10. Leon
10
LEON
T he video feed cuts out like it’s fucking amateur night right as Ivan confronts Mia.
It takes everything within me not to punch a hole through my monitor.
“FUCK!” I shout into the empty house.
Vaguely, I’m aware that it had been a smart decision to stay away from the Cartel’s mansion tonight. If anyone discovered me, Mia’s cover would have been blown.
But right now, I’m struggling to see a single merit in this line of thinking. I should be storming the place right now. I should get into my car and drive and drive until I have her in my sights. I need to make sure that she’s okay. Screw everything else.
All I have is a pathetic little pulsing dot on my screen. It’s a tracker, not a heart monitor, but I still watch it as if it indicates a sign of life.
I wonder if I can convince her to wear a heart monitor next time.
My hand instantly begins to pull on my own hair, sharply tugging me back to reality.
Next time? There shouldn’t have been a first time.
I should never have agreed to this. I should never have allowed her to put herself in danger, should never have asked her to go looking for more information.
I should have charged the fucking camera for her.
Now, there’s nothing I can do but wait. I think I might go insane.
I swipe up on my phone screen and dial Dante.
“I’ve lost eyes on her,” I bark as soon as he picks up. I hope that the strain in my voice is less apparent down the phone line.
It had been necessary to tell him about the marital arrangement with Mia, although from his subdued reaction, I’d say he already had an idea of what was going on. After all, he did sign the alliance papers.
“Shit,” Teo’s second responds instantly. “I’m not spotting any unusual movement. Rotation of staff has been consistent at this point, but I won’t know if there’s been any disruption to their shift pattern for another…three minutes and twenty seconds.”
“What if she doesn’t have three minutes?”
Dante shuffles on the other end of the line. “What did you last see?”
“Ivan. He’d found her somewhere she shouldn’t have been.”
“Do you think she can handle herself?”
The question dangles in the air between us. I don’t answer, not entirely trusting myself to say something rational.
“Leon. It’s your call. I can go in and get her out, but I need you to be positive that she can’t deal with this on her own.”
If it were anyone else, I’d give them a grace period. That would be the smart thing to do. To trust my men to make the right decisions and only jeopardize the mission as a last resort.
But Mia isn’t just some Prince’s Guild lackey. She’s my wife.
God, the word barely has any significance between us. I have no right to claim it. But right now, I can feel myself curling around the word protectively, possessively. I feel like some kind of dragon curling around a precious, sparkling gem.
That one. There, in the stunning black dress and the garter that is slightly too high up her perfect thigh. She’s mine. She’s in danger.
My wife, my wife, my wife.
I shake myself, trying to strangle the thought. “Tell me as soon as the rotation changes.”
It’s the right call. Just not an easy one.
Dante stays on the line while we wait in silence. My eyes never stray from that pulsing dot on my screen.
Then.
“Shift as normal, Leon. No disruption inside.”
The breath I was holding knocks through my ribs as I let it out. “Right.”
“Again, it’s your call, but…”
“Continue to monitor the situation as planned,” I say with a sigh.
“Copy that.” Dante doesn’t immediately hang up as expected. “She’s…a force to be reckoned with. She’ll be fine, Leon.”
I don’t take too much comfort from his words, but I swallow a scolding response all the same. “Update me if anything goes awry.”
I’m in the kitchen when the front door opens. The very picture of calm and collected.
If you ignore the fact I’ve been tracking her little dot on my phone for hours now.
The tension in my shoulders releases a bit more with every centimeter it beats back toward my location. It’s not a heartbeat, I remind myself. But she’s coming anyway. Soon, she will be home and safe.
Of course, someone could have intercepted her and taken the tracking deVitale. But Dante called to say he was following her back to Carmen Rubio’s apartment, where she dropped off the debutante without any issues.
Dante was likely parked outside now, watching as Mia entered the house. I make a mental note to thank Teo for letting me borrow his second.
“Leon?” her voice calls out.
“In here.”
There’s the clicking of heels on the wooden floor, and then…
…and then she’s there.
She’s still unfairly stunning in that sinful black dress, still holding herself tall. Even her makeup seems to have stayed exactly in place.
I bury my fingernails into the palms of my hands to stop myself from reaching for her. Something primal within me needs to do more than see, to touch, to make sure that she’s okay. That there’s not even a hair out of place on her head.
Words don’t feel like enough, but I force myself to settle for them instead. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, fine,” she brushes me off, uncaring, unaware of the knots coiling in my stomach. “Did I get everything you needed?”
I swallow. I’m still looking, still assessing every visible inch of her. “The camera cut off.”
“Oh. Sorry, I should have charged it more.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Leon?”
“Hm?” My eyes snap to meet hers, looking away from analyzing her preference to weight bear on her left leg. Did she always do that? Or did she injure herself at the party?
“Don’t…take this the wrong way, but…are you alright?”
A bark of laughter escapes my lips. Me? I shake my head in disbelief. “We can debrief in the morning if you’re tired. I caught enough of the evening to begin making progress.”
