8. Hyacinth
EIGHT
HYACINTH
I thought Zane would refuse to leave the house after I’d sent him his friend’s hand.
Actually, I thought he would have stayed home after the first assassination attempt, and that I would be forced to wait another month before I’d get a second—or third—chance to murder him.
Dante and Forest both became recluses for a month after attempts on their lives. Zane has no such survival instincts. He’s led me all through New Valence this morning, and I’m getting seriously bored of watching him do the kind of shopping I thought an assistant would do.
Dante and Forest’s tailor comes to the manor to get them fitted. Avery orders online. I rely on Chrys for my clothes. My younger brother Lionel might be the only one in the family who shops at physical stores these days, but nobody ever accused Lionel of having good taste.
I can’t slip into the stores to see what Zane is buying because he does stick to the higher end clothing stores, and a few times, I wonder if he’s caught sight of me.
He doesn’t stop, though. I don’t relax, but I do start thinking of ways to get closer to him without his bodyguard getting his hands on me.
It’s times like this when I think that it’d be easier if I preferred guns or bombs.
I can use a gun. I’ve sniped a few of my targets over the years. But it’s less fun than watching them bleed out in front of me. If I’m going to kill them, I should have the decency to share their dying breath, right?
But even if I was in the mood to shoot Zane Vilani from afar, I wouldn’t get an opportunity to do it here. It’s too busy, the angles are bad, and there’s no easy way to shoot somebody without drawing too much attention.
There’s no point in taking out Zane if it brings law enforcement down on my family.
I would look terrible in an orange jumpsuit.
It’s late afternoon by now, and the clouds are thicker in the sky. The wind and humidity let me know that the downpour is on its way.
I should give up for today.
My mind starts to wander, and I lick my lips as I think about the way his face had looked when I’d gotten the whip around his throat. He’d looked offended more than anything at one point, like he couldn’t believe I’d had the audacity to make an attempt on his life.
And disappointed, too.
He hadn’t been the only one wishing he’d bent me over the bed and whipped me bloody.
I blink, realizing that in my reminiscence, I’ve lost track of him.
Fuck.
What is wrong with me?
I’m a professional. I revel in this. I’d had so much fun taking out that biker the other night.
Taunting Zane with his dismembered hand had been the best part, of course.
And the phone call. Hearing Zane’s dominant voice, trying so hard to remain cold but seething with anger beneath the surface, trying to negotiate with me—
I’d suggested the date only to throw him off his game. But he’d taken it as a serious offer.
He didn’t want to be seen in public with me though.
That’s why no matter what Zane Vilani might be able to do with a whip, or how he looks when he’s pissed off, I’d never be interested in him.
Also, the whole hired-to-murder-him thing.
I walk down the street, keeping an eye out for where Zane could have gone. He’s not still in the last shop he went into, but his car is parked on the corner. The only potential exit is a small side street.
If he’s not there, I’m going home.
I deserve a hot bath and a night in. Stalking is hard work.
I turn into the street, but I don’t see anything but shadows. I take a few more steps in even though it’s ridiculous to think that Zane might be lying in wait in this small alley.
Except something — someone — crashes into me, shoving me against the damp wall and putting a hand over my mouth. “There you are,” Zane’s familiar voice purrs.
Fuck.
I inhale, and I get that scent of incoming rain and Zane’s cologne. His pupils are wide, and his nostrils flare.
Is he smelling me, too? Does my perfume remind him of the first time we’d seen each other in the flesh?
I open my mouth and lick the palm of his hand.
A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “Oh, is that what you want?” he taunts. “I could give you something better to lick, Sin.”
That silly nickname doesn’t sound silly coming from his lips.
It sounds like a promise.
I can definitely be all of his sins.
I grin into his palm—then kick his shin as hard as I can.
He grunts, his hold loosening on me and his hand falling away from my mouth, but despite the pain in his expression, he doesn’t let me go completely.
“I don’t think so,” he says, the words like a caress.
He shoves me back against the wall, his fingers digging into my skin.
His eyes search mine, and he murmurs in that calm way of his, “You killed Colt. You think I’m going to look the other way?
Let you go about your merry way until you figure out a way to get to me, too? ”
What will it take to provoke him into showing the rage I know is simmering beneath the surface?
“Colt? Was that his name?” I grin at him. “I relished his struggles. His screams. Did he scream as much for you as he did for me?”
There it is.
Zane’s expression turns dark, showing me that beautiful rage.
