Chapter 14
Viviana
S taring at the ceiling, my mind races with images from a week ago—the body bags, the fire, the smell. I swear I can still smell burnt flesh, or maybe my mind is just playing tricks on me. I can barely sleep. Declan’s been in and out of the house, barely getting a couple of hours’ rest at a time.
I tried to talk to him, but he brushed me off like I had some contagious disease. To hell with him for thinking I had something to do with that. How can he even think that? I might be a lot of things, but a murderer isn’t one of them! I’m not like him or his brothers, damn savages straight out of a Viking movie, ready to kill and take whatever they want.
I’ve been wandering this godforsaken house for days with nothing to do but think. My mind keeps drifting to dark places: my father, that date, the picture of Declan’s girlfriend. I shake my head as my breathing quickens.
I’ve been fighting off this strange feeling, my stomach twisting, my lungs burning every time I try to take a deep breath.
I can’t live like this, but it’s not like I can tell Declan. He already thinks I’m working with the Russians or that I’m somehow single-handedly responsible for all the fires and destruction. Like I’m some kind of Torch Woman who lights things up with a glare.
Then there’s that kiss... The way he kissed me, his warm breath on my neck. God, I can’t let myself go back there. His tattooed, massive hands all over my body, pulling me close—he felt so good.
His body is like a temple, a sexy, forbidden temple that I want to get lost in for hours. His woodsy scent lingers in the back of my mind, the way his muscles tensed under my touch, every inch of him responding to me in a way I’ve never felt before. And, of course, there was that incredible cock pressing against me.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, rubbing my face, feeling the heat creep up my neck as I remember how I ground into him like a damn bitch in heat.
“Do you need a glass of water?” A voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife.
“Oh!” I jump back, clutching my already-twisting stomach.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to—” Connor’s tone is calm, with a hint of amusement.
I cut him off too quickly, trying to hide the heat in my face. “It’s fine. I was just... thinking.”
“About?” His eyes are inquisitive, and he seems a lot more comfortable around me than he did weeks ago. I’m not sure if I like that.
“Life, in a way,” I lie.
“Deep stuff, then,” Connor says, rubbing his messy hair. Only now do I notice how perfect it is, glowing honey-coloured in the sunlight filtering through the window, giving him a strangely regal look.
“Yeah, kind of,” I mumble, staring a bit too long until he raises an eyebrow, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Where’s Declan?” I move to the bookshelf, pretending to search for a book.
Smooth, Viviana. So smooth.
“Meetings with the Keeffes,” he says, a faint trace of bitterness in his voice.
“Oh... those.” I snarl, unable to contain my disgust. The way Nolan came at me at the fire, the hate in his eyes as he spat his anger, demanding to know where the Russians were like I had some kind of crystal ball that could pinpoint their location.
I was ready to punch him in his teeth if he came closer, but Declan... Oh my. The way he pulled Nolan back with just one hand sent him sprawling to the ground. His imposing frame in front of me, muscles tensed, pulling his suit jacket to the seams.
He rolled his neck, and I could hear the crackling tension. His hands clenched into fists, looking like a bull about to charge, defending me like a knight would his queen.
“Guess they didn’t make a good impression that day,” Connor leans against the wall, studying my face.
“No, they really didn’t,” I shrug. I had known Nolan long before I saw him at the wedding. “Do they still think I had a part in that?”
“I don’t think so. Declan made sure of that,” he says with a wry grin.
“Declan believed me?” My eyebrows shoot up as I face him, crossing my arms defensively.
“Is there a reason he shouldn’t?” His eyes turn serious, shadowed, with a smirk that’s anything but friendly.
I roll my eyes, muttering, “You too, Connor?”
He lets out a low chuckle. “Not really. You don’t have that killer look.”
“I don’t... for now, at least,” I reply sharply.
He steps closer, touching my shoulder to turn me toward him. This kid is bolder than before. “I was on the rooftop that day, Viviana. I saw how your hand shook when you pointed that gun at the Russian. You were not going to shoot him, let alone Declan or any of us.” His face softens, his voice lowering. “You’re not some cold-hearted killer...”
“Like you three?” I interrupt, eyeing him, trying to understand this new way he’s looking at me like he trusts me and believes in me.
He whistles, shaking his head with a hand to his chest in mock indignation. “Ouch.” Then, the humour fades, and a darker expression takes its place. “And your family? Trust me, Vi, they’re worse.”
He has me there. My father…Far worse than the Callaghans can ever be.
“Why did Declan protect me at the club?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Imagine someone hurting the Irish Consortium leader’s wife right in front of him?” He shrugs, stepping back and leaning against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
Only now do I notice his arms—muscular and strong, with a tattoo of a skull similar to Declan’s. He’s not as broad as his brothers, but those arms look like they can do real damage, veins pulsing as he flexes. I realize he’s caught me staring, and my face flushes, but I shake it off.
