Chapter Thirty-Eight #4
My mood is sour, and my mind is frayed by the time I’ve spoken with everybody.
A plan to deal with this rebellion is in place, but it’s going to take a lot more effort to sustain.
Lemuel is my prisoner—I must say, I’m very pleased with this.
And it’s all thanks to Trevel Fenwick, who is now living in my mansion with me, having brought along one of my favorite inmates from the collection, Byron Kang.
Because I’m not an idiot, I don’t trust that Byron has fully defected yet. We’ve had a complicated relationship over the years, and I see loyalty as something rather important to him. But then, he too has grievances with the other side.
Luthor and Ren having sort of disappeared worked perfectly for me. The storm saved Lexington and Warren’s codependent lives, and it’s fine. I’m more than happy to allow people to live if they’re tenacious enough to stay breathing. So long as they understand that it makes them fair game.
Apparently, a tender was stolen from one of my yachts, and someone reported having seen it sailing off into the storm with two people resembling them on it.
I have to assume it was them, since they’re currently unaccounted for, and I cannot fathom a scenario where they make it out of that journey alive.
Honestly, they’re the least of my problems right now. The point is that Byron and Trevel are now exactly where I wanted them to be… with me. I will solidify their loyalty, but in the meantime, I need three things, above all else…
I need to find Felix Darcey.
I need the cartel to come through.
And I need everyone to quit bothering me so I can adjourn to my floor and have a drink by myself.
“Make sure Tomas is on the next boat coming over,” I bark at Yari while stalking toward the stairs. “I need him here ASAP to work on that fucking device.”
“Yes, sir,” Yari answers fast, scurrying behind me while typing on his phone. “Anything else?”
“Yea,” I rumble, ascending my staircase to get away from him. “No disturbances.”
Up on my floor, I saunter into my bedroom, unbuttoning my shirt. It’s smeared with dirt and blood as a reminder of how fucked up this night has been. I scoff to myself, stepping out of my dress shoes and padding toward the en suite.
I barely make it two steps before a body springs out from behind the door, shoving me backward.
There’s a blade instantly being pressed against my throat, emerald irises sparkling vindication.
Every bit of breath gusts from within my lungs.
“Hola… Diablo.”
Dios…
He’s here.
“Paja—”
“Shut up,” he snaps, digging the blade deeper into my flesh. The bite of the blade stings, close to breaking the skin, sending a chill through me like the dusting of his diamond lips over mine. “On your knees.”
I swallow down the whimper that wants to leave me as I drop to my knees post-haste. Immediately, I’m gazing up at him with stars in my eyes.
He’s… here.
It was him in the prison…
He came back. For me.
My heart is racing, flying in my chest. I’m shivering already, fixated on this vibrant angel, even more dazzled than I thought possible.
Like the last time on crystal meth.
Nearly five years ago, he came to kill me at Edge, and wound up fleeing with my every ounce of composure and every single droplet of chill I’ve ever had for this hypnotic creature.
He took it all, and I’ve been anxiously awaiting his return so that I could get it back…
This feeling, this soar that he’s responsible for.
Whether he’s here to attempt killing me again makes no difference.
“Whatever you want…” I breathe to him from the floor. “It’s yours, pajarito. I’ve been waiting for you, baby.”
“Isn’t that sweet,” he hisses, eyes narrowed, head tilted.
Oh, he’s light-years angrier than last time. I can tell by how calm he is.
I’m marveling. So different…
He’s obviously grown since the last time I saw him; he was barely eighteen then. He’s become more of a man.
And yet…
My eyes dip over what he’s wearing—a negligee of black silk and lace that fits his frame exquisitely. He’s broader, more defined now. And yet he’s dressed… like her.
Like he could be Avianna, only much more… natural. Strands of shiny bronze flowing to his shoulders, same length as last time. He looks like himself this way. Taut definition visible beneath the sheer fabric.
