Page 183 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

QUINN

“Good,” Killian murmurs against my neck. His cock is still buried deep inside me, and I haven’t even tried to move. All I want to do is lie here with him and savor the connection. His weight pins me to the mattress, grounding me in this moment where nothing exists except the two of us.

When he finally pulls out, I feel the loss immediately. My body clenches around emptiness, already missing the fullness of him. He presses a kiss between my shoulder blades before climbing off the bed.

I hear water running in the bathroom, then he returns with a warm washcloth.

His touch is unexpectedly gentle as he cleans between my legs, wiping away the evidence of our fucking.

The tenderness in his movements makes my chest tight—this man who can be so ruthless, so cruel when needed, treating me like I’m something precious.

“Roll over,” he commands softly, and I obey with muscles so loose and light I might as well be floating. He examines the marks he left on my throat, his fingers skimming over what will surely be bruises by the end of the day. There’s no regret in his touch though—we both know I wanted them.

Needed them.

He tosses the washcloth aside and stretches out beside me, pulling me into his arms. His hand strokes up and down my back and I melt against him, tucking my face into the crook of his neck. He smells like leather and whiskey and sex, and I don’t ever want to leave.

“Thank you,” I whisper against his skin. “How do you always know exactly what I need?”

Killian’s hand goes still on my back. When I lift my head to look at him, his eyes capture mine and hold my gaze with a breathtaking intensity. I’ve never seen him like this—completely open, walls down, letting me see straight through to his soul.

“Because I know you,” he says with nothing but honesty in his voice. His fingers thread through my hair, cradling the back of my head. “And because it’s what I need too.”

The words settle in my chest like a physical weight. Killian doesn’t do vulnerability—none of us do. But here he is, letting me see this hidden part of himself. Trusting me with it.

I kiss him, every movement still slow and languid as I savor the taste of him. His arms tighten around me, and I cling to him just as greedily, letting my fingers trail across his back. They find the raised scar on his side—the one I gave him that night that feels like a lifetime ago.

“I’m sorry I stabbed you,” I murmur against his lips, tracing the mark I left on him.

His chest rumbles with a low laugh. “I’m not.

” His hand slides up my back, pulling me in even closer.

“You were fucking perfect, all rage and fire and hate. I want all of you, siren. Even your anger. Even your hate.” His voice drops lower, rougher.

“I like it every time you touch me, even if it’s to shove a blade between my ribs. ”

A smile tugs at my lips. “You know that makes you sound like a psycho, right?”

He grins at me—that rare, genuine grin that transforms his whole face, the one I’ve only ever seen him give to me. “When it comes to you?” His fingers thread through my hair, tugging just hard enough to sting. “I fucking am.”

The words should probably scare me. Instead, they send a shiver of heat down my spine, because I understand exactly what he means. There’s nothing sane or rational about what exists between us—between all of us. It’s primal and raw and maybe a little bit crazy, but it’s ours.

“My psycho,” I murmur against his mouth, and he growls in response, claiming my lips in another kiss.

We drift off tangled together, his arms locked around me and my head tucked under his chin. For once, my mind is quiet enough to let me slip into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Until the harsh buzz of a phone cuts through the darkness.

My eyes snap open, but it takes me a few seconds to place the unfamiliar sound.

“Is that your phone?” I ask, but I know the answer as soon as I look over and see the dark expression on Killian’s face. “Shit.” Realization dawns slowly, then all at once. “Shit, shit, shit.”

I jump over Killian’s massive, naked body and out of bed with the kind of precision and form that would make an Olympic vaulter weep, then rummage through my discarded clothes until I find the source of that ominous noise in my jeans pocket.

“It’s the burner phone Malcolm gave me,” I explain in a quick whisper just before swiping to accept the call.

“Yes?” I keep my voice steady even though my pulse is racing and I’m starting to sweat a little. I’ve had the phone on me or near me ever since the induction ceremony in the cemetery, but this is the first time anyone has used it to call me.

“I trust I didn’t wake you.” Malcolm’s smooth voice slides through the speaker. Even at this hour, he sounds perfectly composed and dangerous in his civility.

“What do you want?” My fingers tighten around the phone as Killian sits up beside me. I keep my back straight but I want more than anything to lean into him and give thanks for the way his body is radiating protective heat against my side.

