Page 5 of The Clash of the Damned (The Titan Syndicate Saga #2)

Sloane

“ H oney, I’m home!” I call out as I enter the front door of the Hart Estate.

Quickly, I establish that no one is home as the place is still dark.

Thinking back to a movie I once saw, I giggle as I remember wishing I could be home all alone, and now is my chance.

This works in my favor because I don’t want them to know I only just got home, which would open up questions I don’t want to answer.

As it is, I took much longer with Eden than I wanted, and I had to take the long way there and back to make sure I wasn’t followed.

I decide that arranging dinner is a good place to start, and I walk to my favorite living room, scrolling through one of the delivery apps.

Quickly spotting my favorite Indian restaurant, I order some butter chicken, then I switch on the electric fireplace and soak in its warmth.

Fireplaces for ambience have always felt wasteful to me; the money could be better spent elsewhere.

But since this is not my money, and I’m missing the summer sun from our holiday, I lean into my guilty pleasure.

Sitting down on the sofa, I take off my boots and massage the ball of my foot through my socks.

Our holiday feels like a distant memory.

So much has happened in the days we’ve been home, yet I can’t stop thinking about the two weeks that I was Sloane the fiancé.

I was part of someone’s family. I mattered.

But the memories don’t change the plan I need to execute.

Reality is less pleasant than what must happen next.

When we heard of Dimitri Hart’s untimely death, we had no idea if Dom knew of us or not, so we needed a back up plan.

After Eden was in place, I risked my life by approaching and telling him the story of our heritage.

While it took some convincing on my part, eventually, he believed me.

According to the story passed down to me, our ancestors fell in love.

When that love wasn’t returned, the Sorcerer murdered my relative in a jealous fit of rage.

I would agree with the humans and think we are all legends if it wasn't for the fact that I exist and was raised hearing the stories of my ancestors.

Regardless of whose version of events you believe, after the Sorcerer’s ran to America and left us behind to fend for themselves, it’s a miracle we’ve survived as long as we have.

Or just sheer determination. It wasn’t a good time to be Supernatural back then, but we hid in the shadows until we too could finally make the trip to America.

It wasn’t until years later that a different ancestor of mine ran into another Sorcerer, and instead of having to fend for their life, they were instead met with remorse.

The deal was, if our family kept their mouth shut, every few years, the Sorcerers would help us with money.

It was never enough to truly get ahead, but it was enough to survive.

And I always tried to figure out why they wanted to help instead of executing us, as is the rule.

After all, compassion amongst the Supernaturals is rare.

Blood money, maybe? It was one of the many reasons why I didn’t fight this assignment.

I want answers about our history. Again, history repeats itself as Dom and I work together.

I wonder if he would feel the same if he knew what my family did to Hecate and why none of the empires know what happened to their almighty Goddess.

My phone rings, bringing me back to the present. It’s an unknown number, but I still answer it, knowing it could be Dad. I say nothing as I wait for the person to speak first.

“Can you talk?”

Relief courses through me as Dad’s familiar bass sounds on the line.

It’s quickly followed by paranoia, and I realize I need to double check I’m still home alone.

My hand raises, glowing a faint white as I drain electricity out of the grid, and the fireplace flickers.

I’m getting stronger; that was less than I normally take, and my magic stores are lasting longer than usual.

Flicking my wrist in the air, I release a spell to detect if a living presence is in the house with me.

When the spell returns that I’m alone, I confirm it’s safe to talk openly.

“How is the plan progressing?”

Here I thought he would care whether I’m okay while in the center of enemy territory, but I should know better.

I’ve done this dance with him too many times to count to expect a different outcome.

Mom was the only thing that brought out his humanity, and with her dead, he only cares about the stupid fucking plan.

Makes me wonder if he would even cry if I was killed in the crossfire while here enacting his revenge. There are so few of us left as it is.

“Better than we hoped. After I solidified the partnership with The Children of Christ, things became almost too easy. No one knows I’m helping things along. ”

A rebellious streak rears its head, and I’m tempted to tell Dom the full truth of why I’m here. It would be a great way to fuck up Dad’s precious plan. But…I know I will regret it if I do. So many years of my life would be wasted, and I’m many things, but spiteful or stupid is not one of them.

“Good. I’ve trained you well for this. Failure would be unacceptable. And your cover story?”

I’m suddenly tired and eager to get this call over with. So I let him think he is in control. “Well, you said I had to do whatever possible to sell it, and Dom has proposed I step into the role of his future wife, instead of using the Supernatural cover story we discussed.”

Dad is silent for a beat longer than necessary, and it makes me uncomfortable. “So he’s Dom now?” I don’t bother answering, knowing that was rhetorical. Neither of us thought I would need to sleep with the enemy, but I am my father’s daughter; I’m just doing what needs to be done.

“You’re taking it a bit far aren’t you?” Of course he judges my decisions.

It wasn’t his idea, it was mine. As I prepare my argument, he tries another approach.

“Are you at least being safe?” he asks, and I cringe inwardly.

First, his lack of outrage that his daughter is sleeping with the enemy hurts more than I thought it would.

But no adult child ever wants to have a sex discussion with their parent, and I’m no exception.

Everyone knows it’s happening; we just don’t talk about it, and we’re all happier that way.

Growing up on the run, there weren’t many opportunities for me to learn about sex.

Between what little mom told me and what I figured out with another one of my kind, porn movies helped me figure out the rest.

“Yes, Dad, I am.”

