Page 31 of Forbidden Empire (Sinful Gods #1)

Seventeen

A IDON

Esme had carved her way into me like shrapnel, sharp and impossible to dig out. For days now, her presence burned under my skin, a constant ache I couldn’t shake.

When we fucked, it was a collision, the kind born of people who’d tried to destroy each other and hadn’t quite managed. Her teeth sank into my shoulder hard enough to break skin. My hands left bruises along the insides of her thighs.

When it was over, neither of us could bear to let go. We’d collapse, limbs tangled in the aftermath, her breath hot and ragged against my neck.

I never pulled away first. Neither did she. Even when we were supposed to be strategizing, planning our next move, all it took was a look across the room, and we were on each other again.

Maps abandoned, scattered underfoot. Her back pressed to the wall. My name ripped from her throat, raw and desperate as a confession.

This morning, I woke to find her watching me and calculating, always.

Even in the half-light, those obsidian eyes burned with something dangerous. She traced the scar on my collarbone with a single finger, slow, thoughtful.

My pulse kicked up. I didn’t dare breathe.

Then, a knock.

Three sharp raps, so precise they echoed like gunfire.

Ares. The spell shattered, reality roaring back in.

I yanked the door open, hinges shrieking like wounded animals.

"Fucking finally," I spat, stepping aside.

Ares strode in with the cold grace of a blade, all edges and purpose, every move coiled and lethal.

The sickly hallway light slashed over the scar at his temple, jagged and ugly, a gift from Rhea, burned into flesh.

His eyes, hard and empty as spent shell casings, flicked past me, locking on Esme.

She stood by the windows, the city sprawling beneath her like something conquered. The silk robe clung to the body I had worshipped with my mouth not an hour ago, Vegas neon painting her in colors too wild for this world.

Goddess and demon, temptation and threat, all tangled together.

Ares' jaw worked, muscles tight beneath skin, but he didn’t flinch. He was used to this by now, to finding Esme here, the woman who nearly burned my entire world down, standing in my sanctuary like she belonged.

Esme didn’t look away. Her chin tipped up, a silent dare. Ares stared back, eyes narrowed, his hand drifting close to the weapon at his side, a habit, or maybe just instinct.

“There’s news,” he said.

The pneumatic door hissed shut behind us, sealing us in.

“Let’s hear it.” I stepped between them, shoulders stiff, heart pounding so hard it rattled my chest.

The weight of my Glock pressed firm against my lower back, a bitter comfort in a place that should have been safe.

Ares’s face stayed blank, unreadable, but the way he shifted his weight told me everything.

This was it.

Either Rhea had slipped away for good, or we had her dead to rights.

Blood was coming, one way or another.

I felt Esme move in behind me, her presence igniting the air, close enough to raise the hairs on my neck.

The three of us hung there, caught in the split-second before the world changed, tension crackling, waiting for what came next.

"We have movement at Rhea's last known location."

The words hit me hard, adrenaline spiking in my veins and making my pulse roar in my ears.

Esme was already on the move before I had time to process the information, a blur of silk and hunger, her robe fanning out behind her as she lunged for the table, a woman possessed by need and fury.

"Finally." The sound ripped from her, a demand, rough, raw, and desperate.

Her nails tore over the scattered maps, frantic, the scrape of a hiss of violence in the hush.

Neon from the Vegas Strip caught her green eyes, making them burn with something feral, something honed enough to cut straight through me.

She slammed her palm onto a spot, the force rattling the table and sending papers shivering.

"Was she here?" The question was a challenge, a weapon, and I could feel the expectation coiled inside her, ready to detonate.

Ares stalked forward, the weight of his boots grinding against the cheap floor.

"That's it." He leaned in, scar at his temple seemed to throb, his battered knuckles just a breath from Esme's hand on the map.

Neither one flinched, their intensity vibrating in the scant space between them. Two predators. Two guns cocked and waiting for an excuse.

"No movement since?" Esme's gaze narrowed, blazing emeralds ready to fire.

I felt the ruthlessness gathering in her, the anticipation of the hunt, and the promise of blood behind her eyes, the air thick with want and violence.

The softness vanished from her in an instant, gone as if burned off by desert sun.

Her spine snapped straight, shoulders locked, jaw set in a line that meant nothing, and no one would stand in her way.

This was the Esme who had stolen from me, outplayed me, survived things I'd rather forget.

Her fingers glided over the map, each nail clicking against paper as she pinpointed entry after entry.

My blood rushed south so fast it was almost dizzying.

The rough scrape of denim against my cock forced me to shift, to ground myself as she leaned in, calculating vengeance with a precision that was almost surgical.

Her teeth caught on her bottom lip, her eyes narrowing as she weighed timelines, risks, casualties.

I couldn't stop staring at her mouth, remembering how it felt pressed to my throat just hours before. Sweat pricked at my hairline.

When she planted both hands on the table, the muscles in her arms taut and bracing, I nearly let out a groan.

Power pulsed from her, not the counterfeit kind you bought with money or threats, but the kind you earned when you survived everything.

Vegas neon caught in her hair, reflecting a sheet of electric fire on the black strands.

Christ, I wanted to grab it, yank her head back, taste her again right here, right now.

Maps, plans, whatever she was plotting could wait. I wanted her intelligence scraping against my skin, her rage on my tongue, both of us burning hotter than the city outside.

She prowled, lethal and elegant, every movement a taut promise. The way her fingers traced the map was the same way she'd traced my scars hours before, with a kind of reverence edged in danger.

I saw it then, something buried beneath the silk clinging to her skin, deeper than the curve of her spine: a reflection of my own darkness, sharp and hungry.

When she looked at me, her pupils were blown wide, emerald, just a thin ring around black. The kind of gaze that devoured. The kind I recognized in the mirror.

"This means we can move, right?"

I stepped in, close enough to feel her heat, close enough that when my fingers brushed hers, a jolt shot straight through me, wild and electrifying.

"Fuck yes." The words scraped out, raw. "And this time, we end it on our terms."

She didn't smile, not a true smile. Her lips parted, teeth flashing, a predator’s promise. Blood thundered in my veins as she leaned in, gunpowder and expensive perfume swirling around me, dizzying.

"Then let's get to work."

She bent back over the table, neck exposed, skin begging for teeth or protection.

Both.

The urge hit so hard it ached: to guard her, to devour her, to build her an empire or tear the world down for her.

Whatever tangled, savage thing thrashed between us, it was here to stay. And so was she.