Marked by His Touch (Forbidden Desires #3)

1. The Motel Room

Chapter 1

The Motel Room

"I see their faces in the wallpaper, Alexander, all the ones we left behind in Port Haven," I say, my gaze fixed on the floral pattern that seems to mock me.

And it’s true, I see Sarah, I see Michelle, I see—Cole.

My knuckles crack against the cheap motel windowpane, the sound reverberating in the room’s stillness. I yank it open, the stale air rushing out and swirling with the scent of the nearby highway.

I turn away from the window and return to the bed, the worn mattress groaning under my weight. I look up; the wood-chipped ceiling above is a fire hazard waiting to happen. My gaze lands on the same tired floral pattern I've seen in countless motels across the country.

This place, this motel, is just another prison.

Alexander sits by the window, his back to me, tapping his fingers on the floral tablecloth. His face is impassive, a mask. I can't read him. He's always been a closed book.

“We can’t stay here, Alexander. I’m tired of running, tired of hiding,” I say. “I know you are, too.”

He still doesn’t answer me.

We’ve been on the run for weeks, constantly looking over our shoulders. Every time we've stopped for more than two nights, they've caught up to us. This motel room feels suffocating, just like the others. The Raven has sent his best men after us, and he isn't backing down.

Sunlight struggles to penetrate the dusty window panes of the second window. The single lamp on the nightstand illuminates a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

Alexander has had more than his usual share tonight. His eyes are cloudy, the whites bloodshot.

He grunts, “We stay as long as we need to stay.”

His gaze is fixed on the street outside, searching for something—or maybe avoiding something. Something or someone that won’t come back.

Michelle— she’s gone. I can't believe she's really gone.

I sit up on the edge of the bed; the worn fabric feels rough beneath my fingertips. A stray lock of hair escapes my ponytail, a dark strand against my skin.

This motel room is a world away from the life I once knew. But it’s all we have right now. And still, it’s not safe. I can feel it in the marrow of my bones.

Alexander leans back in the worn armchair; his expression is as hard and unyielding as the granite countertops in the mini kitchen downstairs.

The glass of whiskey in his hand is still. The amber liquid shimmers in the dim light, but he barely touches it. His jaw tightens, a furrow forming in his brow. He is lost in his thoughts, a world I can’t penetrate.

Even after watching him extinguish life with the flick of a wrist, some parts of him remain—hidden. He’s the only one who can keep me safe and protect me from the shadows that hunt us. But sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. Running, hiding, and changing rooms daily. Is this a life?

“We need to face whatever is hunting us,” I say, my voice gaining more strength. “We have to go back to Port Haven, Alexander.”

The words taste like ash in my mouth. I want a life with this magnificent man. I love him painfully much, but this running is wearing me down.

He finally looks up, his gaze piercing, his eyes as sharp and cold as the steel of the gun he always keeps within reach. “It’s too dangerous, they’re after you, Ava. They won’t stop. I can’t protect you in Port Haven.”

I know.

“Alex—” The name catches in my throat, and I regret it immediately. It’s a forbidden word. Michelle used to call him Alex.

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, his voice laced with a raw emotion that makes me shift on the bed.

I look down, quiet.

“Sorry,” he mutters, a flicker of regret crossing his face, but it disappears as quickly as it came. “I’m on edge, Ava. Please forgive me.”

“I need to make some phone calls,” he says, his voice hard again. “I need to get a hold of Isaac and tell him that our last location was compromised.”

I don’t know how they find us so fast, but they are.

I nod, my fingers fiddling with the fabric of my jeans. We’ve bought new things on our way across the country, trying to blend in and disappear. Jeans, baseball caps, oversized sunglasses. We’ve changed cars, ditched phones, and still. Someone knows where we are. Someone knows who we are.

The Raven’s men.

A sudden chill sweeps over me. I draw the curtains, shutting out the faint light filtering in. The room plunges into deeper darkness.

“I guess we need to move?” I say, looking at Alexander.

He nods and goes into the bathroom to make a phone call. I know he wants to protect me, but his secrecy is making it worse. He’s always watching, always on guard. It has gotten worse since Michelle's death.

