Twenty-Five
Ara
I frown.
Did I hear him right? Because it sounded like he told me to kiss him. That did not sound right.
“What?” I reply, dumbfounded.
“Kiss. Me.” He enunciates the two words.
I hear Ivy take in a sharp gasp, and the stranger’s disbelieving chuckle reaches my ears. But they do nothing to the surprise and affront that I feel. How dare he! How frigging dare he try and exploit my situation in a way that is so…so….wrong!
“No.” I declare.
The doors to the container open a second later with a mighty thud that has me jumping in fear and letting out a short shriek. Ivy tries to become one with the metal walls while both Zagan and his stranger seem unfazed. Zagan doesn’t even spare the goons a glance as they start to advance towards us.
He says nothing but he simply starts to walk away.
I turn to see all those men regard Zagan and the git for a minute, thinking about going against them. Despite all the goon's large bodies, Zagan looks more formidable against them. With the company of the stranger, both of them look untouchable.
When neither of these men show any traces of helping us, albeit hesitantly, the goons start to advance. Ivy lets out a tiny cry of fear, and the gravity of the situation forces me to accept my fate.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, trying to bring in the composure of not letting go of the courage. It is just a lousy kiss, anyway. It isn’t like I hadn’t kissed anyone before.
When I open my eyes again, I turn to Zagan, wishing he would be a bad kisser. Because even the slightest brush of his lips against my skin turned me into a mess for days, leaving my thoughts scattered and useless. I can only imagine what a real kiss would do to me.
I have no idea what possessed him to demand something this absurd, but I know it’s not for any noble reason. For him, it could be just another source of entertainment, or I could be yet another woman he’s kissed. Or maybe it’s tied to whatever twisted reason he’s become my part-time stalker.
But I know it won’t mean the same to him as it does to me. I can already feel the weeks of agonising thoughts ahead, thoughts that will make me stupid and useless. But with one glance at the thugs, who are growing more confident with each step, I make my decision.
I am not going to give up on life now after going through all that suffering. Cas and Iyra will not be stranded!
I take a wobbly step towards Zagan, stopping when his frustratingly intoxicating scent envelops me as I step into his personal space. It might as well be the peak of a mountain because the air around here is thick and scarce, forcing my lungs to heave in large gulps of air.
Up this close, I have to crane my neck to look at his eyes when he turns, which shine with an indecipherable expression while he grits his teeth as if he is stopping himself from doing something.
What?
A muscle in his jaw twitches, and his Adam's apple bobs with a quick gulp as he looks down at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s affected by me, too.
“Just don’t kill them.” I urge after sparing the men a last glance.
Even if they are out to kill us, it isn’t on their own accord. They are here because someone had ordered them to, and not following their order will have them killed. This could be a naive and soft move which could come back to bite my arse, but I cannot handle any more blood on my hands.
When I look back at Zagan, he dips his chin. It is so quick and short that I would’ve missed it if I blinked. But I do see it and take in a large inhale before I stand on my tiptoes.
I can still only reach his chin as he stands tall, imposing in his height. I grip the lapels of his suit and pull him down, and I can only move him because he allows it. His eyes, dark and brooding, hold me captive, and the bewitching scars that have mesmerised me since the start draw me in even further. I seal my fate by closing my eyes and pressing my lips to his.
Sparks of electricity shoot down my spine, making me gasp in surprise at the sensation—something I’d only ever read about in books. One second. Just one second. That’s all I’m given before large hands cover me, and Zagan takes control of the kiss. One hand grips the nape of my neck, the other circling the base of my waist, pulling me closer. He plunges into my mouth like a man starving, his lips soft, a stark contrast to the hardness of his body pressing into me, held firm by his steel grip. His tongue clashes with mine, sucking, exploring, claiming every inch of my mouth.
I feel my feet leave the floor as he turns, nipping at my bottom lip. Teeth clash together, heedless of the world around us, as we sink deeper. I push myself impossibly closer, consumed by the chaotic storm of emotions trying to break free within me. A shiver runs through me when his teeth graze my lip, and he soothes the sting with his warm tongue.
I never pegged Zagan, a man so indifferent, to kiss me like this—as if he were trying to pull the life out of me. My heart pounds erratically, refusing to return to its usual pace, and the goosebumps never fade. My cheeks flush with heat, a flutter of longing pooling down south, craving the roughness of his hands, the steel of his touch.
I can feel the slickness coating my thighs, and a soft moan escapes my lips when I feel the evidence of his desire pressing into my lower stomach. A shiver wracks my body despite his warmth when he growls, low and animalistic, pulling me even closer.