“So it’s all for appearances. Got it.” I snap, my voice carrying more hurt than I intended. What was I expecting? It’s not like we’re married for love. Connor is right; if Declan had let Nolan hit me, everyone would know the leader can’t protect his wife just like he couldn’t protect his girlfriend.
“Don’t be like that, Viviana,” Connor says, narrowing his eyes.
“Like what?” I try to brush it off, but my heart clenches, retreating into itself.
“He cares for you. I’d even say he likes you, in his own twisted, cold way.” He gestures theatrically. “Declan has a special way of showing affection. You just have to read between the lines.”
“Right,” I mutter. “Read between the lines. Must be like those lines in contracts, way down at the bottom, too damn tiny for anyone to notice.”
“Trust me,” he says, winking as he pushes himself off the wall, heading down the dark hallway toward the study.
I blink, trying to make sense of this whole conversation. Is he drunk? He doesn’t look drunk or high. Maybe he’s just... being chatty and nice?
I sit back on the couch, and before I know it, I drift off, only to wake up hours later to the feeling of a hand gently stroking my hair. Blinking slowly, I look up to see Declan, his eyes shadowed, pain simmering in them.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
“Another attack. This time... our man...” He stumbles over the words for a moment, and it’s enough to show me the hurt. So, there is something beneath those cold walls in his eyes.
I sit up quickly, covering my mouth to suck in a breath. “Oh my God!” My eyes search his, half-expecting to see some trace of mistrust directed at me, but all I see is pain and exhaustion. Declan looks so tired; I know he hasn’t slept or eaten in days. I reach for his hand, and though he flinches, I hold firm, guiding him to the kitchen. It’s after midnight, and the house is empty and quiet.
I hear footsteps on the floor above; I’m guessing Kian has arrived with Declan.
“Sit,” I command, a little more forceful than I intended. He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement curling his lips as he sits at the table. I rummage for eggs, bread, and some cheese.
“You don’t need to,” he murmurs.
“Shhh,” I reply, trying to quiet him.
“Did you just shush me?” His tone is clipped, almost incredulous.
“You need to eat,” I say, softening my voice.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles, but goes to the fridge for a beer, chugging nearly half in one go as he sits back down.
“Drinking on an empty stomach is never a good idea,” I say, shaking my head.
“Oh, come on, Mom,” he mocks, raising his hands when I give him a death stare. “Sorry.”
I smirk. “Just give me a minute,” I say, setting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him and returning to cut the rest of the cheese.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” he says, his voice quieter. I can feel his gaze burning on my back. I don’t turn; I don’t respond. “Though, I know you’d probably rather not see me at all,” he adds, sounding weary. Dark circles under his eyes give him a haunted look.
“You’re the one avoiding me like the plague,” I chuckle nervously, the silence stretching.
I hear the chair scrape against the hardwood, and my breath catches. His presence fills the space behind me, close but not touching, hovering like a shadow.
“Is that what you think, firecracker?” His voice loses its weariness, taking on a low, dominant tone that sends a shiver through me.
“I haven’t seen you since the fire.” I swallow, focusing on cutting the cheese. “You still think I had something to do with it? And with what happened today?” I try my best to hide the hurt in my voice; I don’t know why the fact that he thinks I had something to do with any of this bothers me so much.
I hear him take a deep breath, a faint grunt in his chest. “Turn around,” he orders, his voice thick with authority, barely a whisper in my ear. I freeze, my hands like ice, my stomach churning. “Viviana, I want to see your eyes. Turn the fuck around.”
Setting down the knife, I turn, careful not to brush against him. His tired eyes burn with something darker now.
Declan stares at me like a predator eyeing his prey. My breathing quickens, my chest rising and falling, skin hypersensitive under his gaze.
“I don’t think...” He stops, shaking his head slowly like he’s trying to find the right words. “I know you have nothing to do with this, Viviana.” The words hit me, and something shifts inside, something deep and raw. His eyes soften, though shadows linger there, and I ache to wipe them away.
Biting my lip, I try to keep my mind and body in check, but my body’s betraying me. I need to control myself; I need to hold back...
Why do I need to hold back? Declan is my husband, after all—a kind of fake husband, but that’s beyond the point now. He saved me, kept my father at bay, and even let me back into the old room. I’m an adult woman, damn it! Why can’t I just let go?
Without a second thought, I grab his shirt and pull him toward me, pressing my lips to his. He freezes, hands gripping my shoulders, then pulls back slightly. “I don’t think my balls can handle much more teasing, firecracker,” he mutters, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.
“I want you to fuck me, Declan,” I blurt out, hardly recognizing the purr in my voice. Declan’s entire demeanour changes. His eyes darken with desire, muscles tensing as he leans in.