“Good. I’ll be in touch. ”

He ends the call, and I stare at it like a snake.

I whisper to the now dark phone, “I love you too, Dad.” I would give anything to have the version of him from when Mom was still around, when he was so full of life and love.

Now, it’s like he stopped loving me when she died.

I see how Dom loves his sisters, and it reminds me of what I used to have, and how I will never have that again.

“Sloane?” Dom calls out for me.

Shit, he is home. He could have heard that.

The intensity of him calling out gets louder as he storms into the living room.

“Imagine this. Giselle is finally negotiating and giving me everything I want. She’s even suggesting a merger, one I would be the head of, and the expansion plans are falling into place.

It’s been a long fucking day, and then I hear some very disturbing rumours. Would you like to know what they are?”

Guilt rears through my chest, and my heart races at the undertone of his accusation. I’ve never been more thankful that Dom isn’t one of the Supernaturals that can hear that. He was so close to catching me, which has me rattled, and I hide my shaking hands beneath my thighs.

“Well, hello to you too, handsome.” There are so many things I could have done, especially considering the conversation I just had, but the truth is the last thing he wants to hear. Cocking my head to the side, I calmly ask him, “Sure, why don’t you tell me?”

“There are rumours going around in the community that humans are talking about us. You know the rule, about remaining undetected and how the truth could threaten our livelihood. You said you understood my need to protect my family!”

Standing to face him, my anger flares. “And your first thought is to what, accuse me?” Dom opens his mouth to fling another accusation my way, and something inside me snaps.

“What about mine? How did the rules protect them? Why should I give a single fuck about your precious community when you’ve never cared about mine !”

Dom screams in rage and grabs me around the throat, slamming me into the wall.

It’s not enough to hurt me, but it’s definitely a warning shot.

While he caught me off guard, I don’t stay that way.

With the contact of his body, I drain his magic like my own personal battery.

He notices my glowing hands on his bicep and figures out what is happening.

It’s not enough to kill him, but it’s enough for him to get the message as he feels his magic deplete.

“You want to fight? Let’s go. I’m not fragile, and we both know it,” I goad him.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as something weighs on his mind, a decision I can’t see.

I need to turn this situation around, and fast, before it gets ugly.

I can fight him off me, which he knows, but that won’t deal with his anger, it will only make it worse.

I still need him, so I have to turn this around.

That doesn’t stop me from checking him out, despite the severity of our situation, and an idea forms.

“Does it turn you on to be rough with me?” I taunt. Finally, I break through to him as he grabs my chin and turns it against the wall, his face barely an inch from mine.

“If you endanger our way of life, I will place a death spell on you myself, regardless of what this is between us. ”

“Please. Your magic has barely recovered after Cannes, and we both know it. So instead of making pointless threats, are you going to fuck me or just pretend you don’t want to?”

We stare each other down, neither wanting to break as we wait for someone to make the first move.

Dom is the one to cave as he breaks first and kisses me greedily, hungrily, like I’m the very air he breathes.

The line between fucking and fighting is fragile, which has never been truer now.

Everything that happened between us was foreplay.

Fuck he is sexy in his three piece suit and tousled, dark blonde hair, his eyes stormy.

I rip his shirt open, and the buttons pop off, bouncing across the floor.

Fumbling with this belt buckle, I yank his suit pants down, exposing the delicious vee of his hips.

I climb down onto my knees, completely catching him off guard.

With the wooden floor biting into my knees, I free his cock from his underwear and do the one thing I know he won’t expect, put it into my mouth.

“Fuck.”

I suck and lick like my life depends on it, and when Dom throws his head back, I know my plan is working.

I’m gaining control of our situation again, and a part of me doesn’t see this as the chore it should be.

He is right; there is something between us, though I’m not ready to define what that is yet.

He hisses as he slowly thrusts into my mouth.

Grabbing my hair, he thrusts faster like the sight of me with his cock in my mouth unravels him.

This power is so different from the magic we both wield, special in its own way.

As suddenly as I started sucking him off, he stops thrusting.

“Get up,” he instructs. Intrigued, I obey, ignoring the part of me that doesn’t want to.

I’m supposed to be in control after all.

“Take your skirt and underwear off. ”

I step out of them without overthinking it, turned on by this domineering side of him. His hand travels to my center, and slowly, he inserts one finger inside of me. This time, it’s my turn to groan.

“So responsive, so ready for me,” he coos.

With his free hand, he rips open my blouse, returning the favor, putting my black lace bra on display before he inserts a second finger into my center. My eyes snap open as I watch his hand work in between my thighs, and the sensation builds as I throw my head back and find my release.

“Last chance to tell me to stop,” he adds, his voice gruff.

When I don’t stop him, he removes his hands from my center and takes my shoulders to turn me around.

Understanding, I brace my hands against the wall.

Peering at him over my shoulder, I remind him, “You will be surprised with what I can handle.” It’s the only invitation he needs as he thrusts into me, and I gasp at the overwhelming pressure so soon after my last orgasm.

Dom grabs my hair again and pulls my head back. The welcome pain only adds to the moment. “This doesn’t mean I think you’re innocent,” he whispers.

“This doesn’t mean I care,” I retort.

I arch my back into his grip, needing the closeness between us, knowing that sometimes this is the only moment that everything feels right in my world. I groan in desire. This almost makes everything worth it. He slaps my ass and thrusts faster, harder, as I lose myself in him.

Whatever it takes.