The kiss stretches on, timeless, as though it’s both an eternity and a moment. Lost in the bliss, in the electric sparks dancing through my body, I don't even realise how badly I need air until my lungs scream for it. Reluctantly, I pull away, but Zagan isn’t ready to let go. He nips at my bottom lip one last time, soothing it with his tongue before I can break free.
I only pull an inch away, and our breaths still mingle, warm and unsteady, as I try to gulp in much-needed air.
So that’s what it means to kiss each other breathlessly.
Zagan’s eyes are even darker than before, edging into black as he looks at me. It bothers me to see his face the same mask of blankness while I am sure mine depicts all the waywardness and arousal I feel all over my body. I was right.
Kissing Zagan will never let me go back to normal again. It was earth-shattering, mind-boggling and the most intense experience I ever had. If I am being true to the darkest and most immoral self of my mind, I want to do it again. And again and again and never stop.
“And the second?” I hope my voice isn’t as breathy as it sounds to my ears.
“Be mine.” His husky voice would have been my undoing.
Coupled with that intense look and the grit of his jaw, as if he was resisting the urge to kiss me senseless again, it would have made me agree to do anything at that minute. But my eyes shift towards the image behind Zagan’s back, and I still. The crazily beating heart starts to beat at a maddening pace for a whole different reason.
My grip on his lapels loosens while my eyes are stuck on the carnage I am witnessing. The men who chased us lay dead in their pools of blood. Nico stands in the centre, holding a knife in his hand, the sharp metal shining with crimson. He looks nothing like the man who I invited into my home. He isn’t the man whose eyes glistened with something warm when I complimented him, isn’t the man who helped me with the dishes after the party, isn’t the man who played with Cas and let him climb into his lap and look at all his tattoos.
Right now, he stands in his element. In his true shadows, he spits down at one of the guys who still have a slight life left in him. With one powerful stomp on his neck, Nico kills it. His eyes shine in bitterness and bloodlust as he crouches down to wipe his blade on the now-dead guy’s jacket. He doesn’t meet my eye or Ivy’s. He just looks right at his boss, gives him a nod and steps back.
He slinks back into the shadows as quietly as he came, and along with his disappearance, a slow fissure of anger starts to form in me. This time, when I look back at Zagan, his previous intense emotion is swapped with a stale indifference, which is edging me to vexation.
“He was here all this time?” I ask as I struggle to wiggle out of his grip.
He holds me mid-air as if I weigh nothing. His hands on my body are no longer appreciated. But his grip only tightens, and his eyes flare in a warning.
“Yes.”
“But you agreed not to kill them!” I say dumbly as I try to slap his bands of steel away from my waist.
These darn sparks are travelling south again, not allowing my voice to come out as sharp as I intend it to.
“I lied.”
“Well, technically, he didn’t kill them,”
The rude git quips as if I require his interference in this matter. Now, out of the other times. The corner of Zagan’s lips—the one which is marred by the scar—tips upwards slightly into a devilish smirk. It is annoying, frustrating and downright illegal to look as handsome as he does when it isn’t even a full smirk.
This darn heart of mine refuses to slow down and instead flutters under the rare smirk he graces me with.
“Put me down!”
When he grips me harder instead, I pinch the inside of his wrist. Hard. There isn’t even an infinitesimal amount of change on his hardened face, but he lets me go. He places me back on the ground with a gentleness I am surprised he could possess. But in retrospect, every time he touched me, he did it with gentleness. Every single time. I hate myself for thinking about it right now.
When his hands leave me, I am not prepared for the legs, which had turned to jelly. Thankfully, I can stand without falling face first and shake away the sudden chill that surrounds me. I'd rather die of chill than bask in his stupidly warm hands.
“Ivy, let’s go,” I call for my best friend, who looks as pale as a ghost.
She quickly rushes towards me, peeking a wary glance towards the stranger. I am beyond caring now. The fury encapsulates every fibre of my being, trying to shut down the guilt and the darkness inside me, which would surely pop out to look at the carnage surrounding me.
More than the guilt, I am afraid of the fluttering inside my heart that awoke with a single kiss. One kiss was all it took to evoke those forgotten flutters. It terrifies me to acknowledge them because they are being evoked by a man who kills as a profession. He lied about not murdering people as easily as I did about not finishing a pack of chips.
With my back facing the dead men and Zagan, I begin to walk towards the other end of the container, where two doors are open now. Was I so lost in that kiss that I failed to even notice the opening of these large, squeaky things?
Damn him!
“What about the deal, love?” The cold git calls, a hint of amusement clear in his deep baritone.
I throw a glare over my shoulder, purposefully avoiding looking at the corpses and shooting a pointed scowl towards the scarred devil. Those darned scars still manage to make my heart skid to a halt and beat at an unnatural pace with their sheer beauty.
