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“It was the pomegranate syrup on the jet.” She smirks, shaking her head. “One taste, and I knew... that was the syrup for me. Too good to live the rest of my life without.”

And as she leans up on her elbow, capturing my lips with hers and shifting so she’s straddling my hips, sliding down my cock before I even have much of a chance to process what’s going on, I chuckle to myself at the fucking irony.

Persephone eating the seed, tying her to the Underworld indefinitely.

My version is a little different, a little skewed and bloody and downright agonizing at times, but the result remains the same.

She’s here to stay, and the darkness inside me starts to feel a little less heavy.

* * *

Ivers International isa company for criminals, by criminals.

Who better to help keep illegal activity safe than people who did it and got away with it?

Based in the seedy shit stain town of King’s Trace, Maine, it’s not a place I like to frequent. When I can conduct meetings virtually, I do.

Frankly, if they weren’t typically so damn good at their job, and I didn’t have a personal connection to the owner, I likely wouldn’t still be using them based on location alone.

Still, I decide to drop by a few weeks after Elena shows back up on the island, checking in to see if the team’s broken any new ground on the identity of my blackmailer yet.

I haven’t heard from either of them since before Carmen’s arrest and Rafe went AWOL, so I can only imagine what’s going on on that front. After squaring away a meeting with Boyd Kelly, the lead cybersecurity engineer, I touch down in Portland and make the short drive up to King’s Trace, trying not to let its darkness pull me in like usual.

There’s a reason I only ever came to town to do a job. An invisible slime practically coats the small streets, an evil presence haunting every person who steps inside the city limits.

I don’t stop anywhere on my way in, parking outside Ivers International and heading inside immediately.

The glossy floors in the lobby look as though they’ve recently been buffed, and a short-haired receptionist greets me at the front desk, giving me an elevator key after I confirm my appointment. Walking across the lobby to where the silver, sliding doors are, I glance around, observing how disturbingly normal the place seems.

I’m not sure what I was expecting from a security firm, but cubicles and cushioned bench seats certainly wasn’t it.

Stepping out when the elevator dings on my floor, I immediately tense up at the emptiness of the top floor. Executive names are listed on a plaque right above the reception desk, and I can plainly see several doors lining the hallway, chairs to sit and wait in, and yet... there appears to be no sign of life, anywhere.

Clearing my throat, I ring the bell sitting on the desk, rocking back on my heels as I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Growing agitated with each passing second, knowing this is keeping me from relaxing at home, I lean forward, squinting at the plaque. Boyd’s office number is the second one down, and so I push past the glass partition separating the office doors from the upstairs lobby, and head right for his slot.

“I don’t appreciate having to wait—”

Cutting off abruptly when I open the door, I freeze in my tracks, more than a little stunned by the petite blonde sitting behind the large oak desk, black Converse propped up on the wooden surface.

Surprised, mostly because the last time I saw her, she’d been in a coma, broken and bloody and struggling to find the subconscious will to wake up.

“Riley,” I breathe, my knees buckling at the girl in front of me.

The sister of Boyd Kelly, head of Ivers International’s security team.

Her honey-colored hair is cropped close around her head, her blue eyes as deep and disturbed as the uncharted parts of the ocean. A scar slashes across the corner of her mouth, the mangled skin on her cheek from a thigh graft healed but still a little more raised and pinker than the rest of her face.

She looks hollow, the dark circles around her eyes more like craters, the sweater she has on about three sizes too big. I shut the door slowly, and she grins when I come over to the desk.

“You sure know how to make a girl wait,” she says, gesturing for me to have a seat.

I do, but only because I’m confused.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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