Page 46

Luka's hand rested on my lower back as we approached the mourners. Every point of contact sent electricity through me, wildly inappropriate arousal mixing with grief in a cocktail that made me dizzy.

I was getting hard at my patient's funeral. My psychological defects multiplied daily.

"North entrance," Lo murmured, somehow maintaining a mournful expression while scanning for threats. "Security everywhere. Prometheus isn't taking chances."

Luka went rigid against me, eyes scanning the perimeter. I forced myself not to follow his gaze, remembering his instructions to act normal.

"I need to get to the service," I said, pushing aside the growing tension. "Will you be okay?"

Luka gave a sharp nod, jaw clenched. "Lo stays with you. I'll maintain visual from the east side. Diego from the west." His thumb stroked once against my spine, an unconscious gesture that felt shockingly intimate. "Signal if you need anything."

They separated, Lo taking position beside me while Luka and Diego flanked the gathering. Even through my grief, I couldn't help tracking Luka's movement, the controlled power of him in that perfectly tailored suit.

"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with his presence," Lo murmured, nodding subtly toward a figure near the refreshments. "The cowboy Judge."

I followed his gaze. Rhadamanthys' Stetson was gone, perhaps in deference to the funeral setting, but everything else about him screamed "cowboy." Rhadamanthys, the Judge we'd encountered at the café. His dark eyes swept over the gathering.

"Why is he here?" I whispered.

"Judges appear when power shifts," Lo explained quietly. "They're like vultures circling before the kill."

Focus, Vincent. You're here for Michael.

The memorial garden stretched before us, white chairs arranged facing a simple podium.

Michael's casket dominated the space, draped in white roses and forget-me-nots.

The photos destroyed me: Michael graduating, hiking, proposing to David.

Each image proof of a life cut short because he'd had the misfortune of being my patient.

My hands trembled as I sat. The guilt threatened to drown me, but under it lurked something else. Rage. Pure, clean rage at the man standing at the garden's edge like death itself.

"You okay, doc?" Lo's voice held unexpected gentleness. "You're white as virgin silk."

I almost laughed at the imagery. Nothing about me felt virginal anymore, not after Luka had corrupted me so thoroughly. "I'm managing."

David sat in the front row, shoulders caved inward. Last month he'd thanked me for helping Michael work through commitment fears. Said I'd given them a future.

Now that future waited in polished mahogany.

The service began, but I existed in two realities.

In one, a minister spoke of peace while mourners wept.

In the other, predators circled through my earpiece: Luka tracking positions, Diego noting exits, Lo watching for threats.

My peaceful world collided with Luka’s world of violence in this sacred space.

Movement in my peripheral vision made my stomach drop.

Todd. Of course he'd be here; he worked adjacent to Michael's field.

My ex navigated through mourners in a charcoal suit that emphasized everything I'd once found attractive.

The confident stride, the perfect styling, the way he owned any space he entered.

"What's wrong?" Lo whispered.

"My ex," I muttered. "Left side, gray suit."

Lo's perfect eyebrows rose. "Oh, this should be delicious. Luka's going to lose his absolute shit."

Heat flooded my face as Luka's head snapped toward us across the garden. Even at a distance, his laser focus felt physical. Possessive. Territorial.

Through my earpiece: "Who the fuck is that? If he touches him, I'll rip his fingers off one by one."

A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with fear. The possessive rage in his voice, directed at a stranger just for approaching me...

"How romantic," Lo murmured. "Nothing says 'I love you' quite like dismemberment threats."

"Rhadamanthys is moving," Diego reported. "Approaching the north section. He appears to be watching someone. "

The service concluded. Mourners began their slow procession to pay final respects. A familiar voice called my name as I stood to join them.

"Vincent!" Todd approached through the dispersing crowd. "I wasn't sure you'd be here. It's been weeks."

"I've been busy." I extracted myself. His cologne hung in the air between us, the scent that once intoxicated me now cloying my nostrils.

"We worked on the children's hospital wing together," Todd explained, his hand finding my forearm. "But more importantly, where have you been? I've called, texted, and even went by your apartment. The whole place was ransacked. Are you in trouble?"

"My apartment." Cold clarity hit me. Prometheus's men had searched the place.

"Personal matters," I said, trying to reclaim my arm.

His grip tightened. "Vincent, you can talk to me. If someone's threatening you..."