I start packing, my fingers trembling slightly as I tuck away the clothes we’d bought, trying to find a semblance of order. I can hear Alexander’s mumbled voice from the bathroom, the sound of running water, but his words are lost.

Is he hiding something from me?

I hear a noise at the door, a muffled thump, then a click. My breath catches in my throat, a tight, constricted sound. Adrenaline pulses in my veins, a wild, exhilarating current. I know that sound. Someone is trying to get in.

“Alexander,” I shout, my voice strained, hoping he can hear me in the bathroom.

Fear claws at my throat, my heart pounding in my chest.

Where is my gun?

Before I know it, the door swings open, revealing a silhouetted figure against the light. It’s a man, and he moves quickly; a weapon is in his hand.

I can’t see his face, but his build is imposing—a wiry, muscular frame. He wears a leather jacket with the collar pulled up.

Alexander exits the bathroom just as the man raises his gun, pointing it at Alexander.

“Get down!” I scream a primal instinct that overrides my fear.

Alexander reacts instantly instead of listening to me, a trained reflex honed by years of violence. He surges forward, his hand a blur as he draws his gun.

The intruder explodes from the doorway like a wild-eyed beast. His eyes are burning embers, and his face a mask of hatred. I flinch as he lunges. He roars a primal sound that sends an icy shiver through me.

A shape in his hand glints as he lunges with his gun. The intruder fires, the loud blast rattling my bones. I smell gunpowder as I dive for cover, my heart pounding in my ears. The bullet ricochets off the wall, a spray of plaster falling around me.

Alexander ducks, the bullet whistling past him, the metallic scent of blood filling my nostrils.

Is he hurt? My pulse throbs in my temples: no, no, no.

The sharp click of Alexander’s Glock cuts through the room. The roar of the second shot, this time from Alexander’s gun, vibrates through the floorboards and into my bones. I can almost feel the heat of the bullet as it tears through the air, but the intruder doesn’t even flinch.

He catches Alexander’s jacket, tearing a jagged rip. Alexander retaliates with a brutal jab, his knuckles connecting with the intruder’s jaw with a sickening thud that makes my teeth clench. The intruder stumbles back, a grunt escaping his lips, but his eyes are still burning with rage.

My eyes dart to the guns, both lying on the floor across the room. I want to grab one, but the fight is too close, too chaotic. I’m trapped, paralyzed by fear.

I hate being like this, so weak, so useless. Damn it!

The man throws a wild punch, connecting with Alexander’s shoulder, sending him reeling back. He throws a counterpunch, connecting with the man’s nose, and his head snaps back.

Still, the intruder presses forward, his movements erratic. One of the Raven’s men, for sure. Alexander throws another punch, but the intruder grabs his fist, his grip like a steel vise, and slams Alexander against the wall, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs.

I scramble forward, my heart pounding. I want to help, to do anything, but I’m frozen. Alexander, however, is not. He uses the momentum of the impact to twist and drive his elbow into the intruder’s face. The man in the leather jacket cries out in pain, his grip on Alexander’s fist loosening.

Alexander takes advantage of the opening. He delivers a powerful right hook, connecting with the man’s jaw. The intruder crashes to the ground, his hand flying to his jaw, his body clattering onto the floor. He doesn’t get up.

He’s out; his eyes are turned white, but he’s still breathing.

I rush to Alexander’s side, adrenaline surging through my veins. My heart hammers in my chest. His muscles are taut, his breath ragged. Looking at him, I feel a strange pull in my chest. I see the blood staining his jawline. His eyes, though filled with the exhaustion of battle, burn with an untamed fire.

I look at Alexander. He has not stopped for a moment; he’s alive in this world. He thrives on violence like a creature who lives in the shadows. There’s a primal power in him, a raw, untamed energy. I’ve never been more attracted to him than right now, but I know there’s no time. We have to leave.

“They are coming faster,” Alexander says.

He’s right. We’ve barely been here in this motel.

The floral tablecloth, a kitschy attempt at a motel makeover, secures the makeshift gag Alexander makes.

