Page 25 of Stockholm (Angel of Mercy #1)

The Keeper

M y blood sings at the first taste of her kiss.

That rush goes straight to my head. Straight to my dick. Which I’m grinding against her like a desperate fucking teenager.

Her small fingers mold to mine, allowing me to pin them to the bed. Her compliance has me smiling against her jaw as I suck on her neck.

She’s letting me do it. This hadn’t been the plan when I came in here, but things had happened quickly after I’d checked the cameras and seen Jesse on top of her.

He was going to fuck things up by jumping on her too quickly.

She needs to be led to accepting that she wants us, preferably before she’s forced to be.

Jesse’s impulsiveness will ruin it, so I’d intercepted a little bit. The time will come when he can have her, when we could both have her.

Patience is key.

This evening, the only thing we need to do is to replace her melancholy over Eric and her anniversary with thoughts of us. Of how she wants us. Of how she wants to be here with us.

The first step had been planting the idea of desire in her.

Easy. That was done the first time I’d met her at the bank.

Even if her sweet little head had tried to suppress her attraction to me, I saw the way her pupils dilated while we talked.

The way her tongue had wet her lips as I’d spoken to her about opening a bank account.

She looked at me and liked what she saw.

It was easy to read her from the bar. I’d been on her mind .

Just like she’d been on mine.

My fixation on her hadn’t been part of the plan, but it was impossible to resist. Hence all the time spent in the woodline of her property, watching her.

She was under my skin before she even knew I was there.

When I’d watched the quiet woman and her little cat in the garden, on the porch.

This was the wife of the monster? It just didn’t fit.

It didn’t make sense. I kept watching and watching, waiting for her to do something that explained the confliction.

Slowly since bringing her here, it’s become more and more clear that the reason behind my desire for her is simple. It’s just her , just Emma. She’s deeply good, and that is rare.

Unfortunately for her, that only makes me want to dominate her more. Everything about her is so pure, so fucking sweet. I just want to chain her to the bed and consume her whole. Never let Eric lay his eyes on her again.

Having my hands on her finalizes the thought for me. She’s mine. My toy to play with.

Just like I am right now .

But…I do need to reign it in before I fuck her into the bed. That’s not the plan. I want her to yearn. To beg .

I pull back, my hair hanging messily as I take in her expression. Her heavy eyes, flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open.

Perfect. I need to leave her just like this.

“What do you think, Emma? Can you be good if I give you a little more freedom here? Will you listen to a few rules if I let you leave your room?” I can’t resist the pull of her, and lean down to nip again at her bottom lip, my fingers tightening around hers.

She whimpers, a tiny noise I almost don’t catch and it nearly causes my undoing. It’s like she’s never been touched like this before. Jesus, what the fuck has Eric been doing with her? Holding hands? Missionary in the dark?

“I…I can do that. Just please let me see Bo. I miss him.”

I hum with her lip between my teeth, and she tightens below me at the feeling. “Hmm. I think we can do that.” I release her lip and whisper into her ear. “Just tell me first how you’ll be a good girl for me.”

She pauses, and the anticipation kills me. She knows she shouldn’t say this. That they aren’t just words, but a small form of submission.

But she wants to see her friend.

I pull back so I can see her face. Study the blush of her cheeks. She looks so fucking pretty when she’s flustered.

She licks her lips nervously, but her eyes have latched onto mine like I’m anchoring her. I hold them, giving her the connection that she seeks.

“I can be good…” Her words catch for a moment, and she swallows. “...a good girl,” she whispers and the words go straight to my cock.

I want to fuck her. I want to own the mouth that says things like that to me. I want to hear her say this over and over again until she’s screaming as she falls apart beneath me.

“Good,” I say instead, pulling on all my self-restraint to sit up and leave the bed. “You get yourself ready, and I’ll bring you down for dinner with Bo. Okay?”

Her eyes brighten and she nods. “Thank you.”

Her gratefulness is genuine, and it feels good to have it. Things have taken a sharp turn, and now it feels good to make her happy.

Shit.

I don’t know how that makes me feel, so I leave the room without responding to her.

Sliding the lock on her door is like exhaling. Not having her underneath me, looking up at me with those wide eyes, clarity returns to my thoughts and I shake my head, walking away.

