Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
DOMINO
T he city reeked of filth. The neon overhead flickered, casting jagged shadows along the cracked sidewalk. The stench of piss and sweat clung to the alley walls, thick and suffocating. My hands flexed at my sides, curling into fists, itching to hurt. To break something.
To break him .
My father had pissed me off today. That long, drawn-out meeting. The usual cryptic bullshit. Speaking in riddles, dodging my questions, testing my patience as if I didn’t already know he was a liar. But that wasn’t what was shredding me apart from the inside. That wasn’t the thing feeding the monster inside me, making my skin feel too tight, my vision narrow.
No. That rage had a name. Kyran-fucking-Stirling.
The moment I left the DeMarco compound, I headed straight to Deveraux—only to see Kyran sliding into the back of my car after my Remi. That smug fucking smile on his face, those greedy fucking eyes trailing lower, locking onto Remi’s ass like he had any fucking right looking at what belonged to me.
The world snapped, and everything went dark. Everything else—the city, the noise, the fucking oxygen in my lungs—ceased to exist.
I don’t remember following them into the city. I barely registered the turns as I trailed them to Nocturne, one of my clubs, but I must have because here I was, lurking in the shadows.
Outside my club. In my fucking territory.
The line stretched down the block, bodies packed tight, the bass throbbing into the streets. Nocturne was legitimate—on paper. A luxury escape for those looking to indulge. But in the shadows? It was a kingdom of secrets. Private rooms, bodies bought by the hour, whispers captured by hidden cameras. Ghost made sure we had eyes on everything. And everyone.
Including him. Kyran Stirling was flagged in every DeMarco establishment. The second he stepped inside, I would know.
Remi, though…Remi was untouchable. Didn’t matter if he followed a dress code or not. Didn’t matter if he walked through the front door barefoot and bleeding—he could go anywhere.
My phone buzzed. I didn’t need to check to know it was Antonio. Across the street, he caught my eye, gave a nod, then slipped inside.
And still—I watched. Kyran had his arm on him. Holding him close. Leaning in, whispering something in his ear that made Remi laugh under the purple UV glow of the Nocturne sign.
Laughter. My fingers twitched. My pulse slowed. Over my dead fucking body.
The images hit hard and fast—Kyran on his knees, his arms bent at grotesque angles, mouth opening in a silent scream as I carved that smug fucking smirk from his face. I had already let him breathe once today. A mercy. A mistake.
I wouldn’t make it again. I cracked my knuckles and rolled my neck, my monster gnashing its teeth against my restraint. Soon.
I lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled slowly, my body thrumming with anticipation as I watched.
Remi moved. Stepped back.
My body went tight, muscles coiled, a loaded trigger, seconds from snapping—I could be by his side in a heartbeat. Could rip Kyran’s arm from its socket before he even realized I was there. Could drive my knee into his back, pin him to the ground, press my blade to his throat, and let him feel what a mistake it was to touch what was mine.
But then Kyran laughed, raised his hands. Remi shook his head, turned on his heel, and walked away.
Good.
I forced myself to stay still. To breathe. Kyran had just saved himself—for now. I pulled out my phone. It barely rang once.
“Boss?” Juno answered.
“Where the fuck are you?” I asked, voice low, edged with death.
“I’m with?—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
A pause. A sharp inhale. A sound too close to a whimper.
“H-he said he’d be okay?—”
Wrong answer.
“Your orders were to take him to Deveraux and then straight back to my apartment. Where in that instruction did I say to let him wander off with Kyran Stirling and go to Nocturne?”
Silence. Not because he wasn’t there—because he was terrified.
I let it stretch. Let him feel the weight of his mistake press against him, let him imagine what would happen. The inevitability of what came next.
“I’ll give you one more job. Find Remi. Bring him to me.” I ended the call. Exhaled a slow, smoky breath.
An hour later, Kyran stumbled out of the club, swaying as he clutched his gut, bracing himself at the mouth of the alley. Pathetic . A silver-spoon prince who couldn’t even hold his liquor.
Had no idea I was watching. Had no idea what was waiting for him in the dark.
“Kyran,” I whispered, the sound slithering through the alley, curling around him like smoke.
The walls caught my voice and bounced it back, making it come from everywhere. His breath hitched, disoriented. He turned in slow, jerky movements, peering into the dark.
“Wh-who’s there?” His voice shook. “What—what do you want?”
I smiled into the night, already able to taste his blood. The hunger inside me was begging to be fed. It wouldn’t be satisfied until I was drenched in crimson, until the metallic sting of it saturated the air.
