Page 59

Chief Aiken Oakley

Valor

Valor took point with Zorion close behind and the Browns taking up the rear.

The chopper pilot dropped them off on the helipad of the building that was now considered the new Ravens facility.

A huge renovated four-story warehouse nestled in the bustling metropolis of Washington DC—hidden in plain sight.

Valor didn’t notice the name of the building, but it was most likely an inconspicuous business—like Resource Management, Logistics Solutions, or Building Group—that would be ignored by passersby.

A group of men rushed toward the aircraft, and if Valor hadn’t noticed Sable, their weapon’s specialist, leading them, they might have been on the receiving end of his defense.

“That compound bow better be in the same state-of-the-art condition it was when I gave it to you, Zorion,” she grumbled on her way past. “You may wield it, but it’s my baby.”

The rooftop door was held open for them by an armed guard who gave them a respectful nod on their way past.

The interior of the building whispered of secrecy.

Stark lighting lined the ceiling in sharp lines, illuminating the clean, industrial-style stairwell. Every level they passed felt more alive, like descending through the veins of a heart.

There was a lot of motion on level two. A dozen or so technicians at work, hunched over consoles with well-lit screens.

One woman glanced up as they passed but quickly glanced in the other direction, her expression a mix of awe and nervousness. The Greens were now just as legendary as the Blacks and the Browns.

Valor’s muscles remained coiled, his instincts telling him not to relax just yet.

By the time they reached the fourth sub-level, the air felt different, warmer, laced with the clean scent of metal and ozone.

A warehouse unfolded before them that was at least the size of a football field.

Jo hadn’t just secured a facility. She’d built a stronghold.

A glass-walled area labeled Records and Data was to the left. Heavy-duty crates were stacked high on the right. In the far back was a raised platform with a large circular table that resembled a war chamber disguised as a boardroom.

A man approached them, maneuvering around plumbing pipes and wires hanging from the ceiling like exposed nerves.

“Ren,” Zorion muttered.

The man standing in front of them had changed. He no longer wore regulation green. He had on civilian tactical gear, his sleeves rolled up his corded forearms, and a data pad in his hand.

His posture was wary and humble.

“I didn’t know,” Ren murmured, not meeting their eyes. “I didn’t know what they were doing to you in there. I shouldn’t have been so fuckin’ na?ve.”

Valor looked at Zorion, receiving a small nod.

“I see Jo has quite a few people here from the facility.” Zorion glanced around at the familiar faces.

“Yeah, a lot of us were kept in the dark on all the bullshit the director was up to. But still…” Ren mumbled.

Valor clamped the man on his shoulder, causing him to wince.

“My bad.” Valor chuckled.

Sometimes, he forgot how much force was in his fists.

“Ren, trust what I say when I tell you we don’t fault anyone for another man’s deeds.”

“Jo made me your project manager again. If you’ll allow it. She said it’s your choice.”

He and Zorion hesitated for a couple of seconds before they both nodded.

“On the second level are the decompression chambers and shower rooms.” Ren pointed back the way they’d come. “You two can go there and get changed and meet Jo and the others for debriefing.”

“Decompression chambers?” Valor frowned. “In case what…we have a terrorist we chase a thousand feet below sea level.”

Ren smirked. “It’s just what Jo called it. That’s the area you can go to after missions to unload your battle gear, shower, and so forth. It’s pretty darn cool in there.” Ren blushed. “I helped Dr. Santana with the design. I hope you two like it.”

Valor and Zorion stepped into the locker room and the chaos of the outside died away.

Soundproof. Nice.

Valor needed this moment away from the orders, bloodshed, and weapons.

They peeled off their clothes in silence.

Ripped fabric fell to the floor. Burned edges, bloodstains, gunpowder smears—every piece shucked carried remnants of the war they’d just fought…and won.

Naked, they stood in front of each other, the low light tracing muscles chiseled by training, marred by scars, made animal-like by DNA that wasn’t their own.

Zorion’s breath hitched when their eyes met. “Still standing,” he said, his voice gravelly and dripping with heat.

Valor closed the distance until their chests touched, the air between them growing hot and electric.

Without another word, he walked them backward into the shower, steam curling around them like fog on a field at dawn. Water cascaded over them in thick, hot sheets from the overhead jets.

The instant the almost scalding water hit his skin, he groaned, not from pain, but release.

The heat soaked into his bones, drawing out the tension and rage he’d harnessed during the fight.

Valor reached for Zorion.

He pressed him back to the tiled wall.

He touched his cherished everywhere, tracing along his collarbone, across his firm pecs, and down the ridges of his abdomen.

He moved slowly, deliberately, like he was memorizing him all over again.

He dragged his lips down wet skin, tasting salt, soap, and primal power.

Valor gripped Zorion’s jaw and guided his face up until he met his soft green eyes. He captured his mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

They collided with hunger, and as their lips parted, Valor slid his tongue inside. It was authority, surrender, worship, and wildness, all tangled into breathless gasps and long groans.

Zorion spun them and sank to his knees. A sensual energy surged through him at seeing his man in such a submissive posture.

Zorion dug his thumbs into Valor’s hips, trailing kisses along his groin until his pretty lips wrapped around the base of his shaft.

“Fuck, Rio.”

Zorion’s name became a low moan that got lost in the steam.

Wet slickness slid over his cockhead and up and down his length in a way that made his spine lock. He dropped his head back until it hit the wall and exhaled a ragged breath at how fast his orgasm was cresting.

Zorion sucked hard on the head of his cock as he gazed up at him with eyes so full of desire.

Valor wove his hands into Zorion’s long white-blond hair.

The moment swelled, intimate and pressing.

Valor yanked Zorion onto his feet. He didn’t want his seed in his Zorion’s mouth. He wanted it elsewhere.

He turned Zorion around. The puma in him awakened as he grazed his teeth along the side of Zorion’s throat, raking his nails over wet skin.

He pulled a bottle of shower oil from the multitude of products provided for them and bent Zorion forward until he was folded in half.

He slathered his cock before shoving two oil-slicked fingers deep into Zorion’s ass, the sharp grunt of pleasure sending thrills to his groin.

His dick throbbed as if the adrenaline from the war was still pumping in his veins.

He pushed inside in one long drive until his pelvis was flush against Zorion’s ass.

“Goddammit,” he groaned. “Why do you do this to me every time, Rio?”

Valor snapped his hips, stiff and fast, their bodies moving with rhythm and desperation as Zorion met him thrust for thrust.

“Harder, cherished…harder.”

Valor growled low in his throat.

Steam billowed as the pounding of the water on their skin and their cries of ecstasy melded into one sound.

They climaxed together, shuddering, Valor holding on to Zorion’s hips so tightly he left deep nail marks.

When he was empty and sated, he eased out of Zorion’s body and pulled him close, their chests heaving, his forehead pressed against Zorion’s pulse.

“I could die just like this,” Zorion whispered.

Valor bit into the junction of Zorion’s neck. “You’re not allowed to die.”

They kissed again, slower this time. Lingering. The kind of kiss reserved for the one who knew him inside and out, bones and beast.

When he regained feeling in his legs, he led them out of the shower. With towels cinched tight around their waists, Valor nodded toward a set of glass doors.

“Let’s check out this decompression room. Hmm.”

Zorion nodded, his body still thrumming so fiercely Valor could feel it.