He’s clean, and he smells… God fuck me, he smells incredible. Still, it’s clear that he was in the prison when it fell, some dirt and bruises on his supple flesh. Circles under his eyes.
I hate to think of what he’s been through here…
Because clearly he was her. The mystery girl in the East.
“You’ve kept me waiting, pajarito,” I tell him gently, reaching out to touch.
He kicks me back, like a dog. “Hands off. We’re not doing that this time.” He bends a bit, pointing the knife at me. “I’m not your little bird anymore, Diablo.”
“You will always be mi pajarito.” My head tilts as I lick my bottom lip, coveting his every inch with my eyes. “Siempre.”
A visible flush crawls across his skin that clearly makes him angry because he growls, “Then your little bird is going to slice you open, Ivory. Hear me when I tell you, I’ve gone through hell and back, and I will not stop until you’re bleeding out.
For my father, for my mother… For Avianna, you will die tonight. ”
“Dios, baby, you’re making me so hard,” I growl, crawling closer to him. “Give me another taste, sweet thing, and then you can kill me, I promise…”
“Callate,” he seethes, hand a bit shaky as he holds the knife barely an inch from my face.
I was wondering where that went…
He sees that I’m recognizing the weapon, and hums, “It’s only fitting that I kill you with my father’s knife, Marfil… The one you stole after you killed him.”
That comment has my jaw tensing.
Grabbing the knife by the blade, I allow it to slice my palm. My lashes flutter, and I groan, “Pajarito, I will gladly bleed for you.”
“I don’t just want you to bleed,” he snarls, twisting the handle, digging the blade deeper into my flesh. I grunt, and his eyes twinkle with thrill. “I want you to bleed to death.”
“Mhm… entiendo, baby.” I nod fast. “I get it.”
Easing in closer on my knees, I let the searing pain in my hand drive me. My loins are blazing hotter than I’ve ever felt before as I peer up at him, biting my lip. He pulls the knife away, slicing me more as he does. I exhale a jagged breath.
Bringing the blade to his mouth, he licks my blood clean from the steel.
“Oh ffuuck…” My hooded lids fall shut, chest heaving. Unable to help myself—I’m like a fiend—I drop my head onto his abdomen, running my nose down the silk material covering his pelvis. “Your rage is intoxicating, love.”
He shudders, then pulls away. “S-stop it…”
I shake my head, grabbing him by the ass when he tries to back up some more. “Another quick taste, Angelito… por favor. Lo quieres…”
You want it, sweet temptation… I know you do.
“No, I don’t,” he growls. But when I squeeze his ass, he purrs. “Fffuck…”
“So so sweet.” I cup and squeeze harder, kneading in my ravenous grip while I run my mouth between his thighs. “Ummff, sweet baby Angel, I know you. Your fury is an aphrodisiac… It throbs and aches you inside. Doesn’t it, gorgeous?”
My desperate panting warms between his legs, and I can feel him swelling, stiffening from within whatever tiny panties are holding him back.
Dios… fuck me, I could erupt just from this.
“No…” he whines, squirming away from me. Backing up to the bed. “N-no. Stop…”
I crawl after him, grabbing his ankle. He crashes back onto the bed, but I stay on my knees on the floor. Because it’s where he wants me.
I can be his pet… if it gets me more more more.
“Por favor, pajarito…” I plead with him, hoarse and bound in delicious agonizing need.
Yearning for what I never knew I could have, what I wasn’t expecting when I began toying with him, thwarting his attempt at revenge.
What I never knew I needed until he left me alone in my club. Sweaty and panting with an ache in my groin.
Desolate, because he’d flown away, taking all the vibrant colors with him. Leaving me with nothing but blank ivory white.
“Feed me your hate, beautiful,” I whisper, pushing his legs apart.
“Fuck me… No,” he rasps, still stiff, though he’s not stopping me. Not killing me.
Just like the last time. Because he feels this too, I know he does.
