EIGHT
P oison woke to the first light of dawn seeping through the tall windows, casting a soft glow across the room. She stretched, the lingering soreness in her body a reminder of the night before. When she closed her eyes again, she could almost feel Scorpion’s touch, the heat of his hands on her skin, the way he had ignited a fire deep within her.
But when she turned over, she jolted upright. The space beside her was empty. Her eyes scanned the apartment, taking in the exposed brick walls, the bookshelves filled with books and trinkets.
Rising from the bed, she stared down at her completely naked body and began searching for her clothes. The memory of Scorpion tearing her blouse apart made her smile. Instead, she found his shirt on the floor and slipped it over her head, the fabric still carrying his scent.
She took a moment to take in the apartment. From the outside, and even from within, she would never have guessed that the top floor held such refined luxury. The sleek lines of the stainless-steel kitchenette perfectly complemented the industrial vibe of concrete and exposed brick.
Her attention wandered to the bookshelves, where she let her fingers glide over the spines of the books. But something else caught her eye—tiny rainbows reflected in the light. Perched atop a couple of leather-bound volumes was a crystal skull, its crown artfully cracked open, with a black glass lotus flower blooming from within. A scorpion, etched with precision, adorned the forehead.
She trailed a nail along the smooth curve of the scorpion’s tail, over the lotus and the skull, noting how the intricate details mirrored the tattoo on Scorpion’s throat. Her hand instinctively moved to her own neck, recalling the kisses she had pressed against the ink on his skin.
Fuck, she was wet all over again.
She made her way to the small bathroom, but he wasn’t there either. She considered going to look for him, but the enormity of the factory would make it difficult to know where to even begin her search. Maybe the roof? If
he was there without her, he most likely wanted to spend the time alone. He would come back when he was ready.
She tried not to overthink it, but the voices in her mind started murmuring, and so did her stomach. Its growling echoed through the open apartment. Laughing at herself, she walked to the kitchenette and began brewing a fresh pot of coffee.
Reaching to retrieve a mug from a shelf above the counter, she heard a slow whistle from behind her. Spinning around and pulling the shirt that had pulled up over her ass back down, she found Scorpion leaning against the doorframe, hands behind his back.
“Good morning,” she said, flustered. “Sorry, I made myself at home and made some coffee.”
“Please don’t stop on my behalf. The show is worthy of a standing ovation.”
His devilish smile was infectious, and she tried not to squirm under his gaze or look at his crotch.
“You want a cup?” she offered, trying to hide the blush staining her cheeks.
He responded with a slow nod, and she turned to get another mug. She picked the one on the highest shelf, the shirt pulling up ever so slightly over her bare ass. If it was a show he wanted, it was a show she’d give him.
Turning back, she half expected to see him still lingering by the door, but instead, he was right behind her. The sudden closeness made her heart skip a beat—how did he move so quietly? He held out two paper bags, and for the first time, she saw his confidence waver. His smile faltered, his eyes dropping to the floor before he raised one of the bags slightly.
“I brought doughnuts,” he offered, his voice almost hesitant, as if unsure of her reaction. He placed the bag on the counter beside her, his wrist brushing her hip in a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down her spine.
“And plan B,” he continued, lifting the second bag. “I wasn’t sure…” His words trailed off, lost in the tension of the moment.
She stood there, mesmerized by the sight of heat creeping up his cheeks. Seeing Scorpion, this man who exuded such power and control, suddenly shy was the most adorable thing she had ever witnessed. She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips, the sound light and carefree.
Taking the bag from his hand, she offered him a warm smile, her heart swelling at the gesture. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you,” she said, her voice gentle as she tried to keep her smile in check, not wanting to make him feel any more uncomfortable. “But it’s fine. I have an IUD.”
“Oh…” His eyes widened slightly, and she could see the relief wash over him, mingled with something else—something deeper. “That’s… That’s good to know.”
She couldn’t resist the pull she felt toward him, the magnetic connection that seemed to draw them closer with every passing second. Standing on her toes, she placed her palms on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. Her lips met his in a soft, tender kiss, meant to reassure him, to show him how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness.
But the moment their lips touched, the atmosphere shifted. Gone was the shyness, the hesitation. In its place was the same raw, unbridled hunger that had consumed them the night before. He responded to her kiss with an intensity that took her breath away, his hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her against him as if he couldn’t bear the distance between them.
The kiss deepened, and the world around them faded into extinction. There was no awkwardness, no uncertainty—only the undeniable connection that burned between them. She felt his hands tighten around her, anchoring her in place as if afraid she might slip away, and her heart swelled with a mixture of emotions she couldn’t quite name.
