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I mock laugh. “I’m not worried about you hurting me.” Damn, if looks could kill…I’d be a dead man. “Vent your frustration. Let me have it.” Sick, maybe. A few weeks ago, I’d have thought something like this would be more fitting for Sadie and Rope Boy. Some twisted scene from the stage of his BDSM club.
But if any one of us digs deep enough, excavating to the darkest trenches of our minds, we might not like what we find there—but it’s there. A little black match that begs to be sparked. I had to dig deeper than most, but even I have a yearning to feel Avery’s nails rake my skin. Taste her venom as she claws at my body.
“You’ve been working beside him for days.” I clamp her wrists in a tight hold. Pushing her arms against the bed, I bear down over her. “How does that make you feel? Knowing that he could’ve been the one to sic those thugs on you. What if he was watching on the other side of the glass as you worked on the drug, or—”
Her gaze goes to my gun in my shoulder harness. And I see it then, the deep-seated fear and pain she suffered. Her body racks with terror, quaking beneath me, and I release her wrist to remove my gun from view.
Her fist shoots out and clips me good in my jaw. “Son of a bitch—” she seethes. She unleashes a storm of curses, her fist battering my body with no aim. Wild punches.
I pull back and try to grasp her arm, but she’s too worked up. “I taught you to focus those punches.” And she does. Stopping a beat to regroup, she rears her fist back and drives it into my eye.
Mother fuck. I taught her good.
“Get your gun away from me!” Her voice hoarse, she lodges another punch at my ribs, only I follow through and catch it this time.
“What did he do?” I restrain her wrists above her head, letting her work the violence out as she bucks and struggles. Her breaths bounce between us in hard pants. “I can kill him. I will.”
She goes still, her silky blond hair splayed over her face. “No. It’s my turn this time.” With a force I’m not prepared for, she crushes her mouth to mine. Her tongue sweeps inside, decimating what’s left of my composure.
I let go of her hands, giving her free rein to attack if that’s what she needs. My hands go to her waist, working her shirt up, and when the slight tease of flesh isn’t enough, I pull the damn thing apart. Buttons break free to give me access to all of her.
Her kiss becomes hungry as she yanks at my shoulder strap. “Take it off.” I help her ease the harness down my arm. “He put his gun inside me.”
My body planks. Teeth gritted to the point of pain, I finish pulling the harness free. I toss it to the end of the bed, never letting my gaze waver from her eyes. A mental image flares of that bastard assaulting Avery…and I squeeze my eyes closed, willing it away. But it’s branded, pulsing an angry red against my eyelids.
“The man who came to the lab that day, King,” she explains, letting it pour from her. “That’s how he threatened me. How he got me to change the COD report. So that’s why I hate your gun, Quinn. And why I have to be the one to take back control. I’m going to lure the Alpha out…and I’m going to jam my scalpel up his ass. Okay?”
I strip my shirt off, then cover her body with mine, the heat of her skin a soothing balm. “I’ll hold him down for you.”
Her eyes flick over my face in surprise. “Fair enough.”
I slant my mouth over hers, sealing the pact with a deep kiss. If Avery needs to inflict pain on her tormenters, I won’t stop her. Matter of fact, I’m damn sure I’ll help her succeed.
The moral struggle I normally tussle with evaporates under the scorch of her vengeance. Her pain blisters my reasoning, the charred remnants of my moral compass disintegrating like ash in the sea.
I judged Sadie for her blatant vigilante justice that took the lives of killers and sadistic oppressors. But she was a victim once. Like Avery, she suffered at the hands of filth like Wells and the Alpha. Sadie made a choice to fight back.
A choice that goes against everything I believe.
But I was distanced from Sadie’s pain. I wasn’t there to see her anguish firsthand. I have felt every beat of Avery’s suffering since I pulled her from the dungeon of that boat, and it infected me.
Knowing that someone within the system is not only protecting the Alpha, but may even be the perpetrator themself—and that they’ll continue to inflict more pain on others, on Avery unless they’re stopped…
My moral compass can burn in hell. Right along with Wells, the Alpha, and my tainted, rebuked saintliness.
The Alpha wants Avery. Won’t stop until he achieves his goal. With his connections, prison won’t completely assure her safety.
Stopped means death—the only way to eradicate the infection. The enemy.
I hesitated to pull the trigger before, but when I have the right man in my sights this time, there will be none of that hesitancy bullshit. I’ll pull the trigger.
My thoughts cease at the feel of Avery unfurling beneath me. She’s never hidden her scars, not from me. I embrace the truth she’s willing to share, kissing her deeply, running my hands over the raised scars marring her skin. They’re not a disfigurement; they’re a part of her and her beauty. Her will and her strength.
The rest of our clothes are worked off in desperation to be closer. No barriers between us. Sex with Avery is never the same. Each time, I can feel her needs, her desires shift—they change depending on her state of mind. And right now, she demands something darker to sate her hunger.
She arches into me as her nails rake my back. I cup her breast, my mouth finding her pert nipple. My teeth scrape before my tongue follows to soothe, and her moans pitch higher, letting me know she wants more.
