Page 13 of Ravaged Saints (BloodHawks Duet #1)

I close Aspen’s door behind me, my cock still throbbing. “That motherfucker,”

I mutter under my breath.

Ryker chuckles, his laughter low and amused. “That was hot as fuck, man.”

I nod; it was. Aspen is not what I expected. The way she is unraveling in front of us is exciting.

We head toward the rooms, his door just ahead. He opens it slightly, tossing me a glance over his shoulder. “Good nigh—”

Before he can finish, I grab the back of his neck, twisting him to face me, and I shove him against the wall, pinning him with one hand. His body tenses under my grip, and his hands snap up to pull my wrist down.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

I growl, pressing him harder into the wall.

“To bed,”

he spits back. His dark eyes meet mine, that stubborn glint on them that drives me insane.

“The fuck you are.”

I pull him off the wall and toss him into my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind us.

“!”

Ryker snarls, his hands pushing against my chest, and I take a step back, but the fire in his eyes is unmistakable—he wants to challenge me, like usual. That bratty, defiant attitude of his, the one that always makes me want to fuck him hard against the damn wall, only makes me want him more.

I smirk and step closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You want to fight, Ryker? Fine by me. You know how much I love putting your bratty self in place.”

He grins, and I see the challenge in his eyes, so I stalk toward him, and that’s when he goes for it. His arms shoot out to push me, but I’m quicker, ducking and grabbing his legs, sweeping them out from under him. He crashes onto his back with a grunt, and I’m on him, straddling his hips. “You need to work on your fighting skills, Ryker,” I taunt.

He chuckles and smirks. “I’m a sniper, not a fighter,”

he mocks, but we both know he could put up one hell of a fight if he wanted.

He grabs my thighs, trying to throw me off, but I lock my weight on top of him. I’m heavier, stronger, and if there’s one thing I’m damn good at, it’s taking down a fucker.

I grab his wrists, pinning them to the ground with ease, and my body presses down on him, trapping him beneath me as I lean in close.

My lips brush his ear, a low growl rumbling from my chest as I linger there, my breath hot against his skin. Stop being a brat and get on your fucking knees, Ryker.”

Those big black eyes of his light up with mischief, and he smirks, defiant as ever. “Make me,”

he snorts.

Yanking his hair, I force him to sit up on his knees, gripping the back of his head while my other hand grabs his chin, my thumb pressing against his lips, forcing its way into his mouth and down on his tongue, holding him still, and he winces with pain.

“Now be a good boy and stay still,” I groan.

His eyes lock on mine, a teasing, smug smile on his face. He’s always the same playful asshole, the one that drives me fucking insane.

Ryker and I met through Knox. They trained together before the mission that changed everything—the one that turned us into rogues, mercenaries who take the jobs no one else will touch, the ones who get their hands dirty, but at least we know who the enemy is, not like the betrayal from our commander, the man who left us with blood on our hands and a target on our backs.

“?”

Ryker’s pulls me from the memories seared into my mind.

I straighten up, unzipping my jeans, and Ryker licks his lips, his eyes locked on me. Fuck, he’s a sight to see—he’s the only one of us without a single tattoo, a lean body, messy black hair, and those goddamn black eyes that drive me insane.

He grabs my hard cock, precum leaking, and I close my eyes as his lips wrap around my cock, and the heat of his mouth makes my breath hitch. “Fuck, Ryker,”

I groan, gripping his hair as his tongue twirls around my cock. He’s incredible at this and knows exactly how to drive me insane.

I thrust deeper, hitting the back of his throat, and he gags slightly but stays in place. His hands grip my thighs hard as his body shifts, the bulge in his jeans straining against the fabric.

“You’re such a good boy for me,”

I grunt, tightening my grip on his hair. My body tenses as the pressure builds. Pulling out, I let out a shuddering breath, a string of saliva connecting his swollen lips to my cock.

I grab him by the chin and pull him up into a rough kiss, tasting myself on him. He melts into it, his hands sliding up my shoulders, but when he pulls back, there’s hesitation in his eyes.

“…”

he whispers.

