29. Maeve
MAEVE
“Not now.”
“I think now is the perfect time,” he says easily. Crossing his arms, I’m distracted by the expanse of inked skin under his shirt. “Did you know?”
Hands on my hips, I pace the office, glaring up at the ceiling. “That Reese was a plant? No.”
“But you suspected.”
Growling, I throw my hands out. “I suspected something. You actually pointed it out.” At his raised brow, I continue, “You said who would leave a woman on a lunch date? I figured it was you being a pissy pain-in-the-ass. But it stuck with me.”
You look better if you cry.
Killian smirks, nodding. “I was, but I’m glad I still helped.”
“He pushed for that place. And then he said—” my voice cuts off. He seemed concerned with the change-up after the date in the city. But when he brought me home, he insisted on me staying for over two hours.
Then, he was there at the Wharf.
You could never lead.
“Murray must have told Bruno,” I say, rubbing my chin.
“He must have told him about Reese. Reese has to be on Bruno’s payroll.
” He’s playing both sides—sending information to his master while giving details to the Board.
“That fucking asshole was at the storeroom—“ He didn’t let Bruno in, but was looking out. He’s the link, the connection between everything.
I kick my heel into the side of my desk, denting the heavy wood. Ragged breaths fall from my lips.
“I never fucking saw it.”
Such a weak fucking girl.
Strong hands grab me, but I lash out. Clipping Killian on the chin, his head snaps back, and pain stings my fingers.
I don’t feel guilty. In fact, I’m pissed.
“Don’t touch me,” I breathe, eyes narrowed.
Killian pats his lip, a cut running along the edge of it. When his soulless eyes look back at me, I don’t see irritation—but black hunger.
“You’re in your head,” he says quietly, controlled. “The voices are getting loud. And you think you’re failing.”
“I am failing.” I ready another punch, but he bats it away, throwing my arm back. “It’s my job to protect the clan. To see ahead. To always think of everyone else. And I couldn’t see the guy I was dating was a fucking dirty cop—someone working for the Board?”
What does that say about my judgment? I’m not fit to lead.
Pathetic and weak.
I swing again, but this time Killian ducks, throwing a jab back at my chin. Avoiding it, I twist, only for him to grab me around the middle. Lifted high, I kick and growl, a possessed cat striking out at a friendly hand.
“Fine. You’re pissed. Be pissed,” he grunts, lips to my ear. Tossing me on the desk, he cages me in, chest to my back. “But I told you not to hit me again unless you wanted me to fuck you raw and watch the attitude leak out of you when I’m done.”
“Go to hell.”
“Only with you,” he returns. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he hauls me up, hand to my stomach. “You want to fight, Princess? We’ll fight my way. Safe word, now.”
Scoffing, I elbow him. “You think I want sex right now?”
“I think you need a way to banish the ghosts.” Those fingers move lower, and as much as I want to cut his heart out of his chest, I grow fucking wet. “And we both know being fucked until you can’t remember your own name always worked before. I’m betting it still works.”
“You can’t possibly know?—”
“Tell me I don’t know you again,” he dares. “Go ahead.”
I swallow, the look of dark fury swirling around us. Killian does know me—that’s what’s pissing me off. He knows what I need to banish the ghosts, and he’s willing to help. I’m too fucking stubborn to give in.
His fingers hook on the band of my leggings, splattered in blood from the torture session. “I’m not going to be gentle. Safe word.”
“I don’t fucking want you,” I hiss, stomping my foot on his boot. It does little good.
He throws me forward, and my hands slap the desk.
“Liar.”
Those skilled fingers grab my ass, and I moan, despite myself. Chuckling, he tugs the fabric, and then air hits my flesh.
Glaring over my shoulder, he waves his knife at me, a smirk lining his face. My leggings are in shreds on the floor, my bare ass hanging out. He cut through my panties, too.
Quietly, he runs his hand over one cheek, kneading the other. “Fucking perfect,” he says, reverently. “Jesus, fuck, Maeve, give me the damn safe word. Please.”
The fight leaks out of me as he rubs my flesh, marveling at the softness of it. Lowering his lips to my shoulder, he tastes my skin, moaning as he moves.