He snaps the wires from the lamp, twisting them around the man’s wrists. Alexander drags him to the bathroom, and his body slumps against the bathroom’s green tiled wall, a dead weight. The click of the lock echoes through the room. It feels more like a sigh of relief than a triumph.

My sigh comes out ragged, a release of tension I didn’t know I was holding. It’s a strange feeling. It’s like a victory that’s tainted by the cost.

Alexander leans against the wall, his chest heaving, his gaze locked on me. The adrenaline still thrums through my veins, leaving a tingling sensation in my fingertips.

I notice something on the floor by the door. I pick it up, it’s an envelope.

"What is that?" I say, my fingers already tracing its surface. I tear it open, peering inside, and gasp. A single lock of red hair rests beside a black feather. My breath catches in my throat. It's a message.

“Red hair?” Alexander says.

My mind is in panic, focused, laser-focused on the red hair. “It’s a message from the Raven, from Cole.” I gasp. “He has Sarah.”

I’d recognize that hair color anywhere.

I freeze in place. No, no no, not Sarah. I never wanted to drag her into this.

“We’re leaving,” Alexander says with a low rumble, recognizing the hurt and desperation in my eyes. “I’ll get the bags. We’re going to Port Haven.”

Port Haven. Rain Haven. Home Haven.

I was so eager to go, to escape this running, but now that Alexander has agreed, a cold, icy hand grips me.

I’m thrown back to a place—a place with a different kind of fear.

The air is thick and cold, with shipping containers all around. The walls are bare and grimy, and the place is lit with stark overhead spotlights. It’s the basement of Cole’s warehouse in Port Haven. His fortress. His shipping warehouse is by the waterfront. The Raven’s playground.

I see Alexander, his face bruised and bloodied, slumped against the cold concrete floor. He’s unconscious, his breaths shallow and ragged.

Cole is there, looming over me. His cold and predatory eyes rake over my body. He commands his men to undo my shirt, his fingers brushing against my skin. I flinch back, fear constricting my chest.

He pulls my shirt down, his gaze meeting mine. It’s the chilling gaze of a master playing with his puppet. I can only watch, helpless, a prey caught in his trap.

He is about to touch me, his touch cold and invasive. I brace myself, the fear a physical force that tightens my muscles and constricts my breath.

The memory fades, leaving me gasping for breath. The metallic tang of blood, the suffocating fear—it’s all still there.

I hear Alexander’s breath beside me and he takes my hand. “Are you okay, Ava? You were gone there for a second.”

His gaze meets mine, and for a moment, I see the same raw, visceral fear reflected in his eyes. He’s afraid of losing me . He’s scared of me getting hurt. As I am of him, being harmed.

The world around me shifts back into focus: the motel room, the tension in the air. My pulse throbs in my temples, thinking about that night in the Raven’s warehouse, and now there’s one of his men lying unconscious in our bathroom.

I look at Alexander; his gaze meets mine, and a spark ignites in his eyes. It’s a primal hunger, a raw desire that makes me shudder. I part my lips and take him in.

His beard has grown long. His hands are sweaty and callous from the fight, and his breath is intense.

I feel a thrill run through me, a raw, automatic response to him. I’m inexplicably drawn to him, my heart pounding against my ribs.

My blood is still pumping, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I know we are in danger, but I feel a strange sense of exhilaration. I’m scared but more alive than I’ve felt in a long time.

He moves closer, his gaze intense, his touch scorching. He leans in, his breath warm against my skin. He pulls me towards him, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice husky. The words don’t fit our situation, but it only makes them better.

My body responds instinctively, a tremor running through me. I lean into his touch, my heart pounding.

He kisses me, a searing kiss that ignites a wildfire within me. He tastes of whiskey and blood, and I want him. His lips are rough against mine, his tongue probing my mouth, seeking entry. I gasp against his lips. The taste of him is intoxicating.

His hand slides down my back, his fingers finding their way beneath my shirt. He pushes my shirt up, his touch sending a wave of heat coursing through my body. Tracing the curve of my spine, a jolt of electricity courses through me. The current sets my senses ablaze.

