Epilogue #2
They disperse, and Killian tugs me toward my SUV. In the far back, overlooking the grave plots, my eyes catch on a black shadow leaning against a large tomb. Without seeing the face, I recognize the shape, the silhouette.
Sighing, I glare at Killian. “Briar is still in town.”
He shrugs. “You can’t make him leave.”
“Watch me.”
“Princess,” he drawls, lifting my hand to his lips. “Later. No one knows he’s here for now. And we have other things to take care of.”
His soft lips drag across my knuckles, and my core clenches. It’s not fair how easily my body responds to him—how safe it feels in this murderer’s arms.
“And what if someone discovers he’s here?”
“I’ll handle it.” He slides a hand across my hip and presses us close, bodies intertwined. “But first? The boyfriend.”
Rolling my eyes, I step toward the street. “I really hate that you call him that. What will I call you if he has that title?”
Killian laughs, trailing after me. “I’m not your boyfriend, Princess. I’m your fucking ending. Not some pretty boy in a sweater, I’m the one who owns your soul. That’s the only title I’ll need.”
The sun is setting as I walk the bottom floor of the club. Glass still litters the floor, crunching under each step. The music is off, the bar abandoned. No guards perched in the corners. Completely desolate.
Just the way I need it.
Entering the office above Lex’s club feels surreal. I hardly came to this spot—the clan’s spies always watched it—but on the off chance I could sneak in, I would meet Nico here before the activities began.
It smells like him: wood polish, aftershave, and the faintest trace of his brand of tobacco. But I see Lex’s influence: family photos on the desk, an ultrasound by the books. Things that remind me of the changes I’ve instigated.
Reese sits in the center of the dark room, tied to a chair. His thigh, where I stabbed him, is wrapped in a blood bandage and I tsk.
“I forgot the capo doesn’t like blood on his floors.”
Stalking around him, I lean against the desk. Long black boots, a short skirt, and a black blouse; this is as me as Reese has ever witnessed. Gone is the girl I thought I had to be in society—demure, conservative—I’m who I’ve always been.
A plight in this world and nothing less. Just as Killian reminds me.
Gliding around the chair, Killian pushes his head away, twirling his blade in his hand. “He’s very particular about them. Odd issue.”
“Congealed blood doesn’t turn him on like it does you, Pup.”
He winks. “True. It’s so beautiful, though.”
Spitting on the floor, my victim glares at me. “So, this is the true captain of the clan, huh? Short skirts and witty banter?” He rolls his eyes. “If you hadn’t stabbed me, I’d think you were all talk.”
Killian growls under his breath, but I smile.
“You don’t think I’m scary?”
He scoffs. “Please. You’re a little girl playing dress-up in her father’s clothes. How have you built a reputation as some sadistic fucker, when you haven’t done shit?”
Pointedly, I look at his leg. “You’ve heard of my reputation?”
Reese snorts. “A reputation that doesn’t seem to fit the person, sorry to say.”
I glance over to the Reaper and sigh, as if annoyed. I’m really not. “Looks like I’ll have to rectify this.” A slow smirk curves across my face. “Want to help?”
His blade glints in the dim lighting. “Say the word. I’ll hand you the knife.”
“I have a better idea.”
I start to unbutton my shirt, and Killian snaps, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Reese—much to my displeasure—shifts, uncomfortable and intrigued. Good. I want this to be as confusing as possible before I get my revenge.
“Making good on your promise.” The shirt slips off my shoulders, vibrant, purple lacy bra exposed to the still air. The Reaper’s breath comes out angrily, his fingers fisting.
“What promise?”
“Come here.” I curl my finger, and like a good pup, he glides to my side. Without asking, he turns so his body blocks me from Reese’s hungry gaze.
Leaning close, I twirl the gold chain between my fingers, tugging him closer. “Am I yours?”
“Yes,” he snaps.
“Are you mine?”
He exhales harshly. “Yes.”
“Then trust me.”
A muscle bunches by his ear, but he nods. “Always.”
Under his dark gaze, I slip my skirt over my hips, baring my matching thong and his marks. His eyes fasten on them, lust and devotion swimming in his black eyes.
Running my hands over his chest, I lift my chin. “Kiss me.”
