Page 24 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

VESPER

Anticipation hangs so thick in the air, I could slice it with a knife—and maybe shoot it for good measure.

It’s the night before the auction, and the last thirty-six hours have dragged by like molasses.

Not even Z’s brutal gym sessions, Oscar’s shooting drills, or the very enthusiastic, thoroughly naked efforts they’ve both made to keep me distracted have done a damn thing to make time move faster.

After our heart-to-heart and a few strategically placed kisses yesterday, Alex locked himself away again, fine-tuning his plan.

Despite the urgency, despite the minute-by-minute countdown to this pivotal moment, it's the waiting that kills me.

Not the planning or the risks. Just the fucking waiting.

Anxiety coils beneath my skin, a constant, low-level hum that won't let me settle. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the chill of the hardwood against my bare feet. The oversized t-shirt I’m wearing offers little protection against the cool air.

I pull it down over my thighs and pad down the hallway, the apartment silent around me.

I bypass the living room and head straight for the kitchen.

I pull open the freezer and grab a pint of lavender honey ice cream that Talon keeps stocked for me.

The first few bites melt quickly on my tongue.

My mind is racing, a chaotic whirl as I lean against the counter, the spoon poised between my lips.

Ice cream has always made me feel better, a temporary balm for the unease knotting my stomach. But tonight, even its soothing sweetness can't distract me from the enormity of what's coming. The auction. Luca. The Collector. It's all so close and the stakes are high.

Worry gnaws at the edges of my thoughts. What if something goes wrong? What if Alex's carefully constructed plans crumble? What if we spend all that money and don’t find Luca? Or if we do, the brother I knew is gone. Changed by whatever horrors The Collector has inflicted on him?

Strong arms slip around my waist, drawing me toward them.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Talon asks, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Drowning my worries in ice cream,” I admit, feeling the tension in my muscles start to unwind under his touch. “It’s not working.”

“Mind some company?”

I pass him the spoon, relaxing against the solid warmth of his chest. His presence is calming, like tomorrow won’t crush us after all.

“Are the others still up?” I ask, watching as he takes a bite.

“They’re making sure everything is in place. Putting plans C and D together in case things go sideways.”

“And you?”

“Making sure you’re okay,” he says, a teasing edge to his voice. “And stealing your ice cream.”

I try to smile, but it’s forced, brittle. Talon reads me too well for it to go unnoticed.

“It’ll be okay, princess” he tells me. “We have a plan, and we have you. Those two things pretty much guarantee success.” He sets the ice cream down and spins me to face him, his expression shifting from lighthearted to serious. “We’re going to get him back. You know that, right?”

I nod, but the fear hasn’t left me. “I just…I don’t know what I’d do if we lost him again. If after all of this, he’s still not safe.”

Talon cups my face. “We’ll figure it out. Together. We’ve been through worse than this.”

His certainty is a buoy, and I cling to it. “But what if?—”

Talon’s lips brush against mine, silencing my doubt. The kiss is tender, reassuring, the promise that whatever happens tomorrow, I won’t be facing it alone. When he finally pulls back, my head is swimming for reasons that have nothing to do with fear.

“But what if it isn’t?” I finish weakly.

“It will be,” he insists, his grin returning. “When have you known me to lie?”

“I mean, you did lie about the auction.”

“That was necessary, princess.”

“Still a lie. A pretty shitty one. You don’t have a poker face when it comes to lying.”

His chuckle vibrates through me. As we stand there, tangled together in the kitchen, I begin to believe him.

“You should get some sleep. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring once the auction is over.”

"I'm not tired," I insist, though we both know it's not entirely true.

“Want to be?” Talon sets the ice cream aside and scoops me into his arms.

A surprised laugh escapes as he lifts me onto the counter, my bare leg exposed between the hem of my t-shirt. He steps closer, the heat of him chasing away the chill from the kitchen.

“Do you ever not flirt?” I ask, feigning exasperation.

“Not with you.” He reaches around me, grabbing the ice cream again. “Why? Is it working?”

“Maybe a little.”

His lips find mine, soft and teasing as he crowds closer. My legs hook around his waist instinctively, pulling him to me until there's no space left between our bodies.

“More than a little, I think.”