“I. Lied.” I throw the words back at him before I turn around and walk away.
* * *
The video is playing, and even with the volume low, the screams are unavoidable, slicing through the room like knives. My stomach churns, memories of the night clawing back up, almost choking me. Across from me, Iblis watches with a face of cold indifference, his gaze unwavering even as the worst parts flash onscreen.
I glance at Ivy, who’s seated next to me, her eyes locked onto him with a mixture of fascination and fear. I would have rolled my eyes if I were on higher moral ground—but right now, I’m not.
An unwelcome tingle still lingers on my lips from that stupid kiss with Zagan an hour ago. I shove the thought down, forcing my attention back to Iblis. He sits here, in my living room, looking absurdly out of place. He belongs in a penthouse or manor, not on this cream couch in my modest home.
But he’s here, and so is Eero, thanks to the ‘crap storm’ at the docks.
Eero brought him, saying, “He’s got ways to help,” like that was reason enough to invite a man like Iblis Vesper into my home—this charming, snake-eyed diplomat whose real expertise is a twisted brand of negotiation and manipulation.
I’m uneasy having these two men inside my home. Somewhere along the way, as Eero tried to befriend us, it became easier to overlook what he was capable of—the things he did the night we met. Maybe we’ve been working so hard to suppress those memories—memories of corpses, flashes of lightning, and the brush with death—that we convinced ourselves it was all just a nightmare conjured up by an overactive imagination.
But the image of Nico, staring down at the men he killed with complete disregard, still lingers. He didn’t flinch, not once. And Zagan, completely unfazed, watched as blood pooled and stained his shoes.
The harsh truth hits me with disturbing clarity: these men aren’t just anyone. Eero is an enforcer, a man who tortures and kills for information—and he relishes it. Nico, a loyal guard to his boss, doesn’t hesitate to carry out any order, no matter how dark. Then there’s Iblis, the silver-tongued diplomat who handles their delicate negotiations, the gatekeeper who decides who gets invited into their world and who meets the wrath of their enforcer.
These aren’t just men—they’re the embodiment of the shadows that rule their world. And Zagan…Zagan Devlin, the man who oversees it all, whose power stretches into every shadowed corner of this world. He’s unfeeling and ruthless—I saw it firsthand tonight.
I was under the illusion that they were somehow approachable, even within reach—just because he’d saved me a few times. I’m grateful for what he’s done, but it’s time to shatter that dream where I painted them as something close to normal. But now, the reality is crashing down: these are no knights in shining armour. They’re killers, ruthless and unyielding, and I have two of them in my home right now, with my child asleep upstairs. And, worse still, I kissed the most dangerous one of them all!
You speak as if you aren’t one like them.
The hiss inside my head feels like a physical slap to my cheek, silencing the judgmental thoughts swirling within me. It’s true; I have no right to sit here and condemn them when I’ve done the same—if not worse. I’ve killed innocents, all for my own gain.
I ran, abandoning my friend in that wretched place. I didn’t even glance back, not even when I heard the screams of the women being dragged into the burning wagons at the ritual grounds. Instead, I just kept running. I ran until those cries faded into the distance, until the darkness engulfed me completely, transforming me into a monster I feared to face.
Every time I look in the mirror, I see that reflection—the dangerous, all-consuming part of me that turns me into something out of nightmares.
I let out a breath, pushing away the notion that I could ever be a normal woman. No matter how much I wish it were true, I’m not.
I look at the men, seeing them for who they truly are, accepting them without delusion. Eero is my friend. Despite his abilities, he chose to be kind to me, to be someone I can turn to in times like this. Yes, they’re dangerous, and being associated with them comes with its own risks. But am I not more dangerous? Doesn’t the threat of what I could bring to their doorstep still loom over us?
To be honest, I need this friendship. I need these connections to this mob, just in case—just in case I’m found. It’s a selfish thought, and I recognise that. But I’ve never claimed to be pure. I’m tainted. My soul, my very existence, is stained with a dark, sticky substance that glimmers red.
“That’s quite an evidence you’ve gathered, Ms O’Shea.” Iblis’s voice is soft, almost mocking.
Ivy thinks she is sneaky, but both Iblis and I observe the way she turns rigid and moves closer to me. She is scared, more scared than when we were being chased. Why? I thought Iblis never approached her after she quit her job. It is clear from the way she reacts, there’s more between them than that meets the eye.
I turn from her to Iblis, who sports a small smirk on his handsome face. His eyes are fixed on my friend, not hiding the intensity of whatever dark thoughts are brewing inside his head. If I’m being honest, out of all these men, I’m wary of this guy the most. I’d be a fool to trust this man. Unlike Zagan’s unfiltered menace, Iblis hides his darkness beneath a gentleman’s mask, almost undetectable—until it’s not.