"Take your hands off my man right fucking now."

Luka's voice came from directly behind me, low and deadly quiet. Every head in our vicinity turned.

Todd scowled. "Excuse me? We're having a private conversation."

Luka prowled forward. Todd unconsciously stepped back. Smart man. Luka moved like a predator, violence seeping from every calculated step, eyes locked on Todd's hand still gripping my arm.

"I said," Luka repeated, reaching out to peel Todd's fingers away one by one slowly, "take your fucking hands off him."

Todd jerked his hand back, face flushing. "Who the hell do you think you are? "

"I'm the man who's going to feed you your own fingers if you touch him again." Luka's arm coiled around my waist, yanking me against his side hard enough to empty my lungs. "He's mine now."

Before I could process the words, Luka's hand cupped my neck and hauled me into a kiss that belonged in a bedroom, not a cemetery.

His mouth crashed against mine, hungry and demanding. When I gasped, his tongue invaded, claiming every corner of my mouth, stroking against mine with filthy promise.

I fucking melted, my bones liquefying, my higher brain functions shutting down one by one until only a primal need remained.

Every carefully constructed boundary I'd built as Dr. Vincent Matthews crumbled.

My hands fisted in his lapels, initially to push him away but somehow pulling him closer instead.

He kissed me like he was trying to crawl inside my mouth, one hand gripping my neck while the other pressed my hips against his.

I was hard in seconds. At my patient's funeral. With my ex watching. And I didn't care.

Luka's cock pressed against my hip through our suits, just as hard as mine. He ground against me slightly, just enough to make me whimper into his mouth. The sound seemed to inflame him further. The kiss turned savage, claiming, his teeth catching my bottom lip.

When he finally released me, I stood panting.

Todd's expression had morphed from concern to revulsion. "Jesus Christ, Vincent. At a funeral? I thought you had some decency."

Luka laughed, dark and amused. "You wouldn't know decent if it bit you in the ass."

"Excuse me?" Todd stepped forward, fists clenched.

Instead of meeting the challenge, Luka looked him up and down dismissively. "There's nothing decent about the way he screams my name every night, Todd. "

The words hit like lightning. I stood frozen, arousal and mortification warring in my chest as Todd sputtered. But under the embarrassment, something darker unfurled. The possessive claim, the public marking... It did things to me I'd never experienced.

I wanted more. Wanted Luka to keep going, to make Todd run, to claim me so thoroughly everyone here would know exactly who I belonged to.

"Gentlemen," Lo materialized between them like smoke, "as delicious as this testosterone display is, we are at a funeral. Save the dick measuring for later?"

Todd's face flushed deeper. "I don't know what's happened to you, Vincent, but this isn't you. When you're ready to act like an adult, call me." He glanced at Luka with disgust. "Enjoy your... phase."

As he stalked away, Lo leaned close. "While that was both horrifying and hot as hell, Rhadamanthys is watching. He seems quite entertained by your little display."

Reality crashed back. The kiss aftershocks still rolled through me, but I forced myself to focus.

"I need to say goodbye to Michael first," I said.

Luka's expression softened. His hand stayed possessively on my lower back as I purchased a white rose from the elderly vendor, carrying it to Michael's casket.

Standing there, I felt the divide in me sharpen. Dr. Vincent Matthews would be horrified by that display, by the arousal still pulsing through me at a patient's funeral. But this new Vincent, the one Luka was creating? He wanted to be claimed again, harder, where everyone could see.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," I whispered to the casket. "But I promise your death won't be meaningless. "

When I looked up, Luka watched me, his eyes revealing layers of emotion too tangled to name. Possession, yes, but also understanding. Maybe even admiration.

"I've never hated anyone before," I said quietly as we turned to leave. "But I hate Prometheus. For what he did to Michael. For what he's done to you. For everything."

"We'll make him pay," Luka promised, guiding me toward the path.

Through our earpieces, Diego reported success. Tracking devices placed, signals transmitting. We finally had a way to find Prometheus, to follow him home.

We were nearly at the parking area when a cultured voice called out.

"Dr. Matthews?"

My blood turned to ice. A silver-haired man in an expensive suit approached us, his presence commanding instant attention. But it wasn't his immaculate appearance that stopped my breath. It was his eyes. Cold, calculating, familiar.

Prometheus.