4. We’d Let The World Burn For You
4
WE’D LET THE WORLD BURN FOR YOU
~ZANDER~
T he way she moves drives me fucking mad.
Eva is above me, her body riding mine with a rhythm that speaks of ownership. Like she knows she’s my weakness, my downfall, my salvation, all wrapped in the most intoxicating package.
My hands grip her hips, fingers digging into the supple flesh as I watch her — just watch her — soaking in the sight of my queen in the morning light.
The sun is just cresting over the horizon, spilling golden rays over her flushed skin.
Her hair, damp with sweat, clings to her temples, wild strands catching in the soft morning breeze from the open balcony doors.
My cock throbs inside her, desperate for release, but I hold it back, resisting, denying myself the relief because the sight of her like this is a torment I’d endure a thousand times over.
The bandages wrapped around her wound stand as a stark contrast to her perfection, a cruel reminder of how close I came to losing her. How yesterday, she was barely breathing.
How my world nearly ended in a moment of blood and silence. I don't want to think about it, but the rage creeps in anyway, blackening the edges of my pleasure. My jaw tightens, and before I can stop myself, I sit up sharply, my arm hooking around her neck, pulling her down into a bruising kiss.
She flinches at the sudden movement, but she doesn’t stop. She never stops. My Eva. The storm that never bows to the wind. If anything, her body tightens around me, her fingers tangling in my hair as she moans into my mouth.
“You’re gonna make me fill you up, Eva?” I taunt against her lips, my voice a low growl, needing to hear her say it.
Needing to hear her surrender to this, to me.
She nods frantically, her breath hitching between high-pitched moans that send fire licking down my spine. “Mhmm!”
I smirk against her lips but don’t move, don’t give her what she needs.
“Words, baby. Words.” My hands shift to her waist, holding her still as she whimpers in protest. “Say it, and I’ll make sure you cum so fucking good.”
Her nails bite into my shoulders, her body trembling, slick with sweat and desperation.
“Yes,” she pants breathlessly. “Zander, please,” she gasps, her voice raw with need. “I need you. I need you to fill me up, please.”
Fuck, I’m too madly in love with her…
That’s all it takes for me to give her exactly what she deserves.
My grip tightens as I thrust up into her, hard and deep, pulling a broken cry from her lips.
“That’s my good girl,” I praise, my voice wrecked with restraint. “Take it, Eva. Take all of me.”
Her eyes roll back as she rides me faster, her movements frantic, chasing her high as my control slips further.
I won’t last. Not with her clenching around me like a vice, her heat pulling me deeper into madness. The coil in my stomach tightens, my vision hazing over with white-hot pleasure.
Fucking hell…
I feel her body seize, her orgasm crashing into her with a force that has her crying out my name like a prayer, as a fucking hymn to a god she knows will answer. Her walls convulse around me, milking me, dragging me to the edge until I can’t fight it any longer.
With a ragged curse, I bury myself deep, my release exploding inside her, claiming her, branding her as mine in the only way that ever feels like enough.
My arms lock around her, crushing her to my chest as we fall apart together, our bodies trembling in the aftermath.
Minutes pass — maybe more — but I don’t let go.
I can’t.
Not when the ghost of almost losing her still lingers, a cold specter in the heat of our bodies. My fingers trace the bandage at her side, my breath unsteady as I press a lingering kiss to her temple.
It should be easy to zone shit out. To remind myself that she was okay and survived the turmoil that plagued her. To end her. But no matter how many times I tell myself this, I can’t dare let it go.
Not when that bastard is still out there.
“I can’t lose you again, Eva,” I murmur against her damp skin, the confession slipping past my lips before I can stop it. Maybe I need to say it out loud to emphasize the truth and those words. To convince myself that I won’t allow such a close call to come to fruition. “I won’t survive it.”
That’s the problem.
It clicks in because I know this situation will happen again.
This cycle will continue until we’re crowned the victors of this rise to power.
Until we solidify our roles as Ruthless Kings, with her sitting on her rightful throne as Ruthless Queen, this constant closeness will keep on going.
Until it claims what’s so vitally precious to us.
She exhales shakily, her fingers tracing idle patterns against my chest.
“You won’t lose me,” she whispers. “I’m right here.”
I close my eyes, inhaling her scent, letting her words settle deep in my bones. But the rage simmers beneath the surface, the need for vengeance a living, breathing entity inside me.