“Are you sure, Viviana?” he murmurs, searching my face.
When he finds his answer, he grabs the back of my head, kissing me so hard I whimper, his tongue dominating my mouth. His hand moves to my top, pulling it over my head.
He glances down at my pink bra, a wicked grin on his face. “Pink?” He chuckles darkly, his eyes fixed on my chest, hungry.
“Go to hell, Irishman,” I retort, pulling him close, my hands unbuttoning his jacket and tossing it to the floor. I do the same with his shirt, and the sight of his chiselled chest nearly makes me purr.
Every muscle is carved like a statue, tattoos moving with each breath. I press kisses to his chest, and he groans, his muscles flexing as the heat between my legs intensifies.
I continue to kiss his chest, moving south slowly as my fingers move to his belt. He catches my wrists; I look up at him, and a chill runs down my spine. His eyes look fiery, and his face looks like the devil itself. Licking his lips, he pulls me up, bending me over his shoulder, and I draw in a ragged breath.
“What are you doing?!”
“There is no fucking way I’m getting interrupted again,” he grumbles wickedly as he strides to his master bedroom, closing the door with a small kick.
He throws me to the bed. “Take your jeans off,” he orders, staring straight into my goddamn soul like he is about to suck it out of me. I do as ordered; removing my jeans, I sit in bed with my underwear. “Fuck, you are so beautiful,” he mutters slowly.
He crawls over the bed until he is on top of me; he kisses me hard, violently; his kisses are demanding and dominant, making my entire body freeze momentarily under him.
I try to clench my legs, but he stands right in the middle of them; it takes all my strength not to grind on his leg again! His hand grabs my neck with enough force to make me lift from the bed as his other hand unstraps my bra with a medical precision that makes me think how experienced he is at this.
He pushes my throat to the mattress, and his mouth immediately travels around my hard nipple; he licks and kisses, but then he goes right to my peaks and gently bites it. My back arches to his mouth, and I let out a soft hum. his tongue twirls on each of my nipples as I feel one of his hands wrap around my panties before he tears the lace fabric in two, sending it to the floor.
His hand cups my entire pussy, my wet, dripping pussy.
“Oh God,” I whisper, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as pleasure bursts into me.
He chuckles darkly, “No God here, firecracker, just the fucking devil.” He groans, his hot breath on my nipple, as his thick, tattooed finger enters my wet pussy; he slides right in and curls it immediately, and I scream out his name, “That’s better.” His voice is laced with a primal, deep hunger.
His finger feels so good inside me as he pulls it in and out, stroking my clit in small, slow circles with his thumb. I move into him, needing more; I need to feel all of him. I want to be filled up with his cock.
“Please, Declan,” I beg him; his lips crash into mine, biting my bottom lip; he inserts another digit, stretching me more.
“Just because you are being such a good girl,” he purrs in a rough voice as I shiver, feeling my white heat pour into his fingers.
His lips are still on mine as he swallows every hum and whimper, I let out; my orgasm is so close I can taste it.
He moves his fingers faster.
“Can you take another firecracker?” he asks while leaving small kisses and tiny bites all over my neck.
I whimper, my back arching slightly, “Yes…”
I feel his other digit at my entrance, teasing me, his fingers circling my entrance slowly, making a little pressure but not entering me as his thumb starts to put more pressure on my clit, “Declan,” I purr his name, begging him as I move my hips to force him to get in me.
He stares into my eyes; those eyes are enough to almost tilt me over the edge; there is a menacing twinkle in them, something raw and animalistic.
“Look at me, Viviana,” he demands, licking his bottom lip. I do as he orders; I stare at his eyes, panting hard, trying to control my breathing.
When I finally start to stabilize my body, his three fingers plunge into me hard, and I scream in pleasure.
He begins to thrust into me, finger-fucking me without any mercy as his thumb circles harder and faster on my clit, my arousal dripping into my thighs, down my ass; I’m panting for air, he curls his long, thick fingers, touching something inside me, and an explosion of pleasure rips through me.
He pulls his entire body into me as I crash into him, his lips on my hard nipple as he sucks on it. I see stars floating, and my entire body seems like it’s in a trance as I fight to regain control.
I just let myself go into the massive waves of pleasure as Declan continues to finger fuck me, dragging my orgasm for what feels like forever. I hear the wet sounds of his hand; I feel the wetness pouring down.
“Oh my God!” I moan louder than intended. His lips hover over my ear, his breathing too hot on my sensible skin.
“Not him, baby.” He curls his fingers again on my ultra-sensible inside, and I yelp into his shoulder, digging my nails into his shoulders so hard I think I draw blood. He continues to slowly move his finger on my clit while removing his fingers from inside me. I purr at the feeling,
“My turn, firecracker,” he rumbles into my lips as he presses a soft kiss on my forehead.