Chapter Thirty-Five
Mira
“Fuck…” I awaken to the swear word leaving my lips, accompanied by a scorching, consuming heat between my thighs.
The warmth comes from Dorian’s fingers rubbing my pussy and circling my clit, getting me ready for him.
It’s the middle of the night; the moon is shining high in the sky, and the house is dead silent. “Dorian—”
“Shh. I just need to use this pussy, then you can go back to sleep.”
His words should be humiliating, but instead they cause the heat between my thighs to burn all the brighter. I love it when he uses me to get himself off, though he’s never a selfish lover. Even when he’s borrowing my body for his own ends, he’s still attentive to my needs. Overly attentive.
“Dorian, I’ve come so many times today already, I don’t know if I can—”
“I don’t care. Either safeword or take it.” He doesn’t stop his movements, as if he’s already certain that I’ll choose to take it.
He’s right. I’m tired and this is pushing me, but not too far. I want to make him feel good too, to get him off, and I know that the reciprocation when we have sex is what gets him most excited. He doesn’t get off unless I get off. How did I get so lucky?
“What time is it?” I mumble, back arching as he slides two fingers into me.
“Three.”
“I have classes early tomorrow morning—”
“If you have the bandwidth to think about school right now, I’m clearly not doing my job.
” He positions himself between my thighs, then wraps a hand around my neck.
“Look at me.” His thumb rubs circles over my clit, making me gasp.
I find his eyes even in the darkness of the room.
The green of his irises glow, almost like his passion is enough to light them up.
My toes curl as we watch each other, and he blinks slowly. “Come.”
I’m helpless to do anything but obey. My body jerks, and I muffle my moan with my hands. I don’t want to wake up anyone else, not when there’s finally a fragile peace in this house.
“Good girl.” Dorian flips me onto my hands and knees without giving me warning.
His hand wraps around the back of my neck, pressing my upper body into the mattress.
I turn my head sideways, loving the cool sheets against my face.
I’m burning up with both my body heat and Dorian’s, and I get the feeling that things will only get hotter from here.
I’m proven right when he starts to slide inside me, one thick inch at a time. He releases a low grunt, digging his nails into my hips. “Fucking hell, that’s hot.”
“You should open the window,” I breathe. “It’s too warm in here.”
“Not what I was talking about.” He gives my ass a light slap. “This is hot as fuck. You’re hot as fuck. Jesus Christ, what did I do to deserve you?”
He’s echoing my own thoughts, but I can’t resist teasing him. “Chased me down in a forest, kidnapped me…”
He releases my neck, gathers both of my arms in his hands, and pins them at the small of my back. “You’ll pay for that, baby.”
He makes good on his threat, pumping into me with deep, hard strokes that make my eyes roll into the back of my head.
I moan and whimper and try to wriggle my hands, but he only tightens his grip.
He doesn’t play with my clit like he usually does, but he doesn’t need to.
The feeling of him inside me, the force of his desire and passion, is enough to get me off.
I come with a cry that I muffle into the bedsheets, fingers grasping air and body shivering.
Dorian lets out a long curse before also orgasming, buried so deep inside me I can’t tell where he starts and I end.
He releases my wrists, letting them fall limply to my sides.
After laying down flat on the bed, he pulls me into him, arranging our bodies so they fit together like pieces of a puzzle.
“You’re making me coffee in the morning,” I say with a yawn. “And bringing it to me before I wake up.”
“Can I fuck you first?” At my glare, Dorian chuckles. “Just kidding. Kinda.” He drops a kiss on my forehead. “I like it when you’re bossy. I’ll make you as much coffee as you want and breakfast in bed, as long as I get to fuck you before school.”
I let out a grumble that lacks any real rancor. I’m very sore, but I’m also addicted to the feeling of him inside me, so I won’t complain.
“Deal.”
The week passes without incident. I fall into a routine with Dorian; breakfast together, classes, then back to the House of Horrors.
On Thursday night, we officially get the keys to the apartment he rented, but decide to hold off on moving in for a couple weeks.
I’m not quite as opposed to living in his house as I once was; not now that Connor seems to tolerate me.
Seamus disappears every night for a booty call, and I keep the growing suspicion that he’s hooking up with Valerie to myself.
On Friday, I have another girl’s night; Seamus and Dorian once again crash it, while Connor bows out.
