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I forgot he tucked it away to unbind my wrists.
My heart thrums heavily in my chest, and I remember the afternoon my father took me shooting. It was on an afternoon before Fran came into our lives. I was young and don’t remember much of it, but my father let me pull the trigger once.
I could pull out Kohen’s gun, and end Tormentor’s life, couldn’t I?
“Course, I’d have to get my men in here to detain you. Don’t need you coming at me while show the bitch how a real man—”
“Fuck you,” I scream. The rest of his words fall on deaf ears, as I pull the gun and point it at Tormentor. I keep my arms steady and straight, and I squeeze the trigger. I watch his eyes go wide with shock, and everything moves in slow motion as the bullet strikes him somewhere in the middle.
I fire again, and again, and again until the gun is spent and Tormentor’s on the ground. Time speeds back up and I watch while he gurgles and chokes on his own blood, his dark eyes filled with disbelief.
“How does it feel?” I ask, feeling Kohen take the gun from my hand. He has one arm wrapped around my waist, and his lips pressed to my temple. “Huh, you piece of shit. How does it feel to be killed by arealwoman?”
Kohen tries to guide me out of the room, but I refuse. I want to watch him die. I need to see his life force flicker from his eyes as death’s coldness engulfs him.
Even when it’s done and over, Kohen has to pick me up and carry me out.
Tormentor would torment no more.
SIXTEEN
EVERLEIGH
Idon’t remember the ride back to the clubhouse. I was too focused on the man I never thought I’d see again.
Mine.
We climbed onto his bike, and I wrapped my arms around him so tightly, I couldn’t feel them by the time we pulled into the compound. He parked and carried me upstairs.
The second my back hit the bed, Kohen was on me. Kissing and touching. It differed from last night. Less hurried. Gentler, like he was afraid of hurting me.
“Please, Kohen, I need more,” I beg the second he moves from my lips to my neck. My body burns for this man, and after what I’ve been through today, all I want is to feel him inside of me.
Marking me.
Claiming me.
Reminding we’re alive and together.
His large hand reaches for the hem of my shirt, but instead of easing it off me, he rips it open to expose as much skin as he can. It isn’t enough, as he shoves a paw under my bra to grasp my breast.
“Fuck,” he growls, trailing kisses to along my collarbone. I rake my hands through his hair, over his leather cut, smiling inwardly.
Mine.
My Dirty Jackal.
He palms my breast, massaging it in his hand, then his fingers brush over the taut nipple. I moan, arching my back and offering him all of me.
His hands and my hands move in sync, flicking and unzipping both our jeans. We work in sync to shimmy out of them, never once breaking our kiss.
I feel his cock brush my stomach, and a rush of wetness between my legs.
Fuck. I’m ready. So fucking ready and desperate for him.
Kohen pulls back to remove his cut, but I stop him.
“Leave it on, Jackal.” I whisper, and his mouth tips up into a smile, right before his cock pushes inside of me. He doesn’t stop until he hits the root, and his pelvis is flush against me. The sting and stretch adds to the animalistic need coursing through me.