“Okay. I’ll go then.”
No, no. No. I’ve only just got her back. She’s only just become safe.
“You have a room here,” I blurt out. “If you want it. Save you the trouble of getting across town.”
Please, please. Please.
I feel so tightly coiled. If I make one wrong move, I’ll completely spring into chaos. I won’t be able to let her go. I can’t let her leave this house. Not until this feeling ends, not until I’m sure she’s okay.
“I suppose that makes sense.” She bites her lip. “Will you be coming up?”
Her cheeks instantly redden as I look up at her in alarm. “I mean, you said you were going to begin making progress. I was wondering if you intending to sleep tonight,” she corrects herself hurriedly.
“There’s not much point. Usually, after something like this, I’m a little…pent up.” It’s not even a lie, although this level of anxiety is definitely new. “But you should rest.”
She nods and starts to leave, only to linger in the doorway, hesitating.
There’s something she’s not saying. She must have been hurt, after all. They must have gotten to her. They must have threatened her…
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I press, unable to keep the desperation out of my tone this time.
“Yes. It’s just that I’m…um…I started ovulating.”
Her words are like a master key, making quick work of all the emotions I’ve had restrained in the back of my mind. “What?”
“I got the notification on the ride over and?—”
I’m like a moth to a flame. Her eyes go wide with something indiscernible as I make my approach.
My hands instantly reach for her face to hold her there, and finally, there’s the touch I’ve been craving. It’s an overindulgence to examine her like this, checking her head, her jaw, her neck, hands skimming over skin just to make sure.
“I’m not tarnished goods.” She breaks me from my spell with the harshness of her words. “Do you really need to inspect me like this?”
My movements immediately freeze up. “I’m not?—"
“Can we just get this over with? It’s been a long night.”
She’s not looking at me. I need her to look at me.
“Yes, it has.” The words come out more tenderly than I intended, but it works. Those huge green eyes look up at me, and I watch as her mouth drops into a slight “O” .
I could get lost in those eyes and just hold her close until morning breaks us apart. I’d be satisfied with only that.
But her eyes lower to my lips and suddenly, the possibility of more sets everything within me alight.
I could have her right here on the kitchen floor, pushed up against the door frame, over the counter like I’d imagined only a few days ago. I could. It would be…hard to justify, with comfortable beds right upstairs. But I could do it.
“What are you?—”
But I can’t explain , so instead, I sweep up her legs and pick her up, bridal style. The irony isn’t lost on me, just buried under the overwhelming sensation of her body pressed firmly against mine.
“Put me down!” she half stutters the words.
“You must be tired.” The excuse sounds feeble as I move us toward the stairs, up toward my bedroom.
“I don’t need you to manhandle me.”
“Don’t you?”
I can feel her tense in my arms. “I can walk.”
“I can carry you.”
She protests some more, but I ignore every word until my bedroom door slams shut behind us.
I set her down somewhat gingerly. I assume that’s what the irritated frown on her face is for. But the expression does nothing to mar her loveliness. That fucking dress she’s wearing might be the death of me.
She stands there, defiant, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, waiting for me. Are we doing this then? she seems to ask without the words leaving her mouth.
In response, I remove my cufflinks. It’s a formal gesture that I follow with the unbuttoning of my shirt.
I don’t miss the way her eyes rake over my bare chest as soon as it’s revealed to her. I let the smugness into my smirk as I take a step toward her.
“This…off. Take this off,” I demand as I circle around her, lifting the strap of her dress for a moment with my fingers. There are no bruises or marks on the backs of her arms or shoulders.
She does so carefully, letting the dress pool at her feet. She’s remarkably confident, almost pragmatic.
There’s nothing beneath the dress but the garter she flashed at me earlier.
“What the fuck,” I hiss, hands already reaching out to trail down her sides. I rake over every inch of my skin. No bruises, no marks. She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine.
She swallows. “The dress was tight. You could see the panty lines through the fabric.”
“You walked into that den of vipers looking like that with nothing on under your dress?” I growl as I come around back to her front.
“I had no intention of letting them know that,” she shoots back, jaw set stubbornly. It’s so sharp, yet it makes me want to kiss it…all of it.
My lips seek hers out immediately at the thought. Drawing her close by the back of the neck, I press my mouth against that stubbornness, eliciting a small gasp from her lips. “May I remind you that you are married.”
Fingers press tightly into my arms, holding me in place. Encouraging me on.
“I don’t hear my husband complaining.”
The hands trailing down her skin pause between her legs, where there is nothing preventing me from palming her sensitive nakedness.
Her gasp comes out as more of a moan. The sound is delicious and instantly goes straight to my cock.
“He’s not,” I whisper up her jaw.
For all her restraint, confidence, and pragmatism, it’s Mia who moves first.
In a flash, her arms are locked around my neck, holding me down to her level so that she can press her lips against mine.
It’s a filthy, filthy kiss. All teeth and tongue scraping against my own, drawing out hot, panting breaths from us both. I want all of it, need all of it. Every movement is such perfect evidence of her well-being; it soothes something deep within my soul.