His grip tightens on my upper arms, and he braces his knee against me to keep me pinned against the wall.
“You weren’t hired to go after anyone around me,” he says, and I relish the threat of violence in his voice that has the coldness. “Why risk it?”
Why risk it?
Because looking at Colt had made my fingers itch. My head had grown fuzzy with an inexplicable anger.
I’d known he’d had to die.
There’s no other reason for it.
“I felt like it,” I answer. I lick my lips. “Why? Did he mean something to you? Are you going to miss fucking him?”
Zane’s eyes narrow. “So what if I am? What, are you jealous?”
Jealous.
No.
I can’t be jealous.
Zane is hot, yes, but he’s no different from any other of the mafia men who surround me: deeply closeted and ashamed.
I don’t need somebody like that.
I’m never going to care about anyone enough to get jealous ever again.
“Of course not,” I say with a vicious laugh. “But I do enjoy making you suffer. The longer you evade me, the more I’ll need to go after those around you… Maybe I should go after Genevieve next?”
“Try it,” he dares me. “If you have a fucking death wish. Which…” He looks me up and down. “You might, if you keep coming at me like this. Tell me, Sin. Is that really why you’re wanting to get up close and personal? You want someone to wring your pretty little neck? I could do that for you.”
I imagine it—Zane’s hand around my neck, denying me air, making me gasp. Emptying my mind of anything but the pain and the sex and the absolute high.
No, no.
I’m not doing that with anyone again, and definitely not with Zane.
I’d almost forgotten why this is all such a bad idea. I should thank Forest for reminding me.
I smile, though. “As if you could ever manage to subdue me, Zane.”
Then I take the knife from the hidden pocket at the bottom of my blouse and slice it across Zane’s stomach.
It parts his shirt easily, and a beautiful line of red appears on his skin.
He swears, letting go of one of my shoulders to grab my wrist. He twists it painfully until I’m forced to drop the blade, and I’m reminded of the first time I’d tried to kill him. If his bodyguard hadn’t interrupted, what would’ve happened?
“Where’s your babysitter?” I taunt him.
Zane huffs out a laugh. “Close.”
“He’s going to be so mad. Maybe I should kill him next?” I drive my knee upward and into his groin.
He grunts, turning his body so that he doesn’t take the blow full-on. He still hunches over, letting me slip free from his fingers.
A few drops of water hit my nose. It’s barely a warning before the entire sky opens up, and the rain pours down on us.
I should escape.
I should kill him.
I get my fingers around my garotte. While Zane is down, I can slice him up.
But I hesitate.
It’s a bad place for a murder.
Clean-up would be even worse than it had been for Colt.
His bodyguard is somewhere nearby.
I can claim any excuse I want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I wait too long to make a decision.
He gets his hands on me again, and this time, he shoves me down onto the ground.
I scramble to get up, but he gets his knee on my back, and I don’t have the leverage to throw him off. He grabs my wrists and jerks them back.
I struggle, yet it does nothing to prevent him from zip-tying my wrists together behind my back.
He releases my hands, and they fall to my back, where I can feel the plastic digging into my skin. Then he grabs my hair and forces me up onto my knees. Pebbles and who knows what else dig into my skin through my ruined skirt.
My cock is prominently hard under the soaked fabric. My hair clings to the sides of my face. The blouse, carefully designed to flatter my form, is now bunched up and ruined.
“Why are you such an addiction, Sin?” he murmurs, his fingers winding through my damp hair and twisting. “What did you do to get into my head like this? I should snap your neck right now.”
“Do it,” I taunt. “Kill me here. Show me your vision.” I try to shake off his hand. “But you’ll never get me out of your head. I’m going to linger for the rest of your life. You’ll always wonder what you missed out on.”
“Oh? And what am I missing out on? Because so far, I only see a brat who can’t even do his job,” Zane says with a dark laugh. “A brat who needs to be kept on his knees.”
Yes.
My mouth parts in a moan, the sound drowned out by the rain.
I could kneel for him, and suck his cock, and worship at his feet, and it would be glorious.
Fuck. I can’t do that.
Forest wants him dead. My reputation as an assassin is on the line.
And I remember what happened the last time I’d submitted to someone.
“I’ll never be chained again,” I growl. I curl my fingers into my palms, scoring my own skin with my nails.
“Again,” he repeats. I can’t make out his expression through the rain. “Oh, but Sin… You haven’t been chained by me. Don’t you want to see, even for a night, what that would be like for you? Call it a truce, a ceasefire. See what you think when I’m done with you.”