“Just a chat,” I said, voice soft, almost inviting. A predator luring its prey.
He hesitated. Smart. But not smart enough. I took a step forward, just enough for the dim glow of the streetlamp to catch the steel of my rings. Kyran stiffened.
“I’d hate for you to misunderstand me,” I murmured. “So I’ll make this simple.”
He swallowed hard. Then, to my amusement, he took a step toward me. Another. And another. The moment my face caught the light, his body jerked like a puppet with cut strings. His pupils flared with recognition, then pure, primal fear as he spun on his heel and bolted. Pathetic.
I caught him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him back. He slammed into the brick wall with a sickening crack. His head bounced off the surface, dazed, breath stuttering in his lungs.
The first punch split his lip, crimson blooming in thick beads. The second cracked a rib. I felt it give under my knuckles with a satisfying crunch. Kyran gasped, blood dripping down his chin as he spat a mouthful onto the concrete.
I tilted my head. “Don’t touch what’s mine.”
“I—I don’t—” His voice warbled, dazed.
He really was as dumb as those sun-kissed locks made him look.
“You can’t be that inept,” I sneered.
His lip trembled. His eyes darted frantically around the alley, looking for help, looking for a way out. There was none.
Not tonight.
“R-Remi—” he wheezed, chest rising and falling too fast. “He’s just my friend?—”
Wrong answer.
My next punch connected with his cheekbone. His head snapped sideways, crashing into the wall. I wrenched him forward and drove my fist into his stomach. Hard. The wind rushed out of him in a choked gasp. His body folded like wet paper.
I leaned in, voice lethal, intimate. “I don’t give a fuck what you think you are to him.” I let the words sink into his pain, sharp and precise as a blade. “If you so much as look at him again, I’ll make sure you never see anything at all.”
His breath hitched, wet and gurgling. He nodded weakly. I let him drop to the damp ground. He curled onto his side, whimpering, a pathetic, shaking heap at my feet.
It should have been enough. It wasn’t. I brought my boot down into his ribs. Once. Twice. Again. He coughed blood, arms braced over his head, trying to protect himself. Useless.
The distant purr of my car joined the melody of his pain-filled cries, mournful whimpers, and the brittle crunch of shattered bone. I spit on him, then melted into the shadows.
I leaned against the damp wall, lit a cigarette, inhaled slowly as the thick smoke filled my lungs, and waited. Waited for my little lamb to step into the wolf’s den.
Would he run?
Would he scream?
Or would he surprise me?
Would he prove what I already knew? That he was fascinated by death. By power. By the beauty of life as it hung in the balance. That he was, at his core, just like me.
I was certain I’d seen it in his eyes, an ember of dark fire that lusted to know what it felt like to take a life. If he showed that curiosity tonight, I’d lead him down the darkest path known to man. I’d grant all his illicit fantasies. I’d set him free of the oppressive chains that were wrapped around him. Allow him to free his dark heart and embrace all he could become.
Footsteps echoed through the alley. I braced against the wall; sweet euphoria coursed through my veins, heightening my senses as I counted down in my head.
Three.
Two.
One.
Remi stopped just inside the entrance, head tilted, scenting the air like an animal. His breathing was uneven. Lips parted. Eyes dark but not with fear—with fascination. He took a step closer. Gaze flicking between the shadows—me—and the barely conscious body across from me. Could he sense my presence like I could his?
I waited for the horror. The recoil. A scream. The inevitable, “Why would you do this?” But none of it came. The longer he stood there, the more confident I grew. Smoke curled around my lips as I exhaled, excitement heating the blood in my veins for an entirely different reason.
He stepped closer to where Kyran lay in a whimpering heap, his bloodied face turned toward Remi, filthy hand reaching for him. I bit back a snarl. He didn’t get to touch what was mine. To my surprise, Remi recoiled from his touch.
Instead, he shivered. His fingers twitched at his sides. His breath came in short, sharp pants. Excited.
I stepped toward him, slow, deliberate. Testing. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” My voice was almost gentle.
He should be. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. He shook his head. “Never.”
“Good.”
I closed the remaining space between us, chest pressing flush against his back. My hands slid down his chest, fingers gripping his hips, holding him there, against me. Letting him feel just how much this—he—affected me, as I nestled my hardness against his crease.
Remi’s breath hitched. He looked down at my blood stained knuckles, lifted my hand, turned it over in the light, and studied the torn skin with something close to reverence.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, a delicate finger tracing my tattoos.
