Page 35 of The Ecstasy of Sin (Brutal Brotherhood #1)
Dominic
The road is long and dark, carved through the dense stretch of forest just outside of Toronto. This northern corridor is perfect for my motorcycle—a modded, blacked-out Kawasaki Ninja. My decision to bring it tonight instead of my car was a selfish one.
I wanted Wren pressed against me, her arms locked tight around my waist, clinging to me like her life depends on it. And that’s exactly what I got.
The engine purrs beneath us, a steady vibration that always settles my nerves, as we glide under the cover of night.
After some brief instructions and a promise not to let go, my wide-eyed little lamb climbed on behind me, blushing as her body slid forward into the passenger seat, her thighs forced to cradle my hips.
It felt so fucking good to ride with her pressed against my back. Every time we dipped into a turn, she squeezed tighter, and pressed closer. I could feel her heartbeat syncing with mine, steady, fast, and alive with excitement.
Even though our helmets are linked with radios, we’ve been comfortable with the silence as we left the city to head for Blood Siphon. I checked in on her a few times, but other than that, she seemed content to just cling to me and enjoy the smooth ride .
It took us just under an hour to reach Blood Siphon. A massive, modern black building carved into the edge of the woods. Bright lights blaze across the parking lot, illuminating the stretch of forest like a stage.
Ryker built this place to be discreet, but make no mistake—every criminal in the country knows what it is and uses it for their shady dealings.
Blood Siphon is the kind of club people would sell their soul to get into. It draws in thrill-seeking civilians, hardened criminals, and the worst humanity has to offer from coast to coast.
The main attraction is the thirty-foot tall steel cage that hosts Ryker’s illegal underground fighting ring. That monstrosity is made to spill as much blood as possible, with the majority of it covered in jagged barbed wire.
The matte black floor is studded with drains, designed to siphon blood and gore down into thick glass pipes that snake beneath the cage.
What gave the club its namesake are the channels sealed with bullet proof glass running all over the club floors, where all it takes is a glance down to see the blood spilled during fights.
It mixes with some clear oil to keep it moving, coursing through the club all night, and gets cleaned out every morning.
Ryker designed the entire thing himself, and he still has the nerve to pretend he’s the sanest one in our fucked-up brotherhood.
I pull into the massive parking lot, dodging crowds of people gathered at the entrance that are lining up for their taste of blood and chaos .
I round the side and slide into the back lot, reserved for my brothers and Ryker’s men.
Even back here, it’s crowded. Ryker has a loyal crew of stone-cold men that work for him, protecting his investments and his club.
The same crew he sends my way on the rare occasion I need clean up.
Although lately, thanks to the beautiful girl clinging to me on the back of my bike, those occasions are becoming a lot more common.
Pulling into the space next to Ghost’s ride, I kill the engine and climb off.
Wren gasps when I grab her by the waist and lift her off the bike, setting her down on her feet in front of me.
I remove both of our helmets and secure them to the bike, then pull her against my body.
I bring my lips to hers in a kiss that is deep and devouring; a mark of ownership before we enter the pit of vipers.
She melts against me, her mouth opening easily as she submits to my obvious claim over her.
When I finally pull back, her eyes are heavy-lidded and her lips are slightly parted as she tries to catch her breath. The flush creeping up the slender column of her throat makes me fucking hard. I love the way my possessive touch makes her wet and needy.
Wren was always meant to be mine.
“All of the worst criminals in the country are inside this club. No one touches you, and you stay close to Torin and Ghost. Understood?” My thumb brushes across her lip, still swollen from my kiss, as I hold her gaze.
She nods, so sweet and obedient for me.
I cannot wait to be inside of her. To own her body in a way no one else ever has, or will. And inevitably, make her fall in love with me and become as addicted to me as I am to her.
I extend my hand to her, and she immediately places hers in mine—so delicate, so fragile. I place a kiss along her knuckles before leading her to the back door.
Leon, one of Ryker’s bouncers, nods in greeting and opens the door to let us in. I slip my arm around Wren’s waist and draw her closer as we step inside, the heavy pulse of music filling the dark interior.