His hands are rough against my skin, teasing, touching, demanding. He lifts me. His arms are solid and sure as he presses me against him. His body is hard, and his muscles rippling beneath my hands.

He kisses my neck, his lips trailing down my collarbone, his teeth lightly grazing my skin. I arch into his touch, my body craving more. He reaches for the waistband of my jeans, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric.

Pulling me closer, his mouth is at my ear now. “Spread your legs, Ava,” he whispers in a rough voice. “Strip for me.”

“Yes, Alexander,” I moan. The words are a surrender to the primal need that courses through me. There’s a promise of something raw and forbidden. I run my hands through his hair, tangling in its dark strands. I want him to claim me.

He kisses my lips again, a passionate, desperate kiss that makes my head spin. I pull off my jeans and knickers, leaving on my bra, my nipples hard beneath the fabric. He kneels before me, his gaze intense, and I sit on the bed, giving him an unrestricted view of my apex.

His eyes are hungry, and he demands every inch of me with his gaze. His eyes run up and down my slit as he slowly gets closer, inspecting it with primal intensity. “You’re so wet, Ava,” he grunts, his voice thick. “So perfectly tight.”

He plays with the sensitive skin around my entrance, running his finger slowly and painfully excruciating in circular motions close to my clit. I gasp; the feeling is exquisite, and all I want is more of him. I want him inside me, filling me up.

“Oh,” I moan.

Then, without warning, he shoves three fingers inside me, his touch sending a shockwave of pain and pleasure through my body. I draw back, surprised by the intensity of the sensation, moaning loudly, “Shit, aw, Alexander.”

He then runs his tongue in circular motions on my clit, making me gasp loudly.

“You’ll take me, Ava, as you always do,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Without complaining.”

I don’t answer. The feeling of his fingers twirling and swirling inside me is too hot, too intoxicating, too raw. I can’t express anything but pleasure as he simultaneously runs his tongue up and down my clit now. His touch is like a delicious torment. In and out, the feeling is overwhelming and just perfect.

“Answer me, Ava. Will you be a good girl? Take whatever I give you.”

My eyes widen, pleading, “Yes, Alexander.” I nod. “I will take it.”

I submit, my eyes fixated on his chest, the rise and fall of his breath, the way his muscles tense with each thrust of his fingers. I pull his hair, pushing him further against my throbbing clit, a desperate need building inside me.

His other arm suddenly pinches my nipple, and then it rips off my bra in one pleasurable, violent movement. I look towards the bathroom door; there’s a man behind it. A man Alexander has taken down with his bare hands to protect me. The forbidden thrill of his world, of his being, of his instincts to keep me safe—it excites me.

He pinches my other nipple, sending raw, primal needs through my body. I want him inside me, fuck, I want all of him, now.

As if he reads my mind, he leans over, his face hovering above mine, his gaze intense. His length is hard against his pants, a throbbing pulse against my skin. He unbuttons his pants and sets his cock free. It rises to greet me, a powerful, demanding presence.

He bends down and licks my face, his tongue tracing a path from my chin to my neck, making the hair on my neck stand on end. Then he turns me over, so I’m on all fours, arching up against him. Giving him a full view of me from behind. He spreads my butt cheeks, his hands firm and sure.

“You’ll take my hard dick in your tight hole and don’t make a sound. We don’t want him to wake up.”

“But Alexan—” I moan, not able to keep quiet. He pushes a cloth into my mouth, stuffing me into silence. Then he pulls back my hair towards him, making me arch up further so he can enter me deeply. He exits his fingers from my pussy, using the wetness to smoothen my hole. He first probes me open by inserting two fingers inside, twirling them to loosen me up. He’s using my wetness to make the entrance ready for him. The feeling is indescribable pleasure, and I shudder in delight. Shit. I know what’s coming, and I can’t wait.

“Shhh, Ava, open yourself.”