“You can’t handle me,” I repeat, but even I can hear the yearning in my voice.
“Can’t I, though?” He twists his fingers harder in my hair, then he shoves my face directly against the front of his trousers. I can feel the swell of his cock there, half-hard.
I lick my lips, and against all judgment, I nuzzle his crotch.
Idiot, a voice that sounds far too much like Forest says in my mind.
What does Forest know, though? He never understood.
Zane undoes his belt with one hand and draws out his cock. I shiver in anticipation when I see it. It’s thick, not as long as—
I halt my thoughts.
I’m not comparing it to his.
It’s hard to make out the exact details, but I know that it’ll be a mouthful.
My mouth drops open, and I dart my tongue out to lick the head of his cock. Zane’s grip on my hair tightens as the taste of salt teases my tongue.
“Fuck,” I hear him mutter, but instead of pulling away, he drags my head closer, forcing more of him past my lips. “Suck it like you mean it.”
I groan and open my mouth wider. His cock is hot and hard on my tongue, a sharp contrast to the cool rain pelting down on us. I flex my arms, but I’m trapped now, unable to fight back.
I shouldn’t want this.
It would be so easy to bite down and leave him incapacitated long enough to escape.
Instead, I suck harder, tracing every ridge and vein with my tongue so I can memorize this.
Memorize his taste, his smell, the sensation of his hands on my hair, forcing me to choke on him.
He shoves his cock deeper and deeper into my mouth, until he’s hitting the back of my throat. “Swallow,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Take it all.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to protest, instead thrusting until he’s buried within my throat to the root past my lips with my nose pressed against his pubic hair.
My eyes roll to the back of my head, and I hum with contentment.
All I can do is take him. I swallow and revel in Zane’s dominance. The rain pours down on us, but my entire core is overheated.
My cock is achingly hard, too, but I ignore it.
My pleasure doesn’t matter.
The only thing that matters is Zane.
He lingers there for a moment before pulling back enough to let me draw a breath, then he shoves back into my throat. Over and over, again and again, until his fingers tighten in my hair and he groans.
Then he’s spilling over my tongue, and I swallow down every drop of him.
I keep sucking him through his orgasm, until he goes soft and he pulls out of my mouth. I glance up, my vision hazy from pleasure and the rain alike.
Zane releases my hair, breathing heavily as he leans against the wall behind him. His expression is blissed-out, and his eyes are heavy-lidded in the wake of his pleasure.
Even with the rain soaking him through, he’s handsome. Dangerous.
Everything I could want.
Zane looks like a god.
I part my lips and lick them.
“I could do so much more,” Zane murmurs after a pause, reaching down to trace my lips with his finger.
“But as long as you’re trying to kill me…
” He lets the words hang in the air between us as he tucks away his cock and zips up his pants.
“I’m the only one who gets pleasure. I deserve it, after all.
Never know if an orgasm will be my last.”
Right.
Fuck.
I lean forward, letting my hair hang in front of my face. “You’ll never be able to do more,” I hiss. “Because you’re a coward.”
I withdraw the razor from the hidden pocket at the back of my skirt, and I use it to cut the ziptie on my wrist. I stay as I am, though, kneeling and with my head bowed.
“Coward?” Zane echoes. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a coward.” He shoves me hard.
I grunt as I land against the soaked concrete. Zane reaches for me again, but I scramble away. His eyes widen when he realizes I’m no longer bound.
“I know you’re a coward,” I spit. “But it’s fine.” I smile and stick my hands into my skirt pocket. My erection is already waning, doused not by rain but by the reminder of who Zane really is. “I’ll kill you next time.”
His lips twist into a mocking smile. “Will you now? I might be a coward, but at least I’m not a failure.”
Anger flares up inside me, but I refuse to let him know he’s affected me. I smile back. “I killed your friend. He had how many pounds on me? Not bad, I’d say.” I glance behind Zane. “And look, there’s your babysitter. He definitely doesn’t stand a chance against me.”
Zane’s head snaps around, and as he scans the rain-slick street for his bodyguard, I get up and run.
I wait for Zane to call out for me, but he doesn’t.
Too ashamed to let his bodyguard know what he’d just done.
Too much of a coward.
I circle around the block to my car and get in. I’m filthy, and I’m ruining the upholstery, but that doesn’t matter.
I rest my forehead on the steering wheel, then I reach up to trace my swollen lips.
Fuck.
I can’t do this.
I can’t let anyone own me again.
No matter how fucking hot he’d been.