There would be no denying it. It’s visceral.
“A little bit of pleasure to ease the pain,” I croon, hands running, treasuring, up his calves, over his knees, leaving streaks of my blood on his creamy flesh. I shove them apart wider until he gasps. “Remember how good it felt, sweet love… when I kissed you here?”
My hand creeps between his thighs, and he nods timidly, lashes fanning. The mound in his throat dipping.
“You’ve wanted it just as badly, haven’t you…?” My fingers gradually lift his dress. “This part… You want hot, slick and hungry just as badly as you want to carve my heart out, si, babydoll?”
“S-si… mmff, por que…” He’s writhing, and I’m about to burst through the front of my slacks. “Fucking pendejo…”
I chuckle, low and throaty, massaging his firm thighs. “Buen chica…”
“Umffuck,” he cries softly, arching.
My eyes are on the knife still in his grasp. “Do it, pajarito… I know you can, baby.”
“S-stop,” he whines and squirms. “Shut… up. Uhh, Diablo… más.”
Trailing kisses up his inner thighs, I reach under his dress, plucking the material of his panties. “You should, sweet Angelito… You should definitely kill me.”
“Lo sé…” His hips lift when I get them down a little. Then a little more. “Fuck, I know, but… Jesus, it feels… too good.”
A devilish grin graces my lips. All I’ve wanted is this.
I’ve imagined it every day for almost five years. I’ve pictured this, dreamt about it. Seen it in every shallow interaction since that first and only night.
“Tu quieres mi boca?” I ask him softly if he wants my mouth, and I know he does, because his hips are lifting. Climbing higher, seeking out my taunting and toying. Closer and closer to that big, sweet cock, attempting to burst free from his lace.
“Si, Papi… por favor.”
God, those words, from those lips, that body, my Angel… I lose all semblance of control.
He is mine.
All mine. Only mine.
I’ve earned him. He is my reward.
My pajarito is coming undone for my praise while I kiss and nuzzle my face between his legs. Losing myself in teasing him with the soothe to his ache when all he thinks he wants is to end my life.
“God, I’ve missed you, little bird…” I groan, running my lips the length of him until his hips buck and I chuckle wickedly.
Mine.
You will be mine, Angel Alvarez.
In one quick motion, I crawl over him, trapping him beneath me on the bed, pinning his wrists at his sides. Gazing up at me, he doesn’t appear angry with himself like the last time he succumbed to me. His green eyes are loathing of this truth, yes. But more than anything, he appears mesmerized.
Every desperate bit as confounded as I am.
That’s my cue to destroy him again.
Snatching his father’s knife from his hand, I press the blade to his throat, softly enough, though he still grunts. His Adam’s apple bobs and he exhales a quivering breath that pumps even more blood between my legs.
I press it into his, and he purrs.
“I’m not letting you fly away this time, pajarito…” I whisper.
And then I drop my mouth to his.
Oh… Fuck. Yes…
Yes yes yes… Dios mio…
“Oh God, kiss me, Angel…” I growl, feeding him my tongue.
“Kiss me deeper, Diablo,” he mewls, grinding himself beneath me, opening and melting.
“Fuck, baby, so good…” I groan, releasing his wrists to wrap my hand around his throat.
He stiffens in panic, but doesn’t fight when he feels the knife pressed into his side.
I keep kissing him while squeezing his pressure point, blocking him from breathing. His lips stop kissing me back while he jerks and struggles, losing oxygen, but it’s too late.
He’s already mine.
I squeeze just enough for him to pass out, then I pull my hand away.
Kissing his pillowy lips a few more times while he’s unconscious, I’m basking in it. The fact that I have him.
Finally, I have him again.
He’s mine. For good, this time.
“Mmm… sweet little bird,” I hum breathlessly. “I knew you’d come back to me..” Sitting back with a breath, I comb fingers through my hair. Gazing down at his beauty. “Now… let’s get you into your cage, shall we?”