“Bite!” I manage to choke out.
Hawk’s tongue flicks over my inner wrist. “You better fucking know what you’re asking for.”
His hand cradles mine, and he strikes just below where my palm meets my wrist.
The bite burns, but I’m still distracted by his knot. Every tiny movement drags it along my inner walls. It’s so much pleasure for such very little movement.
Hawk growls, and his tongue flicks over my skin, lapping at the blood that spills around his canines. His scent tinges in my mind, kinda like when I can smell him, but also not.
I’m not the most coherent, and I still understand that I can accept or deny the bond. My soul makes the choice for me, or maybe I’m too out of it to understand how I solidify the link, but I sob as Hawk’s presence floods the connection.
He’s desperate for me in a way I didn’t know was possible. Next comes his relief that I accepted the connection. It’s overwhelming and intense, and it only gets crazier as his cock swells, kicking inside me.
His pleasure ricochets through the bond, and his teeth clamp down on my wrist even deeper.
The pain is insignificant compared to all the other sensations and feelings.
Holy shit.
Hawk just bit me, and I accepted.
We’re bonded for life.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Moretti
This day has been so never-ending that it actually spilled into the early morning hours of the next. God, I guess this is actually the second night.
I left immediately after Vanessa spoke to the doctor, and I haven’t been home since. Although I did get a few hours of sleep at my office as the tech team got to work.
With what Magnum found, I officially have proof of Grigoryan’s wrongdoings, and I intend to offer my wife his head as her wedding present.
If all goes to plan, the sick fuck won’t live to see the end of the week, but I had to be sure the other families wouldn’t take exception to me taking him out.
I have as much assurance as I’m going to get, but I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see if anyone tries to double-cross me.
I’m finally on the way out of my office when my phone rings.
My brow wrinkles as the caller ID comes into view. It’s the landline for Hideaway—one of my bars. They almost never call me directly, since there’s a chain of command.
“This is Moretti,” I say, answering the call.
“Boss? This is Kenny—the bouncer at the Hideaway. We were just closing up for the night, and…”
“And?” I prod, my patience disappearing by the second.
“You should get over here as quickly as possible. We have a problem.”
Keeping my face placid during the round of questions I face from Boston PD isn’t easy, but I won’t allow my anger to prod me into giving anything away.
There was never a doubt in my mind that Grigoryan would retaliate, so I’m unsurprised that he clapped back. But really, this is milder than I expected. It’s left me feeling unsettled as I wait for the other shoe to drop.
Someone drove the car Magnum left behind near Grigoryan’s office right into the back wall of the Hideaway. They also lit the dumpster on fire and spray-paintedyour nexton the brick wall. Their grammar leaves something to be desired, as it should beyou’re next, but I was expecting something on par with the building my men took out the night of Vanessa’s supposed engagement party to Grigoryan.
The Hideaway was an easy target. It’s my closest establishment to Grigoryan’s territory, but I’m surprised he didn’t massacre everyone in the placethenburn the entire bar down.
That’s what I would have done if I truly wanted to make a statement.
