Chapter 7
Cain
My hands tightened on Nyx’s head. From a room below came the muted sound of voices, but here on the balcony, we were hidden in the fog.
She took me deeper and I went with it, pushing even further.
I was a bastard for letting her do this on her knees on the balcony’s cold tiles, but something about Nyx brought out the prick in me.
Maybe it was her fairy-princess vibe, the way she’d grown up rich and pampered while I’d been kicked around, told I was dirt.
I’d only been in the same room with her and Nazaire once—the night we met at that party thrown by the Montreal prima.
But it was enough. I’d seen how her sire treated her, ordering her around, talking down to her like she was a thrall instead of his own daughter.
And she’d taken it, standing there smiling and silent, the perfect little syndicate princess.
Part of me despised her for it. Were the fancy clothes, the jewelry, the status really worth letting him own her like that?
And she deserved a little hardship. The woman had nearly blown up me and my friends.
She gave my dick a squeeze that made me suck in oxygen, and I forgot everything except how good this felt. Gods, I’d missed it—and her.
Her mouth didn’t quit: licking…sucking… Sweet and hot and wet. Her eyes were shut, her lips closed around me.
My gaze went to the choker around her throat. My gift.
It was nothing—a black velvet ribbon studded with brass, something I’d picked up in a Goth-punk store the last time I was in London because it had reminded me of her. I would’ve liked to give her something pricier, but Nazaire would’ve noticed. I’d figured she’d toss it the next night.
But she hadn’t. She’d kept it—worn it in front of everyone at the art show. A cheap, ten-pound-sterling choker.
That unexpected, unwanted possessiveness snaked through my insides.
I heard myself grit out, “Stop.”
She took a few beats before pulling off. She frowned up at me, her lips slick, reddened. “Something wrong?”
“Nothing. Just—” Hands still buried in her thick hair, I came to my knees beside her, driven by something I didn’t understand to share the discomfort, the hard surface along with her.
Nyx crawled backward, my fingers still in her hair, the two of us coordinating the change in position with that rapport we’d had since the very first night, like we were in each other’s minds, until she was on all fours facing me.
“Now.” I drew her head in the direction of my lap.
Instead of taking me in her mouth, she pushed back against my palms so she could look up at me, her eyes a tawny gold in the night.
I tilted her head sideways, exposing her throat.
She gulped, the choker moving with her muscles, her lids drifting closed. “Cain…”
I drew a breath, my fangs pricking at my gums. Having her submit to me like this almost made this godsdamn night—and everything I’d learned—worth it.
I gave her hair a tug, just for being so damn fuckable, and she whimpered, her need scenting the air. My syndicate princess liked things rough.
“Suck me,” I told her.
She immediately complied, resting that round ass on her leather boots, her lids half-lowered as she took me deep.
I stroked the side of her cheeks with my thumbs. “You look so beautiful—on your knees for me. You want this, don’t you? Want me to use you.”
Her long lashes lowered. I took that as a yes, especially when she sucked me deeper. Her fingers were around my root, her other hand massaging my balls.
She was good at this. Too good.
How many men had she knelt for?
I flashed on how her cousin Rodrigo had touched her, like he had a right to. Worse, the way he’d eyed her as she walked away from him, like he was thinking of making good on that right.
“Who else do you take like this?” I forced her to take me a little deeper, darkly satisfied when she relaxed her throat around me.
“No one,” she said around me, two garbled syllables.
“Only me, then.”
She nodded as much as she could with my hands in her hair and my dick in her mouth. All she could smell and taste was me.
“But,” I muttered, half to myself, half to her, “I wouldn’t know if you were lying, would I?”
A shake of her head.
A puff of laughter escaped me. “Why did I think you’d say you’d never lie to me? I can never predict you.”
She pulled off long enough to say, “That’s why you like me,” then took me inside her mouth again.
She was right. Her unpredictability was why I liked her even though I didn’t trust her—not completely, anyway.
