Page 11 of Revenge Saints (BloodHawks Duet #2)

“H aving trouble with your prisoner?”

Roman’s question slides down the stairs, thick with amusement. He lounges there like a king watching a servant fumble a leash, shaking his head at me.

Condescending jerk.

“He’s being difficult,” I reply, eyes on him. “But I’ll get through to him.”

Either that or Roman takes care of him, but it would be a shame.

I knew he had feelings for Aspen. Him and Knox both. But I didn’t realize how deep that bond ran. How much she’s inside them. Still… that’s leverage. If she’s their weakness, I’ll use it.

Roman rises, moving with a lazy, predatory swagger in every step. His smirk is sharp and smug.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, brushing a hand through his hair as he comes toward me. “I know Dante. He’s not built to break. He’s built to fight. You won’t turn him.”

He’s almost as tall as Dante. A little leaner and older. But when he touches me?

Electric. Wild. Like fire under my skin.

He’s in dark cargo pants and that black shirt he wears like a weapon. My breath catches when his hand wraps around my throat.

“Maybe if you fuck him,” he whispers, thick with filth.

I shake my head, jaw tight. “That won’t work. Not yet.”

He laughs, a low, cruel sound that vibrates through his chest.

“That Aspen girl must have a magic pussy,” he says with a grin. “Got Dante and Knox wrapped around her like fucking toys.”

I feel the sting in that comment, but I don’t show it. I hold still, my breath steady.

“They like them innocent,” I murmur. “Sweet but with fire. Like she doesn’t know what she’s worth yet.”

He steps back just enough to study me.

“Will she be a problem?” His fingers tighten around my neck, and I try to pull his hand away, but he doesn’t let go.

“No,” I snap. “She won’t. ”

He doesn’t blink. Just keeps staring, waiting for the lie to crack.

“And you remember our deal,” I hiss. “You promised she wouldn’t be touched. Not by you. Not your men.”

His grip tightens again. My throat burns.

“I promised,” he says coolly, “as long as she follows the rules.”

“She will!” I gasp.

She has to, but not by his rules. She has to follow my own.

His gaze doesn’t soften, just lingers.

Then his hand drops to my leggings, thumb brushing the waistband.

“I can finally fuck you without hiding,” he growls, and then his mouth crashes into mine.

It’s not a kiss. It’s a show of power. There’s no warmth, no romance, just possession. Raw, punishing, addictive.

Ethan was possessive.

Roman? Roman is power. He doesn’t care about me; he wants to own me. At least, that’s what he thinks.

“Sir. We need you.”

Roman sighs, annoyed.

He releases my throat and steps away, always so calm, so in control.

“Later, Bryn.”

I nod, still catching my breath, and watch him disappear up the stairs.

I head to the bedroom, the one that used to be mine and Ethan’s. I gave up my space for Sean. I had to. Power isn’t about comfort; it’s about sacrifice. Strategy. Survival .

Ethan introduced me to Roman a week after our first night together. Thought he was doing me a favor. But the moment I saw Roman, I knew.

Ethan never stood a chance.

Roman isn’t the kind of man who shares power. Not with someone like Ethan, and when Ethan asked me to deliver a message to him? That was my opening.

All it took was one touch. A brush of skin, and Roman had me pinned to a tree, fucking me like I was his reward for conquest.

That was the beginning. That night. That fuck.

That’s when the plan started.

Let Ethan take the fall. Make it look like he killed me. Let the guys chase shadows while Roman took the base.

And I gave him the access codes. The paper the guys found with the cells, the woman’s holding. It was all me.

The only thing I didn’t count on? Knox changing the underground passcode.

Of course he did. That asshole could never share control either.

Aspen was supposed to wait here.

We had it all planned! Lock her in a bedroom; keep her safe until it was done. Then I’d tell her the truth. She would’ve been protected, watched over, and untouched. No one else would lay a hand on her.

She doesn’t see it yet, but she’s better off here. With me.

She thinks she likes them—Dante, Knox, and the rest—but the reality is she knows no better. They’re just using her like Ethan used me. If they saw her on a normal day before the plague, neither one of them would’ve given her the time of day .

And Roman? He won’t touch her. We have a deal, and he needs me.

Do I feel bad for betraying the guys?

Well… Max and Ryker, yes. A little.

But Dante and Knox? They deserved it.

They shut us out. Always kept the planning, the power, and the decisions in their tight little circle. They never asked what we wanted. Never treated us like equals. Knox especially had to rule everything. Always in control.

I don’t do well with rules. Never have, never will.

With Roman, it’s different. We share power. I say something, and he listens.

I told him to keep Dante alive; he did.

I told him Ethan was a liability, and Roman killed him.

I don’t trust Roman completely. I’m not stupid. Ethan looked just as devoted, and still, he flipped the second it suited him. He told me he’d share me with Roman after making me fuck Ryker, like I was just another part of his plan.

That was the moment I knew.

He’d do it again. Use me. Trade me. Sacrifice me.

I had to get ahead of it. There were too many faces in that base, too many masks I had to wear. It was exhausting trying to keep every version of myself straight.

That day, when I pretended to hate Roman when he kicked me in front of the others, it wasn’t just a performance. It hurt. But it had to look real. It had to work.

And it almost did .

The only thing that didn’t go to plan was Aspen.

I should’ve taken her myself. I should’ve known Roman’s men wouldn’t be a match for the guys.

She saved me once. Back then, I called her my sister. My anchor. My only real connection in that place, but I’m not her sister anymore.