Leaning forward, he pressed her back against the cabinets, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the heat building between them. With a swift, effortless motion, he lifted her onto the counter, her breath catching as she felt the cold, solid surface beneath her. His hands found their place on her thighs, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill through her body. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers weaving through his hair as if she could anchor herself to him in the whirlwind of sensation.
He broke the kiss, his lips lingering just a breath away from hers, as his eyes drifted down to where his hands rested on her thighs. Slowly, deliberately, he began to glide his hands upward, the rough pads of his fingers igniting a trail of fire on her skin.
“You know, Little Viper,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, as his eyes trailed back up to her face. Her damp lips parted slightly, and she could see the hunger in his gaze, the desire that mirrored her own. “I think I know how you bring your opponents to their knees.”
Before she could even form a question, he knelt before her, the sudden movement making her heart race. A grin spread across his face as he gently lifted her legs, draping them over his shoulders. She bit her lip, anticipation and desire swirling in her chest as he lowered his gaze, his eyes darkening with lust.
When he looked back up at her, the intensity in his eyes made her shiver. Without hesitation, he leaned in, his breath hot against her as he took in the sight of her glistening wetness. The moment his tongue flicked out, tracing a line from her entrance all the way up, she gasped, her head falling back against the cabinet with a soft thud.
“Fuck,” he breathed, the word a hushed reverence as he licked his lips, savoring her taste. “You taste so good, Little Viper.”
His words sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she couldn’t hold back the moan that slipped from her lips. His hands tightened on her thighs, holding her steady
as he dove back in, his tongue exploring her with a fervor that left her trembling. Each stroke, each swirl, was precise, designed to drive her wild, and she felt herself unraveling with every touch.
He pushed her legs back, his grip firm on her thighs, holding her open and vulnerable as he buried his head between her legs. The sensation of his breath against her sensitive skin sent shivers down her spine, anticipation coiling in her belly. Her head rolled back, her eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traced a slow, deliberate path through her center, each stroke teasing and coaxing her closer to the edge. He circled her clit, the touch light and tantalizing, making her hips arch off the counter in a desperate attempt for more.
He saw her need, her urgency, and with a wicked smile, he obliged. This time, his tongue moved with purpose, slipping deeper into her heat, tasting her fully. Her moan echoed in the room, a sound that only fueled his actions.
He was relentless, his mouth working her over with a skill that left her breathless, her body arching off the counter as waves of pleasure washed over her. She tightened her grip on his hair, the sensation of his tongue pushing her closer and closer to the edge. His name slipped from her lips in a whisper, a plea, as she felt the tension coiling tighter in her belly.
His hand, warm and possessive, stroked its way down her thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He reveled in the way her body responded to him, how every touch seemed to ignite a new fire within her. His finger found her entrance, circling it teasingly as his mouth continued its relentless assault on her clit, drawing out breathless gasps and soft whimpers from her lips.
With a deft movement, he slipped his middle finger into her. He twisted his wrist, curling his finger upward, finding that spot deep within her that made her breath catch and her body tense. He stroked her from the inside, slow at first, savoring the way she clenched around him, the way her body instinctively moved with him, seeking more.
In and out, again and again, he worked his finger, each thrust deliberate, precise. Her wetness coated him, proof of her arousal, to how deeply she wanted him. His teeth grazed her clit, a teasing nip that made her gasp, and he added another finger, stretching her further. The combination of his fingers inside her, his mouth on her, was too much, too intense, and she felt herself hurtling toward the edge.
She knew he could sense it, the way her body tightened, the way her breath quickened, and he didn’t let up. He continued fucking her with his fingers, his mouth relentless on her clit, until he felt her body seize beneath him. Her muscles tensed, her thighs trembling in his grip.
And through it all, he remained focused, his own pleasure evident in the way he devoured her, his moans vibrating against her most sensitive spots. And as her
orgasm crashed through her, she cried out, the sound echoing in the space.
He didn’t stop, not even as she shuddered and quaked beneath him, prolonging her pleasure until she was a trembling, breathless mess. Only then did he finally pull back, his lips slick with her arousal, and look up at her with a satisfied grin, his eyes full of something that made her heart skip a beat.
His fingers slipping from her, his mouth trailing one last, soft kiss along her inner thigh. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with satisfaction. She met his gaze, her breath still coming in ragged gasps, and she knew in that moment that he had unraveled her completely. There was no going back, no hiding from the depth of the connection they shared. He had claimed her in the most intimate way possible, and she had given herself to him, fully and without reservation.