My hand remains between her thighs, giving her something to grind upon as we battle for dominance. I practically whine in her mouth at her desperate thrusts.
She desires this; she desires me.
And fuck, if that doesn’t tear me apart and unleash something entirely primal within me. I feel it in the way my fingers dig into her waist, possessively.
Mine, mine, mine.
I feel it in the strain of my pants, the way my teeth gorge themselves on her neck. Claiming, marking.
Mine, mine, mine.
“If you don’t fuck me soon, I will bite off your fucking ear,” she whispers far too close to the offending appendage.
Her voice is delirious in her desperation, a perfect match for my own feelings as I push a finger through the slickness between her thighs.
There’s a cry and then, “Not that.”
I ignore her, coating my finger before pushing it against her opening. She immediately slumps against me as I press it into her.
“Not again…not…” Her voice is strangled, barely indistinguishable from her groans. “Just fuck me, please.”
But it’s intoxicating the way she crumbles under the rhythm of my hand, like I’m the only thing holding her up. It’s so vulnerable, it’s so unlike the woman I have begun to get used to having in my life. No one gets to see her like this but me. It’s all mine.
“I want you to enjoy this.” I nuzzle into the side of her hair. “I want you to be able to take me comfortably.”
“F…f-fuck that,” she hisses.
I’m so distracted by the way she starts quivering that I don’t notice her arm reaching down to snatch my hand away. She gives me no time to retaliate, slipping out of my grip entirely and moving over to the bed.
“Fuck me. Now.” She looks angry. Fiery. Desperate. Her lips are swollen with the feverish kisses she just adorned my body with.
How can I deny her a goddamn thing?
I strip out of my pants immediately, my cock already thick and hard in my hand. I allow myself a stroke as I look down at her. Then another, as I reach the side table for the lube.
“I said, now, ” she half-yells as I take my time coating myself thoroughly.
When I return to her, I place my spare hand over her mouth. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”
She glares at me over my hand, green eyes half-clouded with lust as I align myself at her entrance.
“No complaints about entering a den of vipers, but as soon as you need something from me, well…” I push into her, barely past the tip.
My heart shudders at the sight of her eyes rolling back, her moan smothered by my fingers.
“It’s maddening.” It takes considerable effort to get the words out. “No regard for your own safety. Even now, you want it rough, don’t you?”
Her back arches as I push all the way to the hilt.
“Listen to me closely.” I withdraw, only to slam back into her again. This time, the sound she makes escapes my fingers. “I’m the only one who gets to be rough with you.”
I slam into her again, and my vision begins to blur. “You don’t take risks with anyone else.”
Her legs tremble with the effort to meet my next thrust, driving me even deeper. “And you’re going to start wearing a fucking heart rate monitor.”
Teeth bite into my hand as I lose all semblance of control. Her fingers scrape down my back, making her own marks on my skin. Dear God, do I love it. I love that she’s claiming me as I’ve claimed her.
I love the way her tightness around my cock gives me the most excruciating pleasure I’ve ever known.
I love that she’s here and safe and writhing beneath me. The only bruises and markings on her body are the ones that I’ve put there.
I feel it when her body clenches, when the spasms of her orgasm hit, and the most beautiful sound erupts from her mouth. I could listen to it forever, I could so easily stay with her like this, fall into…
My orgasm hits with brutal force and unnerving clarity. As I gaze upon the stars in my own eyes, the ones that cast her in an ethereal sort of softness, the pressure in my chest becomes too much.
This is too much. All of it, these feelings—the way she feels—is all too much.
Fuck.
I wrench my mouth from her skin, from where I could taste her sweat and desire, and push myself away.
It’s done. I’ve done what was needed. I can’t keep feeling this way.
Because it feels far too much like vulnerability. It feels too much like a weakness to be exploited by my enemies. It feels too much like clouded judgment.
I would have jeopardized the mission tonight for her in a heartbeat.
She moans out her protest as I yank myself out of her, but I keep putting the inches between us. Clawing away from that soft, raging thing that threatens to consume me whole.
It feels like an obsession.
Unnatural, unhealthy, unwarranted obsession. I want to lock the doors and never let her leave this room again.
My breath comes out in short pants as I try to gather my willpower. Every breath of distance between us gives me a new sense of clarity. I cling to it, pulling myself away and off the bed.
“Leon?” She looks up at me in half-delirious confusion, blankets pulled haphazardly over her perfect body.
It would be easy to close the distance again, soothe the worry of her brow, tease a hand through her hopelessly tangled curls. But it’s too dangerous a path. I can’t fuel this obsession anymore.
“You can sleep here tonight,” I manage to choke out in a level tone. “We can debrief in the morning.”
I turn to leave, grabbing my discarded clothes from the floor as I do.
“Are you…walking away from me right now?”
The betrayal in her voice is the hardest thing to stomach, and when I reach the bedroom door, the bile tastes rancid in my mouth. “There was nothing in our vows that specified cuddling.”
I close the door behind me before she has a chance to respond.