I silence him, spinning him toward the bed and pressing him down. I know what he’s going to say; he’s always fighting this, us.

I unbuckle his pants and tug them down, grabbing the lube from the nightstand. I spread it over him, my hand caressing his skin, my fingers pressing on his ass, and he let out a low groan. “Fuck, .”

“Do you want this Ryk?”

I whisper in his ear, low and possessive.

“Yeah,”

His breathless answer makes me even harder.

I place my cock at his entrance, and when I push into him slowly, his moan is primal and raw, and I thrust, pressing my hands on his muscular shoulders, my breathing picking up.

His body arches, and his hand moves to his cock, jerking himself off as I thrust harder. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixed with his gasps and curses.

“Goddamn,”

he growls, gripping the sheets. “You feel so fucking good.”

I lean down, my breath against his ear. “Then stop fighting me, Ryker. Stop pretending this isn’t what you want.”

His body moves in sync with mine, his breathing ragged and shallow. I grab his hips, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he’s holding back even now. My hand slides around him, gripping his cock, and I stroke him faster; his hips jerk, head snapping back as he moans my name, raw and desperate, spilling himself over my hand and onto the sheets.

“Good boy,”

I murmur against his ear, and I feel him shudder beneath me.

I straighten up, my hands gripping his hips harder, and thrust deeper, faster. The pleasure builds like fire, consuming everything in its path, fingers digging into his skin as I lose control, my rhythm faltering.

“, harder.” He moans.

“Fucking hell, Ryker,”

I groan, the release crashing over me like a storm, and I empty myself inside him. My body trembling, each thrust a chaotic, desperate attempt to hold onto the feeling a second longer.

When it’s too much, I collapse against him, my chest pressing against his back, both of us trying to catch our breath.

“,”

he murmurs softly, his head turning slightly toward me.

I press my lips to the side of his neck, lingering for a moment. “I know, Ryk. I fucking know,”

I whisper. The words are heavy with everything we can’t say yet—everything we’ve been fighting for too long.

I pull back slowly, withdrawing from him, and give him room to move. He shifts to face me, his lips curving into that familiar, mischievous smile that always drives me insane.

“Next time, I’ll be fucking Aspen or Bryn while you fuck me,”

he chuckles, the mocking edge softening the weight of the moment.

That smile tugs a smirk out of me. He’s testing me, gauging how I’ll react to the idea of sharing him.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep steady. “Bryn… there’s something about her I can’t trust; she feels off, Aspen, though…”

I trail off, the images of her and Knox still burning in my mind.

I’m next. I don’t care if Knox thinks he has some kind of claim on her.

She’s ours now—unless… A sharp pang twists in my stomach, unless she won’t want us after being with him. Aspen doesn’t seem like the type to just jump into bed with four guys on a whim.

“You’re thinking about her.”

Ryker says, dragging me back to the present.

“Yeah. Sorry, Ryk.”

I sit next to him, studying his face as he gets dressed. “You okay?”

“I’m good.”

He winks at me with that flirty smile that always drives me insane. “I’m always good after you fuck me.”

“Oh, really? Then you should let me do it more often.”

I cup his cheek, letting my thumb brush against his stubbled jaw.

A knock on the door breaks the moment, and Ryker stands quickly like he’s been caught doing something wrong. I sigh and lie back on the bed, arms crossed behind my head, stretching out. I know Ryker still struggles with the idea of the others seeing us in any kind of intimate way, but I couldn’t care less.

“Come in,”

I call out.

The door opens, and Ethan steps inside. His blond hair is cropped short on the sides, longer on top, and messy like he just ran his hand through it. His sharp blue eyes flick between me and Ryker, assessing.

“I finished the rounds, and I’m spending the night with Bryn in my room,”

Ethan says, leaning against the doorframe.

“Okay, sure. Just lock everything upstairs,”

I reply with a nod. He hesitates for a moment before closing the door behind him.

“Knox is going to lose his shit when he finds out you let Ethan sleep with Bryn,”

Ryker chuckles, shaking his head.

Knox has been out for Bryn ever since she cockblocked him with Aspen a night ago. And once you’re on Knox’s shit list, there’s no coming back from it.