The tension between Val and Seamus is palpable and electric, but they don’t make any moves to act on it.
Seamus spends long stretches of time just staring at Val, but she seems content to ignore him altogether.
On Sunday, the first day of November, we have a house meeting. Dorian, Seamus and I all take seats in the living room and talk strategy for the showdown that’ll take place in my hometown. Dorian and I have domain over the couch, while Connor and Seamus take their positions on armchairs.
“It’ll be tough,” Seamus says, resting his chin on his hands. “It’s not on our territory, which puts us at an instant disadvantage.”
“We can overcome that with enough firepower,” Dorian murmurs, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me onto his lap. I go willingly, relaxing against his chest. “We have training, discipline, and loyalty that doesn’t just hinge on money.”
“Sergei’s bringing five men,” Connor grunts. “That puts us at nine fighters.”
“Ten with Mira,” Seamus says, gazing at me. “You know how to handle your guns, love. If you’re at the meet, we’ll want you armed and armored, ready to attack or defend.”
“Don’t tell her what to do,” Dorian snaps. He kisses the shell of my ear. “If you want, you can sit it out. Pretend to be sick. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, baby.”
“I want to help,” I say firmly. “I want Clyde and Carver dead.”
“Never knew you were so bloodthirsty,” Seamus says with a grin.
I raise my eyebrows, giving him a droll look.
“I’m not a mean person, but I can be vengeful.
Clyde and Carver are the reasons my mother is dead.
They’re the reasons I have scars that will never go away, on my skin and in my soul.
If you don’t think I want them dead, you’re crazy.
I’ll pull the trigger without losing a moment’s sleep. ”
Seamus whistles. “Well. With that sort of endorsement, you’ll certainly be useful.”
“Not if you’re acting out of anger or vengeance,” Connor says seriously, leaning forward and pinning me with a hard gaze.
“If your approach is emotional, then it’ll be volatile.
If you’re volatile, you become a liability.
If you become a fucking liability, you can make mistakes that get us all killed—”
“Give me a little credit,” I cut him off. “I know how to control my emotions. I think I’ve already proven that.”
Connor examines me with drawn brows for several moments before giving a nod. “Fine. You can come.”
“Thank you, oh benevolent overlord,” I say drily. “I wasn’t asking for your permission, jerk.”
Seamus and Dorian chuckle; Connor shoots me a glare, but his gaze is devoid of any genuine rancor or anger.
“Sergei did say that he has a problem with sneaking sufficient firepower into the states,” Dorian says. “We can only take so many weapons; we only have so many weapons, and getting each one into Pennsylvania means shelling out cash for copious bribes.”
“There’s gotta be a place we can raid near the town,” Seamus says thoughtfully. “I’m sure there will be gun stores we can rob…”
“That won’t be necessary,” I interject. “I still have one friend in my hometown. He owns a shooting range.” I swallow, feeling an odd mixture of sadness and affection swirl in my chest as I think of the one man who showed me kindness and care when nobody else did.
Asher Calder. His love for my mother extended to me in her absence, and he took care of me as best as he could.
I was at his range nearly every day after school, sometimes because I simply didn’t want to go home, and he was kind to me.
Gave me food, taught me to handle my guns, and gave me basic self-defense lessons.
“The bloke who taught you how to handle your weapons?” Seamus asks.
I nod, recalling the night when I had to tell these guys everything. It was under shitty circumstances, but I’m glad I don’t have to rehash it all now—they already know the relevant details of my past. “His name’s Asher. Asher Calder. If I ask him for help, he’ll give it.”
“How are you sure?” Connor challenges. “You haven’t seen this person in years, I assume. Have you spoken with him? Kept in contact?”
I swallow. “I haven’t, aside from phone calls on my birthday.
I know he’ll help because my mother was the love of his life, and he’s wanted to kill the fuckers who led her to a horrible death for years.
He just hasn’t had the right opportunity yet.
If I talk to him, he’ll help.” I think. No, I know.
Asher had my back then, and he’ll have my back now.
“Right, then the issue becomes evading detection while we get his help,” Seamus says. “I assume that Carver will have eyes on us the second we step into town.”
“The shooting range is about thirty minutes outside of town, well out of Carver’s jurisdiction,” I say. “It’s a different county. If he even bothers to put people there, I don’t think it’ll be very many.”