If I had lost her, I would’ve burned the world to the ground.
That’s the thing. I’m very tempted to keep my word, for I’m not waiting until she’s out of my grasp to set this world ablaze.
I run my hand through Eva's hair, the silver strands significantly shorter than I'm used to but still silky between my fingers.
We relax onto the bed, her body a welcome weight against my chest, both of us breathing in the aftermath of our connection. I'm reluctant to separate from her, to break this moment of perfect unity where she's safe, whole, and completely mine.
The morning light streams through the balcony doors, painting her skin with golden hues that make her look almost ethereal. My fingers trace idle patterns on her back, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing gradually slowing as exhaustion begins to claim her.
"Are you in pain?" I whisper, ghosting my fingers near the bandage on her side, careful not to apply pressure to the healing wound.
She shifts slightly against me, a soft hum escaping her lips.
"Probably won't feel it until I wake up from a nap," she murmurs, her voice drowsy and content. "But for now, I just feel like jelly and exhaustion."
A smirk tugs at my lips as I continue running my hand through her short locks, feeling the silky strands slip between my fingers.
"Your hair is growing already," I observe, twisting a strand gently.
"Hmm," is all she manages in response, clearly drifting toward sleep, her body growing heavier against mine as tension melts away.
I allow her this moment of silence, this rare slice of peace in our chaotic existence. Her breathing deepens, each exhale warm against my chest as she surrenders to exhaustion. The weight of her in my arms feels right — necessary — after how close I came to losing her forever.
A sigh escapes me as I stare at the ceiling, the quiet of the room suddenly feeling too deliberate.
My senses, always hyperaware, pick up on the subtle shift in energy that suggests we're not as alone as we appear.
"Are you gonna keep watching from the corner," I say to the seemingly empty room, my voice pitched low enough not to disturb Eva, "or are you planning to join the conversation?"
A low chuckle radiates from the shadows, followed by measured footsteps that encourage me to turn my head to the left.
Ren emerges from the darkened corner of the room, his usual playboy smirk firmly in place despite the exhaustion evident in the lines around his eyes.
"How long have you known I was here?" he asks, leaning against the wall with practiced casualness that doesn't quite mask the tension in his shoulders.
"Since we came back from the balcony," I reply, carefully adjusting Eva's sleeping form against me to ensure her comfort. Her wound is still healing, and the last thing I want is to cause her any additional pain, even unconsciously.
Ren pouts, looking dissatisfied with my admission.
"And you didn't say anything?"
"Your cologne gave you away," I explain, my lips quirking into a knowing smirk. "You're using a different scent than usual."
He sighs, running a hand through his teal-streaked hair.
"Changed it because I haven't had time to wash up properly with everything going on." The admission carries echoes of the chaos we've all been navigating since Eva's near-death experience — the frantic search, the desperate measures, and the collective breath holding as we waited to see if she'd survive.
I frown, arching an eyebrow in his direction as I process the implications of his words.
There's more he isn't saying — something in his expression that speaks of developments I haven't been briefed on during my self-imposed exile with Eva.
Ren catches my evaluating gaze and sighs heavily, shoulders slumping slightly.
"Do you want to talk about it now or later?"
My arms tighten fractionally around Eva's sleeping form, protective instinct flaring at the idea of potential new threats. "If I ask now, is it going to change the situation?"
"No," he admits, his usual playful demeanor dimming further as his eyes drift to Eva's bandaged side.
"Then we can talk about it after," I conclude, my voice carrying finality that brooks no argument.
My fingers continue their gentle exploration of Eva's shortened hair, taking comfort in the simple proof of her continued existence.
"I'm not mentally ready to tackle whatever the fuck is unfolding far too quickly for us to apprehend."
A ghost of Ren's usual smile returns as he pushes off from the wall, approaching the bed with quiet steps.
"It's been rough, hasn't it?"
The simple acknowledgment carries the weight of everything we've endured—the frantic search when Eva disappeared, the terror upon finding her bleeding out in those woods, the desperate race against time to neutralize the poison flooding her system.
"You should have told us where you were taking her," Ren says after a moment, his voice lacking its usual teasing quality. There's something raw in his tone — something wounded that goes beyond mere annoyance at being kept in the dark.
I meet his gaze steadily, unapologetic despite understanding his pain. Yes, it was a selfish move, but truthfully, I don’t give a fuck.
