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Yelena

I hear the door click open before I see him. My body moves on instinct, pushing up from the couch as I turn toward the entrance. Aithan steps inside, his movements deliberate, his suit jacket draped over his forearm, his white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows. His presence alone dominates the space, filling every inch of the penthouse with an unspoken authority.

The sight of him after a long day sends a strange warmth through my chest, and before I can overthink it, I close the distance between us.

"Welcome home," I say softly, reaching up to embrace him.

His hand comes up, stopping me mid-motion. "Don’t," he murmurs, his voice rough, edged with something unreadable.

I freeze, my arms falling limply to my sides. A sting pricks beneath my ribs.

He doesn’t want me to welcome him?

Aithan must have seen the flicker of hurt flash across my face because he exhales sharply and reaches for me, but I step back, my expression carefully neutral. “Forget it,” I say lightly, turning on my heel before he can say anything else.

But I don’t get far.

Aithan follows, his steps unhurried but purposeful. Before I can disappear down the hall, his fingers wrap around my wrist, tugging me to a stop. His grip isn’t forceful, but it’s unyielding.

“Yelena,” he says, his voice quieter now, coaxing. “I need to shower first.”

I glance over my shoulder, arching a brow. “Before I can touch you?”

His jaw flexes. “I need to wash the grime off.” There’s a darkness in his gaze, something restrained but potent. “It’s been a long night.”

I stare at him, trying to read between the lines. “Grime?”

Aithan holds my gaze for a beat before sighing, rubbing the back of his neck. “I finally got hold of the moles in the council,” he says, his voice low. “The process of extracting the information was… messy.”

I blink, processing his words. Messy. My mind fills in the blanks—blood, violence, a brutality I’ve only glimpsed. Aithan does not need to say more.

A chill slides down my spine, but not from fear. No, what I feel is something darker, something unsettlingly warm.

I hold his gaze for a moment longer before nodding. “Go shower,” I say, my voice steady. “Then tell me everything.”

Aithan studies me, searching for something, but whatever he finds seems to satisfy him. His grip loosens on my wrist before he finally releases me, stepping past me and heading for the bathroom.

I watch him go, my pulse thrumming, my mind already racing.

As soon as Aithan disappears into the bathroom, I sink onto the edge of the bed, my mind spinning.

Messy.

The word lingers in the air like the echo of a gunshot. It paints images in my mind—dark rooms, blood staining the floor, Aithan looming over his prey like a god deciding their fate. He is closing in on our enemies, hunting them, making them pay in ways they deserve.

A slow heat unfurls in my stomach. I should be disturbed by this. But I’m not.

I lean back, resting my hands on the sheets as my pulse quickens. Aithan is a protector, a killer, a force that bends the world to his will. He doesn’t just destroy his enemies—he annihilates them. And knowing that he’s doing it for me, for us, stirs something primal inside me.

I want to reward him.

I stand and begin peeling away my clothes, my movements slow, deliberate. The silk of my dress pools at my feet, my lace lingerie follows, until there’s nothing between me and the cool air of the room. I crawl onto the bed, my body on full display, my naked legs seductively crossed at the ankle.

By the time the bathroom door swings open, steam billowing around him, Aithan steps out with nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips. He freezes mid-step when his pewter eyes land on me.

The reaction is instant.

His gaze darkens, sweeping over me like a slow, deliberate caress.

His fingers flex at his sides, his chest rising and falling with controlled restraint.

I see it—the raw hunger flickering behind his eyes, the instant approval in the way his lips part slightly, as if he’s considering how best to devour me.

I hold his gaze, my voice low, teasing. “I thought you deserved a welcome home gift.”

Aithan exhales harshly, running a hand down his face before shaking his head.

“Yelena.” His voice is rough, a warning laced with need.

“Yes, husband?”

Without saying another word, the towel hits the floor. Aithan closes the distance between us, his bare feet padding softly on the fluffy carpet. He stands at the edge of the bed, his powerful presence filling the room. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, and my skin craves his touch.

And then he’s on me.

Aithan's gaze travels slowly down my body, taking in every curve and dip, as if he is undressing me all over again with his eyes. I feel exposed, yet utterly desired as his gaze lingers on my breasts, their peaks already hardened in anticipation.

“You are breathtaking, Yelena.” Aithan's deep voice sending shivers down my spine. His accent, a mix of his Greek heritage and the refined tone of a well-traveled man, sends a thrill through me.

“You're not so bad yourself.” I smile, my heart pounding in my chest. I love the way he’s looking at me, as if I am the only woman in the world.

He reaches out, his large hand gently cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing against my lower lip. “I can't get enough of you.”

I lean into his touch, my eyes closing as I enjoy the sensation of his rough fingers against my soft skin. Aithan's touch is both gentle and possessive, a perfect reflection of the man himself.

“I want you, Yelena. I want to feel every inch of you against me.”

“Then take me. I'm yours.”

Aithan's eyes darken with a hunger that mirrors my own.

He leans down, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that starts off tenderly but quickly escalates into something wilder. His mouth moves with purpose, devouring me, claiming me as his own. I respond eagerly, my hands tangling in his damp hair, pulling him closer.

His kiss was like a storm, sweeping me away in a torrent of passion. I can taste the mint from his toothpaste, mixed with the heady flavor that was uniquely Aithan. His tongue dances with mine, a sensual battle for dominance that leaves me breathless.