He rose to his feet, the movement slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second of the moment they had just shared. Her breath rushed as she watched him wipe her wetness from his lips with the pad of his thumb, his eyes locked on hers with a dark intensity. When he licked it off with a deliberate swipe of his tongue, her body clenched with need, every nerve alight with the desperate desire to feel him again. All she could think about was having him bend her over the counter, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her back into him while his other hand tangled in her hair, claiming her with the same relentless passion he had just shown.
But before she could even give voice to the thought, the shrill ring of her phone shattered the moment, yanking her violently back to reality.
What a way to fucking spoil the moment.
The abruptness of it left her dizzy, her pulse still racing as she slipped off the counter, her body protesting the loss of his warmth. She rushed to grab the phone, her irritation bubbling over as she answered without checking who it was.
“This better be important,” she snapped, her voice laced with the frustration of being pulled away from the edge of something incredible.
“Sloan, where the hell are you?” Melissa’s shrill voice cut through the line, instantly setting her teeth on edge. “Everyone is supposed to be at the official launch site at seven.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Panic surged through her veins, replacing the desire that had been coursing through her just moments before. How the hell had she let this happen? Well, she knew exactly how. But still, it shouldn’t have. Not today, of all days.
“I’ll be there in ten,” she barked, her mind racing as she scanned the room for her discarded clothes. The lie slipped out before she could even think twice. “I needed to, uh, run some last tests before tomorrow.” She didn’t wait for Melissa’s response, too focused on finding her underwear and jeans.
The call ended with a sharp click, and she tossed the phone aside, her heart pounding with anxiety and lingering arousal.
Her underwear was nowhere to be found, and after a quick, frantic search, she decided to hell with it. Hopping on one foot, she tried to wrangle her jeans on, her movements hurried and awkward. She could feel Scorpion’s eyes on her, and when she glanced up, she found him staring at her with an incredulous look.
“I’m late for work,” she explained, her voice breathless as she slid her boots on and grabbed her bag. She knew she must look like a mess—her hair still tousled from his fingers, his shirt hanging loosely off her shoulders, and the telltale flush of their earlier activities still coloring her cheeks. But there was no time to care. She was already out the door, halfway to a full-blown panic.
“Need me to drive you home?” he offered, his tone casual, but the sly smile on his lips betrayed his amusement. His eyes traveled over her body, taking in the sight of her hastily dressed state, and she could see the flicker of something more in his gaze—something possessive, almost proud.
She paused, her frustration softening for just a moment as she turned back to him. Despite the chaos she felt inside, she couldn’t help the warmth that spread through her chest at the sight of him, standing there so relaxed, so at ease. With a quick kiss, she tried to convey a
mix of gratitude and regret for leaving so suddenly.
“I’ll grab a Cruze to work, but thank you,” she said, her words hurried as she turned toward the door again. Just as she was about to leave, she called over her shoulder, “And thanks for lending me your shirt.”
She barely caught his low chuckle before the door closed behind her, the sound lingering in her mind as she rushed down the stairs. The memory of his touch, his taste, clung to her, making it difficult to focus on anything but him.
She took the stairs two at a time, her heartbeat echoing in her ears as she frantically ordered a Cruze. By the time she burst through the side door and onto the street, she was breathless, her mind racing just as fast as her pulse. A quick glance at her reflection in a nearby window confirmed what she already knew—she looked like hell. But there was no time to care.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she tracked the Cruze’s location on her phone, each second feeling like an eternity. She could see the little icon inching closer, and she headed to the corner of the street to wait for her ride, hoping the fresh air might calm the chaos inside her.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. The Hyundai pulled up, barely coming to a stop before she yanked the door open and jumped into the back seat. She directed the driver to the launch venue, her voice clipped and hurried, trying to convey the urgency without giving away the anxiety that churned in her gut.
The venue—a gritty, industrial warehouse—fit the
theme of the street-fighting game perfectly, its raw, urban aesthetic a stark contrast to the polished corporate events she was used to. At least she was already in the industrial area; that was one small mercy in an otherwise disastrous morning.
As the car lurched forward, she leaned back in the seat and let out a shaky breath, her mind racing through everything that still needed to be done. She could feel the tension in her shoulders, the responsibility pressing down on her, but she forced herself to focus on what she could control.
With a sigh, she reached into her backpack and pulled out her emergency makeup bag, silently thanking her past self for the foresight. The ride was bumpy, the car jostling over every pothole and crack in the road.
Once her makeup was in place, she ran her fingers through her tangled hair, wincing as she hit a few knots.