“Do the girls know about us?”

Ryker asks, sitting in the chair in the corner of my room, spreading his muscular thighs. His jeans stretch tight around them, drawing my eyes for a second too long.

“About us?”

My gaze snaps up, and I smirk. “You and me?”

He laughs low and easy, his hands draped over the armrests. “No, us—the BloodHawks.”

I shake my head, leaning back against the wall. “No. We told them we were soldiers, and that was it.”

If we’d told the girls that day—the day we found them—that we were dishonorably discharged soldiers turned mercenaries, Aspen would’ve kept shooting.

“You think Knox or Dante will tell them?”

Ryker’s eyes stay locked on me, trying to gauge my thoughts.

“I don’t think so,”

I reply honestly, leaning back into the bed. “Bryn might take it cool, but Aspen… I don’t know. She’s unpredictable as fuck.”

Ryker nods, letting his head fall back against the chair. “Fuck, I need to get some sleep, .”

He stands and heads for the door.

“You know you can sleep here, right?”

I say, keeping my tone casual but laced with some edge to it I can’t hide.

Unlike the girls’ rooms—untouched since we moved here after the plague—ours were redone. King-size beds, nightstands, closets, and dark walls. Each of us made our rooms our sanctuaries.

“I know.”

His voice drops to a whisper, eyes heavy with something he won’t say aloud, and I offer him a small, understanding smile as he turns and walks out, quietly closing the door behind him.

Once alone, I strip off my clothes and lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

The BloodHawks. Knox gave our unit that name after we left the army. For a year, we all went back to our homes, trying to pretend we could live normal lives. But after spending most of our lives in the military, it was impossible.

Knox had the idea: form a mercenary unit and take the jobs no one else would touch. The pay was good, and more importantly, no one but Knox and Dante decided our missions or our fates.

It wasn’t easy; we were angry and bitter. Everything went to hell thanks to a shitty captain with a hidden agenda, and I hope that fucker caught the plague and died a horrific death.

I sigh heavily. Fuck, I can’t sleep.

Throwing on a pair of sweatpants, I head upstairs. In the open living space, Dante is on the couch, a drink in one hand and a book in the other.

“Can’t sleep, ?”

He takes a slow sip, his gaze steady over the rim of his cup.

“Yeah.”

I pour myself a drink and sit across from him. “Knox and Aspen,”

I say with a dry chuckle, but there’s a storm brewing inside me. It’s not jealousy—it’s fear. Fear that the door to her is already closed.

Dante laughs, looking up from his book. “We all heard.”

“And you and Ryker?”

His eyes glint with knowing mischief.

I smirk, raising my glass in a silent toast.

“Now Ethan’s down there with Bryn,”

he says, shaking his head. “Everyone’s fucking in this place now.”

I snort. “Do you think Aspen will still be open to you or me?”

Dante had his moments with her, like I did.

He considers it, then shrugs with that calm confidence of his. “I think so. She found these magazines on the back of the shelves.”

“Magazines?”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“BDSM magazines,”

Dante says, and a slow, devilish grin spreads across his face. “Now our little doll is curious about the lifestyle.”

“Fuck,”

I grunt, the thought hitting me like a punch to the chest.

“Fuck, indeed,”

he echoes, his grin widening as he takes another sip.

“I think those were from one of the women that worked here. I remember Ryker mentioning one of them was a dominatrix in her free time.”

He had two women working here. One was also ex-army, but the other was a civilian who was good with computers. However, once the plague started, they left, and we never heard about them again.

I shake my head; the thought of Aspen in her room reading those, fuck me.

“I think we should mention the copper IUDs to the girls,” I say.

Dante shifts, his gaze meeting mine, sharp and assessing. “It’s the safest option, mate. Those condoms have been sitting in storage for years.”

The last thing we need is one of them getting pregnant.

Dante exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’ve thought about that.”

“You can do it?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah. If they want to. It’s their choice.”

I nod back. “I’ll ask them tomorrow.”

Leaning onto the couch, I let out a slow breath.

Fuck. How things have changed.