My uncertainty about tomorrow dissipates, replaced by the immediacy of Talon's touch, the grounding reality of his presence.

“It's late. You should sleep.”

“I told you, I'm not tired,” I insist, tightening my legs around his waist.

A slow smile spreads across his face as he reaches for the ice cream container between us.

He dips the spoon in, gathering a scoop of lavender honey sweetness.

He brings it to my mouth, and I part my lips, letting him slide the cold treat between them.

The flavor blooms on my tongue—floral, sweet, with just a hint of something wild underneath.

“Good?” he asks, his voice dropping lower.

I nod, watching as he digs the spoon back into the container. This time, when he withdraws it, he doesn't bring it to my mouth. Instead, his free hand slides up my thigh, pushing my t-shirt higher until I'm exposed from the waist down. The cool air makes me shiver.

With deliberate slowness, Talon presses the cold spoon against my inner thigh. The shock makes me gasp, hips jerking, fingers digging into his shoulders for balance.

“Talon…” His name leaves my lips like a plea as he drags the spoon upward, leaving a slick trail of melting ice cream that clings to my warm skin.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the first time you said my name like that,” he mutters, dropping to his knees between my legs. “Sweet. Breathless. Needing more.”

His breath ghosts over the sticky line he’s drawn, warm and sinful against the cold. I shudder, caught between the chill of the ice cream and the burn of anticipation. My fingers curl against the counter behind me as he leans in, tongue teasing the path he’s made with slow, deliberate licks.

It’s maddening. Intimate. Raw.

My head falls back as a moan escapes me, hips rocking forward. He groans against my skin like he’s starving for it, licking up every trace of sugar.

“You taste fucking divine,” he breathes into my thigh, his grip on my hips possessive, holding me right where he wants me. “And I haven’t even started.”

When his mouth finally reaches the apex of my thighs, I nearly come undone at the first touch of his tongue.

The contrast between the cool residue of ice cream and the heat of his mouth sends electricity coursing through my veins.

My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him against me as pleasure builds, threatening to shatter me completely.

“Someone might come in,” I gasp, even as my body arches toward him.

Talon looks up at me. “Let them,” he says before returning his attention to my center, his tongue circling my clit with devastating precision.

My thighs begin to tremble as tension coils tighter in my core. Talon slides one hand beneath me, lifting my hips just enough to deepen his reach. The new angle sends sparks across my vision as he slides a finger inside, curling it forward until he finds the spot that makes me shatter.

He devours me like a starving man at a feast, each deliberate stroke of his tongue designed to build my pleasure without letting me fall over the edge.

Sweet, maddening torture that has me writhing against the cold counter as I fight the urge to beg.

He tightens his hold on my thighs. I instinctively try to close them around him, drawing out the exquisite torment.

“Talon, please,” I gasp, my head thrown back as he sucks my clit into his mouth, gentle at first, then maddeningly slow as he pulls away again. If anything, he gets more focused. More ruthless.

“Not yet,” he breathes against me, his lips brushing slick skin. “I want to remember every fucking sound you make when I ruin you.”

The words vibrate straight to my core. The counter digs into the backs of my thighs, grounding me to make every stroke of his tongue feel sharper, every pulse more unbearable.

Just when I think he’s going to tease me until I explode, he thrusts two fingers deep, curling them inside me. His mouth finds me again—tongue and fingers moving in tandem, building me fast, hard, and with no escape.

It’s too much. Too good.

My body arches off the counter as the orgasm hits, tearing through me in relentless pulses until I’m trembling, boneless, wrecked.

But Talon isn’t finished.

As my breath catches in my throat, he rises slowly. He drags the hem of my shirt up and over my head, leaving me bare and sprawled across the counter, marked by his mouth, his hunger.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he commands, stepping between my thighs again.

“We’re just getting started.” He reaches for the ice cream container again.

The cool air pebbles my exposed skin, but it's nothing compared to the shock of cold when he spoons a dollop of lavender honey ice cream onto each of my nipples.

I gasp, arching into the sensation as he leans forward, his mouth closing over one ice cream-covered peak.

“You're spread out for me like a fucking feast,” Talon’s mouth hot against my skin as he moves to my other breast. His tongue licks up the last of the melting sweetness, slow and methodical, like he’s savoring every second. “And I’m going to devour every inch of you.”