“You’re not authorized,” House replies. Its posh British accent makes it sound more like a private butler than an AI-integrated defense program.
Xeno steps up behind me. A slight tremor ripples over my skin. The heat of him warms my back. My body betrays me, every nerve ending sparking to life. I resist the urge to lean on him. This isn’t the clinic. I can’t blame my reaction to him on medications.
“I want full access,” he whispers, close enough that his breath stirs my hair.
My mind races through the implications. Full access means trust. Trust means vulnerability. Vulnerability gets people killed. But the wall I've built between myself and the world feels thinner with every passing second. His words have a dual meaning. I’m not surprised that he’s back to talking about sex. I’m grateful he’s not asking questions about the ambush. Sex I can handle. Sharing my secrets, not so much.
If I hadn't been stuck in the fucking bed for the last two days, there's a good chance that we would have fucked each other already, grown bored, and moved on. Underneath all that crazed killer, there’s a natural-born charmer. He knows what to say and when to say it. It makes me wonder what I’m missing. How will he fuck me? Will he punish my body? Will he want to please me? Will he coax my orgasm, or will he fuck it out of me, bend my body to his will?
“You’ll get what I give you,” I say, irritated at his effect on me. I could do without sex for a while. In my line of work, relationships can be a distraction. But, fucking, that’s a necessary release. I don’t crave sex, but I crave Xeno.
“Like you gifted Rhys, allowing him to feel your pussy choking his cock?”
Knowing I fucked Rhys is messing with his head.
Why?
He didn’t know me then. Hell, he doesn’t know me now. I shouldn’t entertain his male ego bullshit, but I want to know. It’s not like I have men swinging their dicks over me every day. I look over my shoulder at Xeno. “What the fuck is your problem?”
He lowers his head, and then I feel the press of his lips on my neck. Warmth spreads through my body, my pussy pulses at the contact. A moan escapes me before I bite the inside of my cheek. I can’t let him know that his every touch is my undoing, that I love his dirty talk.
“He had you,” he whispers, nipping my ear. The hint of pain heightened my arousal. “Touched you. I’m jealous. My cock is envious.”
Damn. Straight, no chaser. I find I like that about Xeno. There’s no smoke clouding his mirror. He shows me who he is. He’s deadly, demanding, and impulsive. But he’s also attentive in a crazed, possessive way. I don’t know what exactly he’ll do next, but I trust he won’t hurt me. Even if all I am to him is a temporary fuck.
“You’re here. He’s not.” I grumble, stepping out of his reach. I distract myself from my body’s craving for more by releasing my boots and kicking them away. They click into place with a satisfying snap—part of the magnetized fibers that makes me more than the only woman responsible for protecting The Governor with these testosterone-ridden alphas; more like a one-woman army.
“What the fuck was that…the Dorothy-ruby-slipper click with your boots? They’re sexy by the way.”
Seeing Xeno studying me, those piercing eyes moving puzzle pieces around, trying to make me fit—us fit together like too normal people learning each other, was new. Oscar rarely asked me anything about myself. He gave orders. “First,” I start, turning to face him, “thank you. The snakeskin was a gift from a Friend. Second, stop referring to me as fictitious ass women who can’t figure out their shit without a damn clubhouse meeting.” Now that I’ve unhinged the lock, his offenses roll off my tongue. “Barbie—not real. Dorothy—ain’t real or black, fucking around with a dog in a tornado. “ I mutter. “I am real.”
He crosses those delicious forearms in front of his chest. “And third?”
“My suit and boots act as an exoskeleton.”
“You mean armor.” There’s something in his eyes that unnerves me. He’s seen beneath the clothes, touched my hair, made languid circles on my skin. Did he jerk off to that version of me? Weak and vulnerable? Fuck him.
“In a sense. House interfaces, updates, and initiates defense commands.”
He raises a brow at that. “And you trust the House.”
I stiffen at the subtle attack. “House never fails. It saved my life.”
Xeno narrows his eyes on me. “Sending the car, hacking the airport’s Wifi signal, you mean?”
No.
“Yes,” I say, looking away. After I escaped Oscar, I didn’t trust anybody. The Alaska compound had been emptied when I unlocked my cage. I’d dressed in the clothes I found in the cook’s quarters, loaded the money, thumb drives, and ledgers in a backpack, and fled. I called the one person I had trusted without question—Silvio. But even he knew better than to touch me. That’s when he introduced me to House, a tool to protect myself. The power to fight back went beyond my hands, House transformed me into a formidable opponent. Xeno could never know the pain and humiliation of true helplessness. “Look, you take the bed. I need to think through some things.”
Walking past me towards the raised dais, he gives a nod. It’s slight but no less weighty, as if I’ve divulged more than the words communicated. My skin burns as he rakes his eyes over me once more, his gaze lingering on my bare feet. Even the attention he pays to my toes, polished a jeweled onyx makes my pussy wetter.
“These things…related to hunting down the man bitches from the airport?”
“The word is mitches. Man plus bitches equals mitches.”
He places both hands on my mattress and pushes. I imagine those fingers spreading my thighs, how his eyes will look when he sees how wet I am for him. How he’ll push me to the edge of pain to bring me pleasure.
“Big bed. Firm mattress,” he says loud enough for me to hear him.
“Suits the purpose,” I say, rounding the couch. There are no rugs. The cool tiles feel good against my bare feet. I planned to sit but think better of it with Xeno. With him, I need every advantage. “It’s getting late. You should sleep. I’ll stand guard.”
“Dani, I’m not just going to sit back and watch. You’re not the only one they’re after, right?”