I comply, knowing what’s coming, and I take him. I take all of him inside me. In one motion, he slams into me, his length filling my tight hole, stretching me open. I’m prepared to take him, as I always am. The feeling of him filling me out is blowing my mind; the scent of cheap perfume and Alexander’s hard cock inside me pushes me close to the edge. He pushes himself in and out as I meet his every thrust. He hammers into me repeatedly, like it’s a need, a must, an obligation to satisfy me.

I’m close—and he knows it. He can feel it.

“Not yet,” he groans, his voice a guttural growl as he pounds into me, our bodies sweaty, moving in a perfect rhythm against each other. I moan loudly in delight. My breast’s friction against the cheap, wannabe-silky sheets adds another layer of pleasure as he grabs my breast, squeezing it, the nipple intertwined between his thumb and index finger. He’s rubbing it, a rough, demanding touch that sends waves of sensation through me. It’s getting sore, swollen from pain, yet I want more, I need more, I need him.

He sticks two fingers back in my slit, double penetrating me. He grunts, “Fuck yes, Ava. So—-tight.”

I nod in compliance, slurping up his feelings, filling my holes with his thickness. The feeling is beyond anything I could ever imagine.

Magical, hot, perfection.

“Oh, yes,” he moans between gritted teeth as he hammers into me. It’s too much, and I can’t take it anymore. I rip out the cloth from my mouth, and I explode in a fury of colors; my nerve endings are on fire, and I squirt against him, throbbing and jolting through me.

“Shit, you’re squirting, Ava,” he says; I can almost hear the smile on his lips as his body stiffens, emptying himself in my tightness, slapping my butt cheek one last time, leaving a searing mark of pain and pleasure on my backside.

Marking me by his touch, there’s a burning fire within me, a blend of hotness, desire, and deep, primal love. He collapses on top of me, staying inside of me, and I feel him empty all of him.

He whispers in my ear, “Oh fuck, Ava. You’re so—perfect.” He closes his body around me, his breathing ragged. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I groan, every inch of my body relaxing, enjoying the feeling after I’ve come around him and on him.

He places a gentle kiss on my hair.

I send him a wry smile. “What do we do about a shower?” I mock, my voice a little breathless.

“I have no freakin’ clue,” Alexander says. He’s still inside me, his body heavy and warm, a comforting weight against mine. He shifts, and I feel his hand gently tracing the curve of my back. He turns me around as he exits, and his eyes meet mine, that piercing blue that always seems to see right through me.

There’s a tenderness in those eyes that doesn’t quite match the roughness of his touch. He hugs me tight, his body a shield against the world.

“My Ava,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. He rubs his nose against my hair, the gesture as familiar as a heartbeat.

I see the pain he’s trying to hide in his eyes. It’s like a storm brewing behind his gaze, one he’s desperately trying to contain. But I don’t mention it. Not right now. Not when the heat of his body still lingers against mine. I don’t want to spoil the mood.

Not yet.

A muffled groan echoes from the bathroom, barely audible over the hum of the motel’s air conditioner. Alexander rises, a shadow crossing his face as he goes to investigate. He returns a moment later, the tension still etched on his features. “He’s still out,” he says, sliding into the bed beside me, “Just the plumbing giving way.”

We’re not safe here, are we?

My skin prickles with a thousand tiny needles. The intruder’s attack flashes before my eyes. I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I glance at the bathroom door.

My hand unconsciously reaches for Alexander’s arm. He’s a safety net, but he’s also a reminder of my vulnerability. What if I had been alone here? Had Alexander been out? Would I be dead? Kidnapped? I don’t know.

I hate how weak I am.

It’s like a nagging discomfort, a stone in my shoe, a constant reminder that I’m not as strong as I pretend to be. A shadow flickers across my face, but I quickly mask it with a smile. I don’t want to worry him.

Enjoy the moment, Ava.

This moment, this stolen pleasure is the magical danger we inhabit. And it is a world I’m willing to explore and accept as long as he is by my side. What I’m not able to accept is The Raven threatening Sarah.

“Fuck the shower,” I say, closing my eyes, inhaling his scent. “Let’s go to Port Haven.”

Alexander nods, pulling on his jeans. “I’ll need a suit.”

I nod, “And eventually, a shower.”