And in some strange, yeah, I’m definitely abnormal way, I liked that I couldn’t fully trust her. The challenge of Nyx—that edge of danger—excited me. I enjoyed seeing how far I could push her. What she’d accept.
She touched a spot with her tongue that made my eyes roll back in my head. My balls drew up tight, heat building in my lower spine.
“That’s it,” I muttered. “Make me come like a good girl. My good girl.”
She moaned my name around my length. Her eyes were closed again, her face flushed. One hand slipped between her thighs, touching herself, and her obvious enjoyment increased mine.
Time stretched like warm taffy. The only things in the world were her hot, wet mouth and the hands that seemed to be everywhere, gripping my dick, massaging my stones.
I wanted to last longer, but she touched her teeth to my already sensitized flesh and a fireball exploded up my spine.
“Fuuu-ck.” I groaned and emptied myself into her throat in a few hard pumps, loving how she swallowed it down, dimly aware that she was coming too, her cries muffled, sexy.
When she released me, she stayed on her knees, cheek resting against my bare thigh. Pulling up my pants, I lowered my ass to the marble tiles and drew her onto my lap, my back against the iron rails.
Her arms came around me in a loose hug. I rested my head against her hair, inhaling Nyx. Earth and sage, smoky and sweet.
Something in me sighed, settled. I’d missed her, damn it.
Hell, I’d been worried about her.
After that operation on the island, she’d gone missing. I’d wondered why, of course, but we weren’t exactly in regular contact, and I’d already pushed things too far while we were scrambling to get Eden back from those SOBs.
When a month passed with no sign of Nyx, not even at QCS events, I’d started to get uneasy. I’d wanted to investigate, but if she was in trouble, me sniffing around could make it worse.
Still, while I was in Quebec trying to dig up something damning on Nazaire, I kept an eye out for her. Eventually she resurfaced at a couple of QCS parties—exclusive ones I couldn’t crash without blowing my cover, even if I’d known ahead of time that she’d be in attendance.
So when Donald, our man in Quebec City, tipped me off that Nyx was going to be at an art show in Paris, I’d jumped on a jet.
I’d been half-crazed with an unnamed fear until I saw her in that gallery, laughing, flirting, alive. Only then did the tightness in my chest loosen.
Nyx lifted her head. “I’d better go. They…watch me now. I can’t be gone the whole night.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know how you can live like that. Does the money mean that much?”
She gave a twisted little smile. “You think he’d let me just walk out the door?”
I frowned. It was the first crack I’d seen in Nyx’s loyalty to her sire. “Maybe not,” I answered, still trying to make all the pieces line up. “But you seem all in. Makes me wonder if you’ve been playing me the whole time.”
She went rigid. Then she tore herself out of my hold, landing on her ass a couple feet away.
“Are you serious?” Her voice broke on the words. “These times with you? They’re everything to me. When things get bad, I think about you, and that’s how I—”
She sounded devastated, like losing my trust wasn’t just a blow—it was the worst thing that could’ve happened to her.
And what did she mean, “when things get bad”?
“This is about Eden, isn’t?” She scrubbed her hands down her face, barreling on before I could answer. “You don’t get it. I knew you people had a dinghy, and I stalled the explosion so you’d have time to escape. Nazaire was so angry at me for screwing up—”
She rolled her lips into her mouth like she was swallowing the rest. Like explaining wouldn’t change a damn thing.
I knew that look. That dark, hopeless acceptance. I’d worn it myself growing up under my bastard of an uncle.
Something shifted in me. That big, bright smile she showed the world? I’d figured it was a mask. I just hadn’t bothered to think too hard about what it hid.
A black heat blanked my vision. “He hurt you?” My voice came out low and dangerous.
She shrugged—small, defeated. An answer all on its own.
I pushed up onto my knees and caught her by the shoulders.
“Tell me,” I demanded. “What did he do?”