She tugged Scorpion’s shirt from where it hung loose on her shoulders and tucked it neatly into her jeans, trying to give the impression that she had at least attempted to put herself together this morning. As she did, his scent wafted up from the fabric, leather, cedar, and something uniquely him. Without thinking, she brought the shirt closer to her nose, inhaling deeply, and for a moment, she was back in his arms, the world outside forgotten.
But reality crashed back in as the warehouse came
into view. The car rolled to a stop, and she forced herself to focus, pushing thoughts of Scorpion to the back of her mind. There would be time to process everything later—right now, she had a job to do.
She straightened up, smoothed her shirt one last time, and steeled herself. As she stepped out of the car, she could still feel his presence, lingering like a ghost on her skin, in the scent of his shirt, in the memory of his touch.
Her heart pounded in her chest, as she stalked toward the double roll-up steel doors. The cool morning air did nothing to quell the heat still simmering under her skin. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts—of the launch, of the responsibilities that awaited her, of the man she had just left behind. But before she could make it inside, Melissa came charging at her.
“Melissa, it’s way too fucking early in the morning. What is it?” she demanded, her voice sharp and unforgiving. She didn’t even bother with pleasantries; she was too wired, too on edge to play nice.
“You’re late, that’s what,” Melissa snapped back, tapping her stylus impatiently on the tablet in her hands, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.
“I told you I had shit to do,” she shot back, her patience already wearing thin. “Besides, last I checked, you’re not the company’s CEO.” She pushed past her, not in the mood for a confrontation, not when she had so much else to deal with. But Melissa’s next words stopped her in her tracks, cutting through the morning air like a
knife.
“You reek of sex and desperation,” Melissa cackled, her voice venom.
For a moment, the world went still. The words hung in the air, taunting her, daring her to respond. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from a surge of anger that burned through her like wildfire. Slowly, she turned to face Melissa, every movement deliberate, controlled. Her lips curled into a sly smirk, and she arched an eyebrow, her gaze locking onto Melissa’s with an intensity that made the other woman falter.
“Funny,” she began with mock sweetness, “I didn’t think you even knew what sex was. You know, with plastic dolls not being anatomically correct and all that.”
The words were delivered with a lethal precision, each one a well-aimed jab that struck its target. She watched as Melissa’s smug expression wavered, a flicker of something—anger, embarrassment, maybe even hurt—crossing her face. It was fleeting, but it was there, and it gave her a small, savage sense of satisfaction.
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and strode into the warehouse.
The space inside was dimly lit, the soft glow of overhead lights casting dancing shadows on the concrete floor. Towering shelves lined the walls, stacked with crates and boxes reaching toward the ceiling.
In the organized chaos, technicians hurried about,
adjusting equipment and setting up stations for the event. Massive screens hung from the rafters, displaying promotional footage of the game in action while the distant hum of electronics filled the air.
On the other side of the warehouse, a stage took shape. Its platform rose from the floor like a monolith, and rows of chairs were arranged neatly in front of it, ready for an audience. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sharp tang of metal and machinery, immediately drawing Poison to the coffee.
Pouring herself a cup, she turned to find Topaz heading her way. Patiently, she waited, taking a sip of liquid courage.
“Sloan,” he barked when he was within earshot, but she raised her mug to him and took another sip. “You’re late. Why would you pick today of all days to be late?”
Lazily, she glanced at her watch. “I’m not even fifteen minutes late. Would have been ten if it weren’t for the Chihuahua stopping me at the door.”
She tilted her head toward Melissa who was on his heels and could have sworn her boss was fighting the urge to smile.
“Talk me through it?” he asked, her tardiness forgotten.
She placed a plastic lid on her coffee cup and walked Topaz around the vast ground floor.
“The stage, lighting, and sound systems are being set up. The promo videos on the screens will be running throughout the night.” She pointed at the screens scattered across the ceilings.
“The guys are setting up a hundred PCs for the influencers to test the game, and up there,” she pointed to a loft in the west corner. “Is where the celebrities and investors will be able to look down on everyone.”
Topaz smiled, oblivious to the snide comment. Despite her hating being among the Normals, she couldn’t help but feel proud of what she had accomplished with Shadow Strike —even though none of them had any idea that she based the entire premise of the game on her own life.
“And the interface is ready for tomorrow?”
“Yes, sir. We ran all the tests to ensure a smooth experience for all the gamers.
“Good. We cannot afford anything to go wrong.” And the look on Topaz’s face said it all: if something went wrong, it would be all her fault.