Ares probably would have figured it out first but would need help locating me because he’s not good at finding people's locations like some sort of spy.
Aries is his best bet to help him in that department.
I have a hunch Marcus already knows where I am, but he would be a team player and wait it out until the others noticed.
Now that Ren is here, it’s obvious he’s an act now and think of the consequences later type of man, which frankly, I can’t be mad about.
He doesn’t waste time.
That’s a quality very few in our world can consistently maintain because most are cowards wearing sheep skin.
"Would you have done any differently in my position?"
His silence is answer enough.
"The fewer people who knew our location, the safer she was," I continue, my voice dropping even lower as Eva shifts slightly in her sleep. I pause, waiting until her breathing evens out again before adding, "I wasn't taking chances. Not after how close we came to losing her."
Ren moves closer, settling into an armchair near the bed with a grace that belies his exhaustion.
"Who do you think is gonna get here next?" Ren questions, his eyes drifting to the window as if expecting to see the others already approaching across the pristine beach.
"Marcus," I reply without hesitation, my fingers still absently tracing patterns through Eva's shortened silver hair.
The certainty in my voice isn't just speculation—it's knowledge based on years of observing our Kings, understanding their patterns and priorities.
"This is the same guy who was able to stalk Eva during class and figured out she'd been poisoned before saving her life. I don't know why he didn't decide to work in secret ops, but then again, he's obviously more obsessed with medicine development."
My voice takes on a grimmer tone as I add.
"Which is needed, I guess, when we're looking at the spring of marked disease going on thanks to the Blinded One."
Simply saying the man's title feels like spitting venom, each syllable coated in hatred that's been building since I found Eva bleeding out in those woods. The memory makes my arms tighten fractionally around her sleeping form, a subconscious need to reassure myself that she's still here, still breathing, still mine to protect.
Ren sighs, rubbing a hand across his face in a rare display of genuine frustration.
"I'm using all the resources I have access to with my father's privileges, and yet it's so hard to get anything on the Blinded One."
A low, humorless chuckle escapes me.
"Of course there isn't shit about him. He wants to remain a ghost, and he shall unless someone can outsmart the dead."
Ren's brow furrows, an expression flickering across his features that immediately catches my attention. It's the look he gets when pieces are connecting in that brilliant mind of his—the one he tries so hard to hide beneath his carefully cultivated playboy facade.
"What?" I prompt, studying the intensity gathering in his gaze.
"I didn't think about that," he says slowly, each word measured as his thoughts continue racing ahead. "He's called the Blinded One. He doesn't wish to be noticed. Seen, but sympathized due to the obvious display of a blindfold that projects he lacks vision." His fingers drum against the armrest, a nervous habit he rarely displays. "To make him undetectable because he should be incapable of hurting a fly."
Understanding dawns as I follow his thinking process, the implications unfurling like a map of previously unexplored territory.
"Meaning we're not checking who he may have once been."
"Exactly." Ren leans forward, the tiredness in his expression giving way to the sharp intelligence that makes him such a formidable King despite his carefully crafted public image. "What we should have been doing is finding who wished to disappear. To remain 'dead.' Someone who's now on a rampage of payback with an identity that's buried six feet under."
The theory settles between us, its weight almost tangible in the sun-drenched bedroom. It's such an obvious angle that we've all overlooked it — searching for a ghost when we should have been examining graves. Looking for a man defined by blindness when we should have been investigating those who chose to vanish from sight.
We sit in silence for several moments, each processing the implications of this shift in perspective.
The gentle sound of waves breaking against the shore outside provides a peaceful counterpoint to the darkness of our thoughts, to the violence we're both silently planning against the man who dared try to take our Queen.
Eventually, Ren sighs, stretching his arms above his head with a calculated casualness that doesn't quite mask the tension still lingering in his frame.
"I want to shower." The statement comes out almost petulant, a deliberate shift toward more mundane concerns.
"Why don't you just go?" I counter, arching an eyebrow at his unnecessary announcement.
He grumbles, slumping further into the armchair.
"I'm tired."
A low chuckle escapes me as I see through his transparent excuse.
"That's bullshit because I know you ain't tired in the slightest." My eyes deliberately drop to the obvious strain against his pants, evidence of just how affected he was by watching Eva and me earlier. "Not with that boner pressing against your pants still."
Ren huffs, lifting his head enough to glance down at his groin, as if he hadn't realized how turned on he still was.