She’s not my family. She’s the pawn I sacrificed for my future because I’ve finally learned the truth: no one’s coming to save me. Not Aspen. Not the guys. No one.

So I saved myself.

The men she saved me from weren’t strangers. They weren’t just hunters.

They were from my old community.

And they were taking me to be traded.

That’s what Aspen never knew. That her act of mercy didn’t just save my life; it gave me the chance to rebuild it. To choose power over pain. To stop kneeling and start carving my own kingdom.

Even if I have to raze everything else to do it.

“Bryn?”

Sean’s call comes from the doorway. I open it to find him holding a fresh set of bandages.

“How is he?” I ask, arms crossing over my chest.

“Doing better,” Sean sighs. “Still weak. He needs a proper meal. Clean water. If you really want him to heal, he’s going to need more than what he’s getting.”

I roll my eyes. Of course I want him better. But fully healed ?

Dante’s a beast. He could tear Roman in half with his bare hands. He’s too dangerous to be at full strength.

“I’ll let the cook know,” Roman informs, stepping closer. Sean gives a nod and walks off.

Roman turns to me. “We’ll need Aspen to keep Dante in check once he’s strong enough.”

He looks at me with a hint of a smirk. “Unless you plan on using that gorgeous body of yours to convince him.”

He doesn’t know I’ve already tried.

The day of the attack, I offered myself up again. And for the second time, Dante turned me down.

There’s no seducing him. And that pisses me off way more than it should.

“You should try the radio again,” I say, deflecting, but Roman’s eyes are back on me.

So I smile. Then I pull my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor.

I drop to my knees and crawl toward him; I keep my eyes locked on his. Roman closes the door behind him, leaning back against it, arms relaxed.

That fire in his gaze? It never wavers.

“Such a beautiful toy,” he groans, thick with hunger, and heat floods through me.

I crawl to him slowly, eyes locked on his as I reach for his belt, fingers working the buckle until he grabs my wrists, holding me in place.

“Do you miss him? ”

My brows furrow. “Who?”

His chuckle is dark, bitter, and full of venom. “Ethan.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course not.”

His grip tightens suddenly, making me gasp. “Was he rough with you?”

I shake my head, breath catching. “Not enough.”

Roman’s laugh rumbles deep in his chest as he yanks me to my feet.

“So you do like it rough,” he says, not a question, a promise.

“I do,” I breathe.

“Good,” he growls, dragging me against him, his mouth at my ear. “Because I’m going to fucking break you, Bryn. Ruin you so completely no other man will ever touch you again.”

Before I can react, he throws me onto the bed.

My body bounces against the mattress, but he’s already on me, pinning me down with his full weight. I hear the zip of his pants, feel the burn of denim as he rips mine down, and then.

Without warning, he thrusts into me.

I scream, my back arching from the sheer shock of it, sharp pain laced with raw need that makes my thighs tremble.

It hurts. God, it hurts, but I crave it.

I live for it.

“Roman!” I cry out louder, the sound echoing off the walls, loud enough for Dante to hear, and I want him to.

“You love this,” Roman growls into my ear as he thrusts harder, his hips punishing me with every brutal snap. “You fucking love it when I take you like this, no slow build, no foreplay, just my cock splitting you open like the filthy little slut you are.”

The headboard slams against the wall, rhythm savage, relentless. My body trembles beneath him; the pleasure and pain twist so tightly I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

My eyes roll back. My fingers claw at the sheets. His voice, his cock, his control —it’s too much and never enough.

A shiver cuts through me. The pressure is building fast and sharp, and I’m so close it feels like I’m unraveling under his weight.

“Yes,” I moan, breath ragged. “I love it so much.”

He grunts, the slick sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room. One hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back, forcing my spine into a deep arch.

“I’m taking your ass,” he growls, feral. “Raw.”

My breath catches.

He pulls out of my soaked pussy, and I feel him press the thick head of his cock against my ass. I exhale, forcing myself to relax, his cock still dripping with my arousal.

A sharp moan escapes my lips.

Oh God…

He pushes in deeper, slow but unrelenting, one hand fisting my hair, the other braced against the small of my back. My nipples drag against the sheets, aching and hard.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he groans, sinking in to the hilt.

He grabs my hips and slams back into me.

Hard.

Rough .

Perfect.

My body jolts forward with every thrust, his grip bruising.

“This ass,” he pants, slapping it so hard it stings, “is a fucking monument.”

The burn spreads through my skin and only makes me hungrier .

Everything Roman does is brutal, primal, like he was built to ruin me, and I was made to be ruined.

“You want it harder?” He growls, mouth against my ear.

“Yes,” I whimper. “Please.”

And he delivers.

Each thrust is more savage than the last, shaking the bed, knocking the breath from my lungs.

His hand slides around my hip, fingers finding my clit. He circles it, sending jolts of pleasure spiraling through my core.

My thighs start to tremble. My breath hitches. I move my hips to meet him, desperate to ride the wave building inside me.

I’m his. My body, my mind—he makes sure I feel it.

“Roman,” I moan, nearly sobbing his name as the heat builds into a frenzy.

My orgasm hits, shattering me. My body convulses around him, pulsing and clenching, and Roman lets out a guttural groan as he slams in one final time.

I feel the warmth of his release, the hot spill of cum as he buries himself deep, hands tight on my hips, possessive even in the aftermath.

“Fuck,” he growls, stilling. “I love the way you take me.”

I’m trembling, dazed, but I manage to smile back at him .

“I love the way you claim me.”

He smirks, that glint of menace never leaving his eyes.