I clench my jaw. He’s testing me. The question is probing, seeking details I can’t share—won’t share. “Listen, I’m not at full strength. I need to train, regain motor control, and sharpen my reflexes. I won’t be here much.”
“Huh,” he nods as if unconvinced. “You think you’ve lost muscle memory and motor control in three days?”
Hell no, but I say, “It’s possible.”
He walks past me, giving me his back. He moves like a big cat, stealthy, agile, and powerful. Then he speaks without turning, his voice low and steady. “You’re sure about not being at full strength?”
“Yes,” I hiss, not used to explaining myself.
Before I can spit out a retort, he whips around, a knife suddenly in his hand, glinting cold and deadly. He throws it with lethal precision. It’s coming straight for my head.
“Shit,” I curse, swerve right while simultaneously slapping the knife away, the handle just inches from my face.
“What the hell, Xeno.” My heart rate jumps. My suit not only protects my vital organs but also monitors my stress response. House detects the sudden spike in my vital signs.
“Heart rate is 98 beats per minute, Dani. Elevated stress levels detected. Defense sequence initiated,” The AI’s voice calm, control, fabricated.
“Point made,” he grins. “This is fun, foreplay for killers? Ain’t fuck wrong with your reflexes.”
I lift one hand, pointing one finger at his face. “Fuck you. House, disarm. Voss, Xeno, authorized home and training mode, ” I snap, scooping the knife from the floor and tossing it on the ottoman with a thud. Xeno’s watching me, those deep brown eyes trying to read every thought I'm fighting to hide.
“You need that, Dani. Need to know you’re not broken.”
I straighten up and look at Xeno standing there unflinching, forcing a, I-don’t give-a-shit what you think facade. “I still need to train.”
Xeno steps forward, closing the gap between us. His brown eyes stare into mine. I should look away, but I won’t. All eyes on me, right? This is what I want from this man. “You’re not fooling anyone, Chocolate. Especially not me.”
“What are you talking about now.”
“You’re fighting the pull. Why? I ache to bury my cock in you. You’ll love it. Me plowing into your juicy cunt. Forgetting everything except the feel of my tongue eating out your pretty pink pussy. Then fucking you again.”
I meet his gaze, trying to steady my breathing. At this moment, I want him to fuck me into the next century. Waiting will kill me, and my bed is light years away for the extraterrestrial shit I want his dick to do with my pussy. What the hell—my brain must still be bent because of the pain medications.
Pull it together, Dani. You da’bitch.
“I have a job to do, Xeno. It’s not just about being strong or fast. It’s…” struggling to find the words that won’t betray too much, I settle for, “The attack on us. I take it personally…” I trail off.
“I get it. But you don’t get to fight this battle alone.” His voice is domineering yet persuasive. It’s hard to resist, especially when he looks at me like that.
“I’m not discussing this any further.”
“Good,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his hardness. “You need to eat.”
I give a sharp inhale, my eyes drop to his lips. I want to feel his tongue on my skin, know that my taste is flavors in his mouth. “What are you doing?”
His hand comes up, stroking my cheek like he did before, but then he cups my neck. He tightens his hold until I lift my head. His lids are at half mast, heavy with desire. “I can’t fuck you, but you can fuck me.”
As if to prove his point, he grinds his erect cock into my stomach. Inside, I feel flutters in my belly. And pussy, that hungry bitch gushes, the wetness coating my panties. “That’s not remotely sound medical advice.”
He trails kisses down my neck, and I forget to swallow. This strangled, half-gasping sound escapes my parted lips. “I Googled it.”
Why does it arouse me more that he researched fucking me? That he’s spent time learning how to wreck my pussy, and protect me from pain. “Don’t believe everything you read.”
“Then you understand why I won’t believe everything you want me to see.” He’s implying some things are hidden. Of course, he’s right to be suspicious. If he wasn’t, I could never trust him. We are the things that go bump in the night.
“Let me protect you,” I whisper. Xeno doesn’t deserve to be dragged deeper into my mess but pushing him away feels like ripping hair from my head, slamming my head against the wall. I want his touch, his kiss, his cock.
He slides one hand over my ass. “What I want from you will not hurt,” he nips my chin with his teeth, “unless that’s how you like it.”
“Xeno,” I whisper, his name a plea on my lips.
“Tonight, you rest. Tomorrow, we train.” He starts to push my jacket off my shoulders, careful to avoid bumping my injury site.
“We?” I ask, extending my arms from my sides, to assist him with removal.
He drapes my jacket over the back of the couch. “I don’t stutter, Miss Alonzo.”
He tosses my words back at me. I don’t correct him. I never correct anyone. Silvio knew my husband. Corso knows I’m a widow. A black widow. I took Oscar’s pathetic life, and before I left, I divested his bedroom safe of all its contents—every dollar, thumb drive, and black book. He owed me a fresh start.
This time when Xeno kisses me, sucking my earlobe between his teeth. I give in to the sensation bombarding me. I know he feels the shivers overtaking my body, the hunger in my ragged breathing. His lips at my throat are greedy. I whimper at the feel of his teeth grazing my skin. Pushing my curves into his mass, I love it when he sucks my skin into his mouth, increasing the pressure. He’s marking me. A phone buzzes - mine.
“Leave it,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose to my cheek.
I pull it free of my hip holster. “I’m the bodyguard, remember.”
It’s one new message from an unknown number:
Did you think I wouldn't hunt you down, you worthless whore bitch? You’ll pay for what you stole in Alaska.
My phone case creaks in protest of my strangling grip.
Xeno stops. “Hey, Chocolate,” he looks at my phone, then back at my face. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I push against his shoulder. “Let’s eat.”
I signed my death warrant years ago. And now Xeno's caught in the crossfire. Fucking around with me isn’t worth his life.