She’s a powerful little drug, Emma Seaborn.

A rumble of laughter comes from below, and I descend the stairs at the end of the hallway to look for its source—Jesse. And surely Bo as well, since that’s currently the only source of Jesse’s happiness.

The living room to the cabin is open and comfortable, furnished by my parents when they had this place built.

Looking around the fireplace and collection of soft armchairs and love seats, you’d think this place belonged to a large family rather than as the safe house for the organization my family belongs to.

Mercy. The very core of my purpose on Earth—to help my family run things and save as many victims as possible.

There are several safe houses that we use, always disguised as regular ones. You’d never know the second floor was outfitted with several rooms for…containing people.

Bookshelves line the western walls, with giant windows opposite. Dad designed this for my bookworm mother, so that she could sit in this room and select her next read as the sun rose, shining on her collection.

She’s going to absolutely lose her shit when she sees that Jesse has emptied—however carefully—several of her shelves into a cardboard box, replacing them instead with Bo’s preferred thriller mystery novels. She loves her nephew like he’s her own son, but there are limits.

I hear them before I see them.

Bo’s pressed against one of the bookcases, his face thrust forward by Jesse’s fist in his hair so that it lies flat on a shelf, his hands gripping the edge on either side. Behind him, glued to his body like a shadow, stands Jesse, his other hand on his shoulder, pressing him against the bookcase.

He tugs slightly up on Bo’s hair, making him gasp, eyes falling open slightly as he’s forced to stare at the brand new books shoved in front of his face. Jesse bites his ear gently, grinding against him as he holds him in place.

“This is taking forever, Bo. Why aren’t you picking a book?” Jesse growls into his ear.

Based off the expression on Bo’s face, this game was on the edge of turning into a very public fuck. I don’t have a problem with that but we are expecting company.

“Landon and John are going to be here any minute if you want to take this somewhere else,” I say, and Bo’s eyes widen to find me at the bottom of the stairs, watching them.

Pretty sure I still make him nervous, despite how many times I’ve seen him pinned and groped this last week, all over the house. Jesse just can’t help himself.

“I don’t mind you being our audience again ,” Jesse says, tugging on Bo’s hair to give him access to the other side of his neck. He sucks the spot, groaning as he moves his way down Bo’s shoulder with his mouth. “They can wait til we’re done to give us the updates, can’t they Bo?”

Despite looking very much like he loves Jesse’s plans, he squeezes his eyes and shakes his head. “No, get off me.”

Jesse rumbles a laugh and nips sharply at his shoulder, forcing a quiet moan from Bo’s bitten lips. “I can’t. I just cannot get enough of you.”

Bo smiles into the shelf, then releases it with one hand and elbows Jesse in the ribs, which forces him to step backward and look down at Bo with a dangerous glint in his eye. Bo turns to walk away. “Do you not have a recovery period?”

Jesse just laughs, rubbing the spot Bo hit. “Not with you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bo plucks a book from the shelf and lowers into one of the armchairs. He peeks over at me. “When can I see Emma?”

Heading to the fridge, I pull out the ingredients to make her lunch and replaying the moment we just shared. Fuck, this woman was making it hard to stick to a plan. “I told her she could come down for dinner tonight.”

His eyes brighten. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah.” It would be good for her. Seeing Bo and how comfortable he’s gotten might help her adjust.

And there’s the fact I simply don’t want to keep her locked in that room any longer than necessary.

She’d needed it at first, to help break her from that iron loyalty to her husband, to her previous life.

That mental break had been a necessary evil.

But her mindset was slowly turning toward being here long term. Toward her new situation.

Toward me .

Making me the center of her world was essential, and it seemed to be working just fine, based on the look in her eyes when I’d kissed her just now.

Smirking at the thought of how easily she’d accepted me today, I wonder what tomorrow will look like. The day after that. I’d definitely distracted her from her disloyal husband and their anniversary. She didn’t need to waste a second crying over that fuck.

Not that I should care.

Jesse follows me into the kitchen area, sitting on a stool at the island and spinning so he can watch Bo read.

“He’s not going anywhere, you know. You don’t need to watch him so sharply,” I say quietly.

He cocks his head to the side, looking at me over his shoulder. “I’m not worried about him leaving. He’s happy here. I’ve made sure of it.”