CHAPTER 22 #2
I was a ghost. I died in that office.
The SUV rolled into the private underground garage of the penthouse.
The heavy steel door rolled down behind us with a final, echoing boom.
Leon cut the lights and killed the engine.
The smell of burnt rubber and oil hung heavy in the darkness.
The silence that followed was suffocating, filled only by the ticking of the cooling metal.
I sat frozen in the seat, the seatbelt still tight across my chest.
"We're home," Leon said. Home. The sick bastard called my prison home.
"I can't move."
"Yes, you can. Get out of the car."
We walked to the private elevator. The doors slid shut, encasing us in a box of brushed steel.
The smooth hum of the machinery vibrating under my boots made my stomach drop.
Leon stood right behind me. I could smell his cologne, feel the constant, heavy pressure of his heat.
I stared at my distorted reflection in the steel doors.
I looked at my hands. They were still stained red.
"Look at yourself," Leon murmured, his eyes locking onto mine in the reflection.
"I don't recognize her," I whispered.
"I do. I've been waiting for her for three years."
The elevator dinged. We stepped out onto the cool marble floor of the penthouse foyer. Behind us, the massive steel security bolts slid into place with a violent, mechanical clack.
"Lockdown confirmed," the automated system chimed.
That sound triggered the collapse. The last of my iron control shattered.
"Leon, I..."
"I know."
My knees finally gave out. My forehead brushed the cold, polished marble for a split second before I started to slide toward the floor. A ragged, ugly sob tore from my throat. Everything—Trenton’s betrayal, the three years undercover, the man I just killed—came crashing down on me all at once.
"Please..." I choked, grasping at nothing. "I can't... I can't do this..."
Before I hit the floor completely, Leon scooped me up.
His arms were like iron bands around my waist. He hauled me up against his chest, crushing me to him.
I didn't fight. I fisted my hands in his suit jacket, burying my face in his shoulder as my tears soaked into the expensive fabric of his lapel.
"I've got you," he said, holding my weight effortlessly.
"Don't let go."
"Never."
I breathed him in, using his sheer size and strength as an anchor. He stroked my hair with a dark, surprising tenderness. I felt the rough texture of his bruised knuckles against the back of my neck. I needed the monster. I needed his darkness to swallow mine.
"Look at me, Alessia," he demanded, his voice dropping an octave. "I'm here. You're here. You're alive."
I tilted my head back. My pupils were blown so wide they almost swallowed my irises. The trauma and adrenaline violently mutated in my system, twisting into a feral, desperate hunger. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel the guilt.
"Make me forget," I begged, my voice hoarse.
"Please, Leon."
He looked down at me with predatory hunger, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "Tell me what you want."
I initiated the contact. I ripped my hands from his jacket and shoved my fingers into his pitch-black hair, pulling his head down with desperate strength.
I crashed my mouth against his. It was a bruising, messy kiss.
My teeth clacked against his with a sharp jolt of pain that only made me more frantic.
I tasted the salt from my tears and the iron of my own split lip.
"Leon..." I gasped against his mouth. "Take me. Right now."
He groaned into my mouth, a low, guttural sound, and took complete control.
He walked me backward, his steps heavy and purposeful, until my back slammed into the drywall of the hallway.
A framed photo rattled against the wall from the impact.
He pinned me there with the weight of his body, his hands moving to my waist and squeezing hard enough to leave deep bruises.
"You’re mine, Alessia," he snarled against my neck. "Show me how much you want it."
My frantic hands tore at his clothes. I ripped his shirt open, popping the buttons.
They skittered across the marble floor like hail.
One button hit a metal vase with a sharp ping.
I needed his bare skin against mine. I needed to feel the heat radiating off his chest to drown out the memory of that cold, dead man.
"Faster," I demanded.
"Don't stop."
Leon hooked his large hands under my thighs and hoisted me up.
I wrapped my legs around his waist instantly, my nails digging deep into his back through his undershirt.
My tactical vest rubbed roughly against his chest as he carried me down the hall.
His mouth never left mine, his tongue demanding and possessive, completely taking me over.
"Wrap your legs tighter," he commanded. "That's it."
He carried me into the master bedroom and dropped me onto the center of the massive, dark bed.
I bounced slightly on the mattress, my auburn hair splaying out around my head like a halo of fire.
Leon stripped off his jacket and shoulder holster in one fluid motion.
The heavy leather hit the floor with a heavy thud.
"Stay right there."
"I'm not going anywhere," I breathed.
He systematically stripped me down. He wasn't going for grace; he went for brutal efficiency.
The sharp rip of the Velcro on my tactical vest echoed in the quiet room.
He peeled away the black utility clothing, tearing the fabric when it caught, until I was totally exposed and shivering in the dim light.
His eyes roamed over every inch of me, marking every scrape and bruise I took during the raid.
"You're a mess," he murmured.
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me. You're my mess."
He crawled over me, his heavy frame a welcome, suffocating weight.
The headboard creaked under the shift of his body.
He pinned my wrists to the mattress above my head, his large hands easily overlapping mine.
He loomed over me, his face inches from mine, his blown-out pupils staring straight into my fractured soul.
"Look at me, murderer," he whispered fiercely. "Tell me who you belong to."
The word lit a fire in my blood. He moved down my body, his touch aggressive and completely focused.
He used his mouth to drag a vocal, shattering reaction from me.
His stubble caused friction against my inner thighs, a sharp burn that made me gasp.
His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my hips, leaving white marks that would definitely turn black and blue by morning.
"Forget him," Leon growled against my skin. "Feel this instead."
I arched violently off the bed, my breath hitching as the overwhelming sensation hit me like a freight train. My toes curled deep into the dark fabric of the duvet.
"Leon! Christ, Leon!" I cried out his name, tears slipping from the corners of my eyes as my muscles tightened and snapped into a high-voltage climax.
"That's it, Alessia. Let it go."
Without giving me a single second to recover, he shifted his weight, aligned himself, and entered me with one deep, forceful thrust. My eyes flew open.
My mouth fell into a silent 'O' of absolute shock and piercing pleasure.
The rhythmic thud of the headboard against the wall started a steady, punishing beat.
"Stay here," he ordered, gripping my hips. "Right here with me."
He set a rhythm that was relentless. Every thrust was a physical reminder of the line we had just crossed together.
I met him with equal intensity, my hips rising off the mattress to catch him, my nails raking down the broad muscles of his back.
A sweat-slicked strand of hair stuck to my forehead, but I didn't care.
"You’re mine," he demanded, his face set in a mask of pure dominance. "Say it."
I bit my lip until I tasted blood, needing the grounding pain. "Don't stop. Don't let me go back."
"I've got you, Alessia. I've always had you."
He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear, and growled the filthiest praises directly into my brain. He bit the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder, his teeth sinking in just enough to hurt.
"You were so beautiful when you pulled that trigger," he rasped. "My little executioner. No one else would touch you now."
It was sick. It was completely twisted. But it was the only thing that made sense anymore.
We reached a simultaneous, violent climax that left us both gasping for air.
Leon groaned heavily, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he spent himself inside me.
My body trembled with the aftershocks, my fingers slowly uncurling from his back.
We collapsed together, a tangled heap of sweat, adrenaline, and shared sin.
My breathing slowed. The city lights flickered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, indifferent to the absolute destruction of who I used to be.
I looked over Leon’s shoulder at the pile of my torn tactical gear sitting on his perfectly clean hardwood floor.
The blood on my boot had already dried to a dull brown.
Somebody was going to have to clean that up tomorrow.