There’ll be time for more of that later though.

“Straight to business. I like that about you, Quinn.” There’s an unsettling amusement in his tone. “We’re having a meeting. Tonight.”

My instincts scream that it must be a trap. Why else would they summon me in the middle of the fucking night? “And if I’m busy?”

“You misunderstand.” His voice hardens slightly. “Another member has called in their votum. As you so effectively demonstrated during your induction, when a votum is invoked, all members must respond. Immediately.”

I catch Killian’s eye in the darkness. His jaw is clenched, and I’m not sure if he can hear Malcolm’s side of the conversation, but he’s clearly picking up on my tension.

“Must be something important,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “to warrant a midnight summons.”

Malcolm’s low chuckle raises the hair on my arms. “You would know all about urgent votums, wouldn’t you?

As I recall, you barely made it through your ceremony before calling in yours.

” There’s a subtle bite beneath his cultured tone.

“Some would say you tested the limits of what our little organization allows, but this isn’t the time to have that conversation. ”

My stomach twists as his words sink in. I took a huge risk using my votum right after joining, and it’s clearly put me on thin ice with the Syndicate.

These people expected me to prove my worth, to contribute something to their organization before drawing on their power.

Instead, I stormed in and immediately demanded their help.

But I’d do it again. Atlas is worth whatever price they make me pay.

“I understand the rules,” I say, keeping my voice firm. Malcolm’s subtle jabs might have me on edge, but I’ll never let him hear it.

“Good. Then I’ll see you at Noctura in thirty minutes.”

At least it isn’t the cemetery again.

Not that Noctura is much better. That place where I first met him, where I stood naked while he circled me like a shark testing its prey. The memory makes my stomach clench all over again.

And thirty minutes? Fuck. No more cuddling with Killian tonight.

The line goes dead, and I lower the phone slowly. Killian’s hand finds my lower back, his touch reminding me that we don’t have much time to spare.

“The Syndicate?” he asks, his voice rough with sleep and concern.

I nod, already calculating how quickly I can get dressed and get there. “Someone called in their votum. I have to go.” The words taste bitter. I hate that I’m at their beck and call, but what choice do I have?

“I’m coming with you,” Killian says, already moving from the bed. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

I know there’s no point in arguing, so I pull my own clothes on and walk down the hallway to Atlas’s room.

I hate having to wake him, but I know better than to leave without giving a heads-up.

Each of these men would tear the city apart with their bare hands if they thought I was in trouble, and I’d rather not worry them unnecessarily.

When I push open Atlas’s door, my chest tightens at the sight of him sprawled across the bed, finally getting the rest his body desperately needs to heal.

“Atlas.” I keep my voice soft, but his eyes snap open immediately. Always alert, always ready. “The Syndicate called. I have to go to a meeting.”

He’s pushing himself up before I finish speaking, and I wince at the way he grits his teeth against obvious pain. “Then we’re going with you.”

“You should stay here.” I hold up my hands to make him slow down, but I might as well be talking to the wall behind him. “You’re still healing?—”

“Not a chance in hell. I’m not letting you walk into that snake pit alone.”

I know that tone. There’s no point arguing with him when he sounds like that. Still, my heart aches as I watch him slowly get to his feet, trying to hide how much it hurts.

Nico is already up and moving when I get to his room, either woken by our voices or by Killian. One look at my face and he knows. “When and where?”

“Twenty-five minutes. Noctura.”

He nods, already reaching for his clothes. No questions, no hesitation. Just absolute loyalty and solidarity that I appreciate so fucking much.

Minutes later, we’re pulling out of the driveway and thundering through the mostly-empty streets in perfect formation.

Atlas stays tight on my left while Nico and Killian flank my right side.

Even with everything ahead of us, there’s something comforting about the rumble of their engines surrounding me and the way we move as one unit through the darkness.

The parking lot at Noctura is mostly empty when we arrive, just a few expensive cars that probably belong to the other Syndicate members. I kill my engine and swing off my bike, my men moving with me in perfect sync as we approach the entrance.

If any of us are worried about what waits inside, it doesn’t show. We’ve faced down worse odds together, and we’re still standing.