A sharp heat coiled in my stomach. He turned slowly, gaze smoldering over his shoulder as he looked up at me. Lips inches from mine. “Why?” The word was barely a breath.
I didn’t need to ask what he meant. I already knew. My pulse pounded against my ribs. I knew—right then and there—that I would never let him go. That if he tried to run, I would chain him to my bed and break him. Make him love it, crave it. He was mine in this life and each one that followed. Because I owned his soul, he just didn’t know it yet.
Mine. Forever.
“Because he touched you.”
Remi snorted, turning his gaze to Kyran’s crumpled form, but I wasn’t done.
I leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice dropping into something dark, intimate. Claiming. “He wanted what’s mine.”
A full-body shudder wracked through him at my possessive tone. But instead of running—instead of doing what any sane person should—he leaned into me. His ass pressed against my aching cock. Fuck.
My already-thin control snapped. My blood-stained hand wrapped around his throat, not too tight—not yet—as I spun him around and pinned him against the wall, right by Kyran’s trembling body.
“It seems we keep ending up like this, piccolo agnello .”
My lips ghosted over his. Teasing, testing. The cold press of his snake bites sent a sharp spike of need straight through me. I flicked my tongue over them, savoring the contrast of steel against heat.
Remi’s exhale ghosted over my lips.
He wasn’t afraid.
Not of me. Not of what I’d done.
The fire in those ice-blue eyes burned through me, raking over my face, mapping out the splatters of blood like he wanted to memorize them. His gaze flicked to my lips, then back to my eyes, dark and hungry.
“I—I…” He licked his lips.
Fuck.
My head tilted, taking him in. Furrowed brows, skin dewy with sweat, pulse hammering against my thumb as I kept my grip on his throat. His chest rose and fell too fast. His pupils swallowed the blue.
“Are you innocent, piccolo agnello ?”
A single breath—hesitation. “I…” Remi shook his head, lashes fluttering closed, as he sucked in air like he was trying to hold on. “I don’t want to be.”
His voice was hoarse, nearly a whimper. When his eyes fluttered back open, I felt it. That moment—right there. His surrender. The shift in him whispered that he wasn’t fighting it anymore.
He was mine.
I dragged my free hand up his chest, slow and teasing, until my fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair. I twisted them around my knuckles and yanked, angling his head up, forcing him to look at me. I kicked his legs apart, sliding a knee between them until I could feel his hardness against my thigh, eradicating any space between us.
His full lips parted. Begging.
“Ever been kissed?” I murmured.
“N-no…b-but I want to kiss you.”
Little lamb, you could tempt a saint to sin with those five magic words. I crushed my mouth to his, claiming. Electricity snapped between us, setting my nerves on fire as my tongue thrust into the heat of his mouth. Tasting. Owning. Devouring.
Remi moaned against me, hands fisting in my shirt like he couldn’t bear the thought of space between us. His tongue lashed against mine, rolling, teasing, and fuck—that tongue bar sent a spike of raw pleasure through me.
My little lamb had a bite. I growled against his lips, deepening the kiss, taking him apart inch by inch.
His hips rolled against my thigh, desperate for friction, seeking something he didn’t quite know how to ask for.
Not yet. But he would.
I caught his bottom lip between my teeth and tugged, making him whimper. His eyes—fucking wrecked. I released my grip on his throat and licked down the slender column of his neck, burying my face against his sweat-slicked skin. I inhaled him, dark moss and salt, intoxicating. He was too tempting not to taste, my teeth sunk into the delicate skin and I sucked hard, Remi moaned long and low. I sucked until copper coated my tongue, the sweet metallic taste utterly divine.
“P-please,” he whimpered.
His hands roamed my back, restless, needy, wild. Oh, how I’d enjoy breaking my innocent little lamb. Corrupting him. Teaching him all the deliciously filthy ways he could worship me. I wrenched my mouth from his delicious skin and pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him back just enough to see the need that flickered behind those ice-blue eyes.
“On your knees.”
Remi dropped instantly. No hesitation. My cock throbbed at the sight of him looking up at me, wide-eyed, submissive. Intoxicating. Lips swollen from my kiss, chest rising and falling too fast, his thighs trembling.
I cupped his face, thumb stroking his cheek. “Open your mouth, piccolo agnello . Tongue out.”
His lips parted. His tongue flicked out, eager. Waiting.
I smirked, running my fingers through his hair. “Undo my belt.”
His shaky fingers fumbled once before the leather fell apart at my waist.
“Now, pull down my zipper. Take my cock out.”