The words barely leave my lips before he crushes me in his grip, hauling me as close as he can. I’m sure it’s a way to soothe his heart, trying to force us together as if we’re two broken halves looking to rejoin.
His tongue is wicked, sliding between my lips.
He tastes like he does everything—with dominance and confidence.
His nails cut into my hips before one hand grabs my head, knotting my hair to move me the way he wants.
A soft moan leaves my mouth, and he surges closer, as if to steal it.
Everything I have, he wants—my safeguard in troubling times.
Pulling back, he nibbles on my bottom lip. “You kiss me like that again, and I’m going to fuck you on this desk.”
“That’s the plan.”
At his surprised look, I smile wider. Walking around the desk, I point to the desk chair, snapping my fingers. “Here.”
The Reaper is already dropping his jacket, wiping his shirt over his head, eyes heated.
His arms move, funerary flowers on one side, the Grim Reaper on the other, twitching as he rights himself.
The black-winged tattoos on his back flutter over his shoulders and up his neck, curving over his chest. My eyes drop to my initials, scarred on his pec.
A single playing card, the queen of hearts, freshly inked, rests beside it. My mark and tattoo showing my ownership.
Dropping into the chair, he looks up at me as if I’m divinity come to earth.
“The capo won’t like this.”
“I’ll buy him a new chair.” I’ll need to.
At this angle, Reese has an unobstructed view of us. Bleeding, tired, and sweaty, his hands are pinned to the sides, and his body is secure. He might be able to look away, but he won’t be able to stop listening.
My fingers run over his chest, flicking his nipple piercings, before trailing lower. His stomach contracts, his abs trembling under me.
Flipping open his zipper, his cock eagerly springs free. My mouth waters, and without waiting for his approval, my tongue swirls around the head.
“Fuck,” he grunts, fingers digging at the armchair. He’s trying so hard not to pull me away and have his fun, but this is for me.
Bobbing my head, I take as much of him as I can into my mouth. It’s tight, and I gag, but his moans are enough to spur me on.
This used to be something taken, never given freely. It took years before I felt comfortable enough doing this with Killian—but it’s worth it.
He doesn’t get this. This is for me.
Wrenching my head back, Killian glares down at me, lids heavy. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to fucking lose it. Are you okay?”
Being watched by a man who deceived me, in an old enemy’s territory, and he’s still worried about me and the ghosts that haunt me. I’ll never be free of them—but with Killian, they don’t dare to attack me.
“Perfect.” I try to go back, and he grabs me by the throat, plunging his tongue inside my mouth. He groans at our combined taste, tugging me to his chest. “I wasn’t done.”
“I am.” He cuts a glare at Reese. “What’s the plan, Princess?”
Kneeling over him, his cock nudges against my covered center. “Are you my good boy, Pup?”
He visibly shakes. “Woof, fucking, woof, Princess,” he groans. “If you call me a good boy again, you’d better be ready to accept the consequences.”
Grabbing hold of his cock, I pull my panties to the side. I let him rub against my slit, and he closes his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Maybe I want those consequences?”
“Fuck, Maeve,” he curses, dropping his forehead to mine. “Really? Right here?”
“Can’t think of a better place,” I quip, reminding him of the time he took me in a puddle of blood, while my abuser lay dead beside us.
I continue to tease him, and he rocks with me, hips seeking more. Having the most dangerous man in the Northeast under me, pinned and helpless, feels better than any torture session. Better than any chocolate pastry. This is power—raw, perfect power.
Pinching my face, he stares into my eyes. “Are you sure?”
My lips brush his as I speak, “Show him who I belong to.”
Growling, Killian shoves me down, cock slamming inside of me. Arching, I moan, suddenly full and aching for more. My hips move, pulling up and dropping back down, the pleasure spiking with each thrust.
Killian groans under me, face bright. “Use me, Princess. Take whatever you need.”
Gripping his hair, I pin him back, rubbing against him. “You’d let me, wouldn’t you, Pup? Let me take from you until you were spent?”
He presses a hard kiss to my lips, groaning. “Yes.”
“Good boy.”
He shudders, surging under me, chasing his high with me. Laughing, I cling to him, my pussy fluttering, as I look over to Reese.
He’s wrecked. Forgetting the hard-on in his pants, his eyes hold all the hate I’d imagine an ex to have. Killian never looked at me like that—because we were never done. He’s it for me.