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My hand raised of its own accord to cup Micah’s cheek as my forehead pitched forward to press against hers. Completely dazed, I breathed her in.
I was simultaneously awestruck and terrified. How could I ever be worthy? Micah was so valuable, I couldn’t even comprehend it.
But I wanted it. Oh, how I desperately wanted her.
“I’m right in front of you. Take me, August.”
And when I looked into her eyes and saw nothing but commanding resolve, I realised that’s exactly what I’d do.
I’ll take it all.
I liftedher to sit on the bathroom counter and pressed between her parted legs. Grabbing a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit, I gently pried the broken fragments of glass from her torn palm. It was intricate work, a constant trickle of blood obscuring the view. She never flinched or made a sound, even when I had to go digging under her flesh for wayward shards.
With her breathing even and muscles relaxed, she leant her head back against the mirror, eyes lapsing shut. I froze, catching sight of the underside of her chin. A small fluorescent tattoo in the outline of a skull glowed like a beacon, reflecting off the purple light filtering from the adjoining room.
“Ultraviolet?”I whispered, my mouth voicing the word before my brain could even compute.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she raised a finger to trace the incriminating symbol, the motion casual and unthreatening, as if I didn’t just find out she was a member of one of the most prestigious and notorious assassination groups in the world.
I’d only ever encountered one, and it had been the closest I ever came to dying. I didn’t know he was Ultraviolet until his lifeless carcass was dragged to the infirmary for investigation. Tattoo ink invisible to the naked eye, made visible beneath the radiance of blacklight.
“Does that scare you?”
I shook my head. “Nah, baby. If anything, this makes complete sense.” Everything clicked into place. Her ability to infiltrate Oakview and her resilience to any chaos that was thrown her way. Also, her capability to manipulate those aroundher to get what she wanted. A true professional, and a specialist in her trade.
“Micah King,” I said with pent-up awe. “Who are you?”
She leant forward, raising her injured hand to my jaw. “A sister, a daughter, a criminal…andyours.” Then she closed the minute distance between us and kissed me with her full, wet lips.
My pulse stuttered from her declaration. I didn’t deserve her. I would never measure up.
It didn’t matter. I was a selfish motherfucker, and I was more than willing to take whatever she was ready to offer. Only she mattered now, my tumultuous mind zoning in on one primal possessive belief.Mine.
I took my time, savouring the welcome feel of her tongue swiping my own. My hands tightened on her waist, pulling her forward until her centre was directly lined up against my growing length.
Slow down, boy. Savour her. Feel her.
Pulling back, I was caught by her all-knowing gaze. Micah was right there with me, fully present and consumed in the essence ofus,as an overwhelming necessity of electrifying static sparked in the space between.
Within her, I found all the answers. Everything I’d never asked or searched for…yet, everything I’d ever want or need.
My survival. My lifeline. My home.
MICAH
August stood frozen as I peeled his shirt up over his head and traced the tattoos laden over his chest.
The distinct gladiator helmet stamped over his right pec, displaying his allegiance to the Ludus Maximus. The rest was atransient montage of tortured wraiths and faceless ghosts, each on the verge of death from a specialised weapon. Anyone would find the images disturbing, whereas I found a certain kinship with them. Death, a regular visitor who always welcomed me with the fondest hospitality.
“What do they mean?” My mouth pitched forward in gentle exploration, his warm skin heating beneath the light pressure of my lips. “They look like screaming souls begging for mercy, begging for their lives.”
August’s rib cage expanded beneath my hands. “That’s because they are. What do you know of the Gladiator Games?”
“The Games are a biyearly event that the Ludus Maximus are renowned for. Only one survives. And you, Psycho, are the most famous gladiator of all.” My tongue flicked against his nipple, sucking it between my lips. He surrendered a shudder and I repeated the process on the other side, his restrained growls nowhere near close enough to what I desired.
I needed it, fucking craved it. To make him act as crazy as he made me feel.
My head tipped back to catch his stare. “Each person can choose one weapon to take into the death match. What was your weapon of choice, Psycho?”