I should stop this—and think. Reese knows too much, and Ronan is out there. He’s hunting me, waiting for a moment to take me out. What if he goes after my family—what about their safety? Everything rides on me being an effective captain.
But with his hands on me, the voices stop. The self-doubt flees. The demons, who paralyze me and keep me up all night, run away at the thought of battling the Reaper who would kneel for me. Who would set the world on fire for me—only to stand back and let my rage consume everything.
I can’t bring myself to give that up yet.
Cradling against me, his touch turns hard, punishing. It’s the right kind of counterpressure I need to focus.
You’re weak.
“Stay with me,” he breathes, as if he knows how my mind has turned. The ghosts are threatening to intervene. “Safe word, Princess. I need it. Please give it to me.”
He’s begging me, and it’s a powerful draw. More powerful than the doubt, than the voices. Than the fear.
“Who are you to me?”
He swallows, pausing, his heat searing my back. Carefully, he leans down, our eyes meeting over stuttering breaths.
“Yours,” he murmurs, watching my mouth. “I have been and will always be yours, Princess. Every horrible part of me is yours—for as long as you’ll have me.
It’s not much, but whatever I have is yours.
Just like this,” he says, tapping my forehead, then over my heart.
“Belongs to me. The ghosts can’t have you—I won’t let them. ”
Closing his eyes, he begs, “Please, Maeve. Please.”
My heart soars even as my pussy flutters. “Mors.”
He hauls me up with a firm grip on my neck, back bowed. The sound of his zipper has anticipation coursing through my veins. Strong, warm fingers cut into my throat as he crushes my hip. Leveraging me, his cock nudges my entrance, and I whimper.
“There it is,” he murmurs. “The noise that haunts my dreams.”
Smiling, I rest against him, pushing the taunts away. Slowly, he teases me, not quite entering me. Nails rake his forearm as I pull him closer, his heart beating furiously through me.
“Tell me again.”
“I’m yours,” he vows. “I’ve always only been yours, Princess.”
Slamming into me, I moan, fighting the pain. Held immobile, I’m nothing to be used by him. But like this, I know I’m cherished, that the worries can’t get me with the Reaper surrounding me.
His thrusts are hard, powerful, and I gasp with each withdrawal. He’s not gentle. He bites my shoulder, teeth sinking deep, and his nails claw into my neck. I accept it. The pain grounds me, brings back my confidence, as I melt into his type of damage.
Throwing me forward, he yanks my hips higher, driving deeper. Over and over, I’m lost to the spiking pain and ebbing pleasure. Outside my body, I completely surrender to Killian and pray it’s enough to keep me whole.
“Tell me again,” I pant, orgasm building. He goes harder, the desk biting into my stomach. I don’t dare say the safe word—I need the pain to feel alive. I need to hear Killian Linwood is mine.
“I’m fucking yours,” he says behind gritted teeth. “Now, call me a good boy, and I’ll keep reminding you I’m yours, Princess. Until the day we fucking die.”
I’m on the edge. “Good boy, Pup.”
I lose it, screaming his name. Blinding pleasure rips through me, stealing all noise, and my lungs burn with my exhale.
He falters, growling into my back, nails cutting my sides.
He bruises me as he holds me tight and empties inside.
Warmth fills me, and I drop, forehead to the desk, him collapsing on top of me.
Here, his scent, his heat on me, the demons don’t bother to attack. I’m at peace—and my confidence rises.
Gently turning my head, he kisses my lips softly. Brushing hair from my face, he looks at me like I’m art to be studied—a portrait on display. Maybe to the Reaper I am—something cherished. Something important.
“How are they now?”
“Quiet,” I admit.
He nuzzles my neck. “Good. And what are we going to do?”
We. Not me—but us. Further proof he’s going to stay.
Lying there, dripping from where we’re still connected, I sigh. I wait for the voices, but their taunts don’t come. It’s silent.
“I’m going to destroy all of them,” I promise darkly. “And I’m going to be the fucking captain I always meant to be.”
Smiling like the wraith that haunts children’s dreams, he exhales loudly. “There she is.” Pressing a kiss to my temple, I feel his delight. “Burn them all, Princess.”