Remi swallowed and licked his lips, his throat working around his nerves, but his hands moved without hesitation as he pulled my jeans and boxers down. The moment my cock sprang free, he stared. Devoured me. Like a starving man offered his first taste of real sin.
I wrapped a fist around my length, pumping once, twice, working a bead of precum to the tip. I reached down, brushing it against his lips. Marking him.
Remi’s breath stuttered. He licked his lips, tasting me, moaning.
A growl rumbled in my chest. “Eyes on me.”
He nodded.
“All the time.” I brushed my thumb over his swollen bottom lip. “You break contact—I stop.”
Another nod. His hands found my thighs, gripping them tightly, holding on. He’d need to for what I had planned.
I pressed my cock to the tip of his tongue. “Lick the tip. Taste me.”
His tongue flicked out, slow, teasing. He moaned at the salty taste of me, then he dipped the tip into my slit like he was chasing more. Sharp pleasure shot through me, straight to my balls.
I gritted my teeth. “Stop.”
He froze, sitting back on his heels, panting. I stepped forward, framing his face with my hands as my cock settled on his tongue.
“Good boy.”
I stroked his cheek, tilting his head, before rolling my hips forward, just a little. His lips stretched around me accommodating, my girth as I pushed down his tongue. That tongue bar gliding over a pulsing vein on the underside of my dick made my whole body burn with need . Fuck. Spit slicked my length as I pulled back, then thrust again, deeper this time.
Remi gagged as I hit the back of his throat. “That’s nearly all of me , piccolo agnello , only a couple more inches.”
Tears welled in his eyes. Beautiful. I pulled all the way back, letting just the tip rest on his tongue, then locked eyes with him.
“Relax your throat,” I murmured. “Breathe through your nose. Inhale when I pull back.”
His fingers trembled on my thighs, but he nodded. I smirked, running my fingers through his damp hair, gripping tight.
“I can’t wait to see your tears.”
His breath hitched, but he kept his mouth open. I thrust forward, deep and hard, down his throat. He choked around me, gagging, but didn’t pull away. Didn’t stop.
I pulled back, just enough for him to gasp in air, then slammed back in. A broken sob left his lips. Spit and precum coated his chin, dripping down his neck.
And still—his eyes never left mine. “You cry so beautifully for me, baby.”
The tight, wet heat of his mouth gripped me as I pulled out and thrust back in, the rhythm harsh and punishing. Tears streamed down his pale cheeks.
Swallow. Take it. Be Mine.
The rougher I got, the more he wanted it. The more I took, the more he gave.
My cock slammed down his throat in brutal, unrelenting thrusts, giving him no room to breathe. But instead of pulling back, instead of clawing at me in desperation—Remi groaned.
The sound reverberated through me, a deep, wrecked moan that sent shocks of pleasure down my length, straight to my tightening balls. The sight of him—lips stretched wide, drool slicking his skin, eyes glassy with submission—burned itself into my fucking soul.
I couldn’t stop.
Didn’t want to.
I fucked his throat like it was the last thing I’d ever do. Like I could carve myself into him, make him remember this—remember me—with every raw, bruising thrust.
Every nerve ending in my body lit up, fire racing through my veins. My grip in his hair tightened, locking him in place, forcing him to take all of me.
“Fuck, Remi,” I growled.
His lashes fluttered, breath stuttering, spit dripping from his swollen lips, but those blue eyes stayed locked on mine. Drunk on me. Wrecked for me.
Perfect.
My cock thickened, pleasure cresting, that final, devastating wave about to hit. “I’m going to come,” I snarled, my fingers digging into his scalp. “And you’re going to swallow. Every. Last. Drop.”
A wrecked whimper vibrated against my length, and fuck—I couldn’t hold back. With a final thrust, I buried myself deep, his nose pressed to my groin, his throat spasming around me as I held him there.
A strangled sob left him. Tears stained his cheeks. That perfect image broke me. Cum erupted from me, thick and hot, lashing against his raw throat in relentless pulses. His muscles clenched, milking every drop from my aching cock.
But he didn’t just take it. He drank me down. Sucked every drop, every last bit of me into him with long, hard pulls that had me shuddering, nearly collapsing.
His tongue flicked over the head of my oversensitive cock as I slipped from his wrecked, swollen lips.
Breathless. Ruined. Mine.
I cupped his jaw, thumb running over the flushed, tear-streaked skin. “You’re fucking mine now, Remi.”
He blinked once. That tongue. He flicked it out, slow, deliberate, licking the stray drops of my cum from his lips.
My cock twitched.
A smirk curled at the edges of his mouth, voice raw, wrecked—“Yours.”