"You could have just been a nice friend and taken care of it," he mutters, though the heat in his gaze suggests he's not entirely joking.
"I don't mind being friends since it's obvious we're sharing Dolcezza from now on," I reply, my tone deliberately casual despite the significance of the admission. "But I doubt you're into that, are you?"
The question hangs between us, weighted with possibilities neither of us has openly acknowledged before.
The dynamic between our Kings has always carried undercurrents too complex for simple definition—competition and alliance, rivalry and brotherhood, all existing simultaneously in our collective devotion to Eva.
Ren doesn't answer immediately, his usual quick responses failing him as he actually considers the question.
"It's not like I'm not into it," he admits finally, his voice carrying unexpected honesty. "I just never met a group of men that made me react in such a way."
The confession catches me slightly off guard, though I don't let it show in my expression.
"I didn't expect you to actually admit it," I counter, studying his face for any sign of deception or discomfort. "Especially when your father is in the force and is probably some egotistic bastard who hates people that bend because he raised you straight."
A bitter laugh escapes him, genuine emotion bleeding through his carefully maintained facade.
"I stopped caring about what my father thought, especially in the realms of sexuality, long time ago." His expression hardens slightly, revealing glimpses of the steel beneath his charming exterior. "This system is a tainted bitch and will rip you to shreds whether you like pussy or cock, so who the fuck cares?"
"Agreed," I concede, impressed despite myself at his bluntness. My lips curl into a knowing smirk as I add, "I already knew you bend, cause I saw the footage of you, Matteo, and Sweet Dynamite during your ‘initiation’. Amazing content to masturbate to."
Ren's expression shifts to one of genuine surprise before he mutters.
"I figured scrubbing it wasn't going to do shit."
Another low chuckle escapes me at his disgruntled expression.
"Nah, you did good with scrubbing the evidence." I pause deliberately, letting the moment stretch before adding, "You just gotta be faster."
"I hate you," he groans, running a hand through his teal-streaked hair in frustration.
"Sure you do," I counter smoothly, "but you can get in line cause a lot of fuckers hate the Benedicts." My arms tighten fractionally around Eva's sleeping form, pride evident in my tone as I add, "But here I am, with the love of my life, thriving."
Ren rolls his eyes but sighs, forcing his limbs to work as he rises from the armchair with fluid grace that belies his claimed exhaustion. He crosses the room with measured steps, pausing at the bathroom door before glancing back over his shoulder.
"You gonna join?" The question emerges casual yet charged with unspoken implications.
I smirk, looking down at Eva's sleeping face before returning my gaze to Ren.
"If I can get Eva awake to join, yes."
Ren looks over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow in obvious skepticism.
"She's an injured queen. We shouldn't make it worse."
A laugh escapes me at his sudden concern.
"Bullshit. You can multitask and be gentle when it comes to her, so cut the crap." My eyes deliberately trail down his body, noting the evidence of his lingering arousal. "You're horny as fuck and need to be balls deep so you can think straight before the others arrive, so we're gonna take a nice group shower, and whatever happens, happens. Besides, she’d kill me with Knifey if I dare left her out of the idea of being sandwiched between two of her Ruthless Kings.
He pouts at the idea of disappointing Eva, making him sigh in defeat.
"I've never been so spontaneous," Ren comments, though the heat in his gaze betrays his interest despite his feigned reluctance.
"You've always been spontaneous," I counter with a knowing smirk, "but maybe you've never been as easygoing about enjoying a threesome with another guy in the mix who doesn't mind some tongue play."
A blush creeps across Ren's cheeks—an unusual sight on our normally unflappable King.
"Whatever," he mutters, looking away to hide his reaction. "Hurry up because this is our last moment to enjoy all the bliss before shit goes down."
"I count on that," I assure him, nodding toward the bathroom. "I'll be joining in a moment."
As he disappears into the bathroom, I look down at Eva, still peaceful in sleep against my chest. Despite the danger lurking on our horizon, despite the war brewing in our absence, I can't help the grim smile that curves my lips.
"We're entering a dangerous game, Sweet Dynamite," I whisper to her sleeping form, already calculating possibilities and strategies for the battles to come.
Already planning the destruction we'll rain down on those who dared try to take her from us.
Because they chose the wrong Queen to target.
The wrong Kings to underestimate.
And when we return from this temporary sanctuary, the world will learn exactly what happens when you threaten something the Ruthless Kings of Obsession consider theirs.