For several heartbeats, we remain joined, both of us breathing heavily in the aftermath of what just happened. Of how fucking amazing it felt.
When I finally withdraw, I gather her against my chest right there on the floor. Her body is still trembling, her face flushed, from the act itself, but also from a hint of embarrassment at how badly she screamed while I claimed inch after inch of her ass.
The evil inside me settles, temporarily sated by this new conquest. But as I stroke her hair from her face, I recognize a dangerous truth: my hunger for her grows rather than diminishes with each claiming. She's becoming necessary to me in ways no human should be, and in ways no other person ever will.
"We should get back," she murmurs against my chest a few minutes later, ever practical despite what we've just shared.
I press my lips to her forehead, allowing us a few more moments together so she’d partially recover before we return to our hunt. "Ashford can wait a little longer," I say, needing to hold her a little longer, as if it would ever be enough to keep me satisfied even for half an hour. "Let him be the one waiting for us. Wondering what our plans are. Fear improves the scent of prey."
twenty
-Brynn-
My legs still tremble as we exit the room. My body is humming with the aftershock of pleasure and I can still feel him there with every step I take.
Ares knows it, resting his hand on the small of my back as he walks beside me, his composure already perfect again. I can see the smile lifting the corners of his lips, knowing I enjoyed it much more than I ever suspected I would.Truth is, I never thought ruin would feel this way, this good—this fulfilling.
But now, we’re back to business. It’s been more than an hour since the secretary asked us to wait for Ashford.
I feel ready for a hunt. Senses blurred, but also sharpened with a new kind of thrill—the hope that maybe I could get answers, and that I’ll find whoever killed Elias.
“You’re limping,” Ares murmurs, and I know he’s not talking about my leg.
“Fuck you,” I breathe back, adjusting my stride, trying to hide the evidence of what just happened.
His lips are still raised in that infuriating smile. “Again? So soon?” he looks at me, and I want to punch him right in that smug face.
I don’t dignify that with a response, pretending to focus on our surroundings as we head back to the main floor of the club. Scenes of pleasure and pain are all around us. Different people, some behind closed doors, others inviting voyeurs in various states of ecstasy and surrender. A few cracks of leather against skin make the heat between my thighs ignite again. The moans echoing through the hallway make me blush, remembering it was just a few minutes ago that I couldn’t even remember my own name.
I try to think only about the mission, remembering exits, security positions, and any other potential threat, just as Ares trained me to. But I can’t say it’s completely working.
We approach a section of the club separated by black satin curtains, the same ones that lead to the lobby, where we ask the assistant if Mr. Ashford is ready to see us.
By the look on her face, I’d say no, but judging by Ares’, he won’t accept that answer.
I can see her flustered reaction as she makes a call, then breathes with relief and leads us through another corridor of private rooms, even more luxurious than the rest of this place.
At the end of the corridor, there’s a black door, framed by large gold vases from which lavish exotic plants form an archway.
“Mr. Ashford will be with you in a minute,” she lets us know, then walks back to where we came.
Even before she reaches the end of the corridor, the door in front of us opens, and a tall, dark-haired man emerges who can only be John Ashford. The same Valiant who tapped out in front of me less than a month ago.
Except he’s tanned now, which tells me he probably just returned from some fancy vacation in a warmer climate.
“Ares,” he says, extending his hand with a confident smile, trying to maintain eye contact with Ares so he can establish some kind of dominance over him. Which only makes me laugh.
“I apologize for the delay. But time goes by differently in this kind of establishment,” Ashford continues, “And this must be…” his gaze slides over me, assessing me from head to toe. For him, it’s the first time he sees me because he definitely doesn’t recognize me from Kharon.
“Brynn,” I say, letting my own smile show too many teeth.
“A pleasure,” Ashford nods,his eyes already returning to Ares, like he knows he needs to keep an eye on him. “Please come in. We have matters to discuss in private.”
But as Ashford gestures toward an open door right next to the room he just exited, movement catches my eye.
I take another look, and there’s another entrance to his suite or whatever that is. A secondary door on the opposite wall that just opened. Through it, a massive man, whose neck is as thick as my thigh, is guiding—no, let me correct that—forcing a young woman into the room.
My blood freezes. The woman isn’t even in her twenties, and her wrists are bound tightly with rope. But that’s not what shocks me. Her eyes are wide with terror, and blood is smeared on her thighs, barely concealed by the tiny nightgown she’s wearing. I bet there’s blood on that too, but it’s black and I can’t see clearly from where I’m standing. A gag in her mouth muffles what I’m certain would otherwise be screams. This isn’t one of the submission games we’ve witnessed before as we ventured through the club. This is fucking abuse and captivity.