As the kiss deepens, his hand travels down my body, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist before boldly grasping my bum, pulling me closer. I feel his arousal, hard and insistent, pressing against my hip, and I moan into his mouth, my body arching towards him.

Breaking the kiss, Aithan trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck, his breath hot against my sensitive skin. I tilt my head back, offering myself to him, my hands now exploring his broad shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath his smooth skin.

“You drive me wild. I can't wait any longer.”

With that, he lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he lays me back down on the bed. I feel his hardness against my core, a delicious pressure that makes me ache for him.

Aithan's hands roam my body, his touch both reverent and demanding. He cups my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through me. I arch into his touch, my back bowing off the bed as I surrender to the sensations he evokes.

“You like that, don't you, my beautiful Yelena? You like it when I touch you here.”

I could only nod, my breath coming in short gasps as he continues to tease and please me. His fingers find the sensitive spot between my thighs, and he gently strokes it, eliciting a soft moan from deep within my throat.

“Please, Aithan. I need you inside me.”

He chuckles darkly; the sound sending a thrill through me.

“As you wish, my love.”

With that, he positions himself at my entrance, his eyes never leaving mine. I feel the broad head of his cock pressing against my wetness, and I bite my lip, anticipation and pleasure warring within me.

In one smooth motion, Aithan thrust forward, filling me completely. I cry out, my body welcoming him, the sensation of being stretched and filled overwhelming me. He pauses, giving me a moment to adjust to his size, before beginning a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“You feel so good. So tight around me.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, my hands gripping his shoulders, urging him on.

“Yes, Aithan. Please don't hold back.”

He obliges, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I match his rhythm, my hips rising to meet his, our bodies moving as one, a primal dance of desire.

Aithan's lips find mine again, his kiss fierce and demanding, mirroring the passion of our lovemaking. I taste the salt of his skin, the tang of our desire, as our tongues duel, each claiming ownership of the other.

As our passion intensifies, Aithan's hands grip my hips, guiding me to meet his powerful thrusts. I can feel his control slipping, his primal side emerging as he pounded into me, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

“I can't... I can't hold on much longer.”

His eyes meet mine, a silent communication passing between us. Then, with a final, powerful thrust, he surrenders to the pleasure, his body tensing as he fills me with his release, a hot rush of sensation that sends me spiraling into my own orgasm.

I cry out, my body convulsing around him, waves of pleasure washing over me. Aithan's name is a mantra on my lips as I cling to him, our hearts pounding in unison.

As our shared climax subsides, Aithan collapses onto the bed beside me, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. I turn towards him, my hand reaching out to trace the strong lines of his face.

“That was incredible.”

“You are incredible, Yelena. And guess what?”

“What?”

“You are all mine.”

We lay still, our bodies entwined, the air heavy with the aftermath of our passion. Aithan's hand rests on my hip, his thumb absently stroking my skin, a silent promise of more to come.

The afterglow still clings to the air, heavy and intoxicating, but my mind refuses to sink into the hazy satisfaction that Aithan has left me in. Instead, I trace slow, absent-minded patterns across his bare chest, my fingers gliding over the ridges of muscle, the faint scars that mark his body like war medals.

He has killed for me.

He will burn the world for me.

And he will do it again if situation warrants it.

But we need to be smart about it.

I prop myself up on my elbow and look at him, my electric blue eyes locking onto his pewter-gold ones. "You need to make an example out of Orestes," I murmur, my voice soft but laced with steel.

Aithan watches me, his expression unreadable, though I feel the shift in him—his body, once languid and loose from pleasure, now coils with sharp focus.

"You want him dead?" His voice is calm, controlled.

I shake my head. "Not just dead. Make his death useful. Make it serve a purpose.”

Aithan raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what do you suggest?"

I settle closer to him, my palm pressing flat against his chest, grounding myself in his heat. "Do not execute Orestes in private. Make it public. Make it loud. Let everyone see that you’ve uncovered a traitor and decide his fate in their presence."

"And?"

"And let the other persons involved lead you to Lazaro."

His jaw ticks. "No one betrays me and lives."

"They won’t," I assure him. "But we need Lazaro, and killing everyone too soon won’t give us that. My brother can help. If you let Viktor position men to follow the traitors, we can track them straight to Lazaro."

Aithan considers this, his fingers skimming absently along my waist as he weighs the options. His mind is a weapon, always working, always calculating the best route to eliminate threats.

"You think Lazaro will come running if his cohorts reach out to him?" he asks.

I nod. "Lazaro is careful, but he’s also arrogant. If he sees an opportunity to assert himself, he’ll take it."

Aithan smirks, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You really are a dangerous little thing, aren’t you?"

I arch an eyebrow. "You married me, didn’t you?"

His chuckle is dark, approving. "That I did."

There’s a pause, heavy with understanding between us.

Aithan tilts his head slightly, watching me. "You really trust Viktor to pull this off?"

I don’t hesitate. "Yes."

Aithan exhales, rubbing a hand along his jaw, then nods. "Fine. We’ll go to New York tomorrow. Let’s see what your brother has to say about setting a trap."

I settle back against him, pressing my lips against his collarbone in silent approval.

Tomorrow, we start hunting.