At least with Zagan, I know not to expect anything good.
Why? He saved you more times than you have saved yourself.
I ignore the thought. I’m hell-bent on not seeing him as anything good. It does not bode well for the gutter-worthy thoughts flowing inside my brain whenever I think about him. I can feel the bruises his fingers left on my waist from earlier. I wanted to slap myself when a fissure of erotic high went down south at seeing them as I changed out of my clothes, which I promptly burned after bandaging my poor feet.
“Can this be enough to stop them?” I ask.
Iblis’s eyes turn to me, losing the darkness to be masked with the faux gentleman.
“You think a small video with grainy quality is enough to stop an organisation that might be conducting human experiments in different parts of the world?”
I knew that. But he didn’t need to sound so condescending in the way he framed his question as if he was looking down at us.
“Don’t be a dick, Iblis,” Eero warns from behind him.
Iblis gives a delicate, insincere smile. “Apologies,” he murmurs, eyes glittering with barely veiled amusement. “But no, Dr Sinclair. It won’t be enough.”
Ivy’s shoulders slump as she gazes down at her hands, the weight of her turmoil evident in her posture. I can almost feel the guilt radiating from her, a palpable tension that hangs in the air. I know that the moment these men step out of the house, she’ll break down, apologising for things she doesn’t need to. I can see it already in her tear-filled eyes as she turns to me, biting the inside of her cheek, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.
I hug her close, telling her to shut up. Does she not realise yet that I’d stand by her side no matter the danger? That I’d face any threat with her, knowing full well the risks we’re taking? Stupid woman.
“Never apologise for doing the right thing, Ives.”
She sniffs into my neck, her hands gripping my shirt tightly. I can feel her distress, the weight of her guilt for not being able to bring justice to the people she writes about. I know she blames herself for not doing anything about their suffering, and it pains me to see her like this. It’s going to take time—so much reasoning and reassurance—to pull her out of this darkness.
“But it is a start,”
Ivy peeks at Iblis, her head still buried in my neck, and I follow her gaze, narrowing my eyes at him with suspicion. I can sense Ivy’s hope hanging in the air, fragile and tentative, as she clings to the possibility that he might somehow help us. But I’m not so easily convinced.
“Really?” Her voice is soft, too trusting.
Iblis gives Ivy a small smile, one that almost seems genuine. Almost. But his eyes betray the facade, remaining icy cold and distant, just like the rude git in the shipping container. There’s a chill in his expression that makes it hard for me to trust him, despite the warmth he tries to project.
“I can, at most, halt the experimentation in Walius. I can’t promise you that I can shut it down completely, Ms. O’Shea. I’m afraid I don’t hold that kind of power.”
Why don’t I believe him? When his sneaky eyes dart to me for a brief second before returning to Ivy, I sense he has a hidden agenda—something that won’t bode well for me. Eero suddenly becomes engrossed in the bookshelf he assembled, turning his back to me, as if trying to avoid looking at me.
“Who does?” Ivy asks slowly.
“The boss does.”
Ivy deflates, and I can feel the life force within her dwindling along with her hope. I might be a selfish witch who only cares about myself and my family, but Ivy genuinely cares for every person she can help. Iblis sees that vulnerability, and he is exploiting it.
“Fat chance he might help me.” She grumbles.
“Not you. But he will be interested in anything Dr Sinclair has to say.”
There it is. The first nail in my coffin. I see Eero turn back to us with an impassive face that I think he replicates from his boss.
“I agree,” he nods.
I’m surrounded by traitors. Expect, of course, Ivy and Cas. I can see the smirk in Iblis’s eyes, but he maintains the facade of care on his face. Can Ivy not see it?
I look down at Ivy, seeing the painful dilemma etched on her face. She wants to make it stop, but she won’t ask me to approach him. She knows me too well—my fears, my past. Just as I know her.
She’s been there for me through thick and thin, holding me up on days when I felt unworthy, and guiding me through my darkest moments. She chooses to stand by my side despite all the chaos. She’s a wonderful aunt to Cas, and I know she will always be there for him. She’s even a good friend to Iyra, and I can see the bond they share, close and unwavering in its own way.
“Fine,”
Ivy looks up at me in unveiled surprise as she gets up to sit straight.
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
I’m not heartless. It’s just that, I’m scared. I’m a coward who is resilient in survival.
I weep for what they’re doing to the people in the name of experiments. The scientist inside me revolts against the idea of exploiting the love of my life—science—in such a horrific way. If there’s a way I can put a stop to it without putting myself at risk, I will do it.
Even if it means facing the devil himself.