When we reach the staircase leading up to Ryker’s office, I shuffle her in front of me, both hands on her hips as I guide her up.
At the top, I catch her by the waist and press her back against the wall beside the door. Caging her in with my body, my teeth find her throat as I gently bite the soft skin beneath her ear.
She moans, a breathy sound that makes my entire body tense up.
I pull away just long enough to glance over my shoulder and make sure she’s safe, before I slide my hand into her hair and pull her lips to mine.
I devour her, pouring all of my obsession into our kiss. Willing her to understand the overpowering urge to possess every part of her that rides me hard every minute of every day. An urge that was born the minute she fell into my arms at that clinic .
The way her body softens, relaxing into me and taking everything I give her, makes me feel like I’m one more kiss away from taking her on the floor like the feral son of a bitch that I am.
When I release her, a shiver runs through her body.
“You’re insatiable today,” she whispers, her hands resting on my chest.
I nod, unapologetic. “I’m doing us both a favour and holding back. For now.”
She blushes, and the shy look on her face has me wanting to take her home right fucking now. I want to memorize every sound she makes while she falls apart for me.
But first, I have blood to spill.
I step back and take her hand, and lead her down the hall toward Ryker’s office. I don’t bother knocking before I twist the handle and step into the dimly lit space.
Everything inside gleams—black leather, silver chrome, and polished blood-red accents.
Ryker is reclined in his chair, his gaze locked on Ghost, who’s perched on the edge of the massive onyx desk, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest.
Torin is standing in silence near the floor-to-ceiling wall of one-way bulletproof glass, nursing a glass of whiskey as he watches the crowd below. His narrowed gaze is fixed on something out of view.
“Well, if it isn’t my new favourite sister,” Ryker says in greeting as I close the door behind me.
I scowl at him. “Fuck off,” I snap. “Or it’ll be you in the cage with me tonight. ”
Ryker just smirks. I’m going to need to address this new hobby of his; the one that has him constantly pushing my buttons where Wren is concerned.
“Hi,” Wren says with a small wave.
Ghost steps away from the desk and over to us, clapping me on the shoulder in greeting.
He offers Wren a friendly smile. “Good to see you again, Wren,” he says with a nod, before stepping away to join Torin.
Ryker rises from his chair and walks around his desk until he’s standing in front of me, leaning against the edge. “You ready for tonight, brother?”
“Ready to start a war,” I answer, already aching to feel someone’s thick, hot blood all over me.
When I glance down at Wren, she’s watching me curiously. Tonight won’t be the first time she has watched me kill a man, but it will change things for her. If she’s still clinging to some illusion about who I am, tonight will be the night that fantasy dies.
And if she sees the monster inside of me and tries to run?
I’ll hunt her down and drag her back to me.
***
The roar of the crowd is a cacophony of violent hunger, rising to a ravenous crescendo the second I step through the door and onto the matte black floor of the thirty-foot steel death trap .
The moment the crowd recognizes me, their bodies surge forward until they’re swarming the guard rail surrounding the base of the cage, slamming against it like animals desperate to get closer to the very sustenance that feeds their vile souls.
Ryker gave me the code name Reaper when I first started fighting on his roster, and the nickname stuck. With an undefeated record, and the highest kill count in Blood Siphon history, the crowd is infected with my bloodlust whenever I step into this hellish cage.
They don’t know it, but I don’t fight for money, fame, and glory. I fight to feed the sickness in my soul; my insatiable addiction to godhood.
I don’t acknowledge them, but I feel their need. Their rabid excitement, their trust that I’ll deliver what they came for—blood, carnage, and death. They worship me, like the Greeks worshipped the Gods on Olympus.
My eyes narrow as I hone in on Maksim Volkov, standing at the other end of the cage, playing to the crowd like they know who he is, and this isn’t his first time here for a fight.
He’s a big motherfucker, but that won’t help him here. Being the biggest man in the cage doesn’t mean shit when skill and functional strength are sharpened by speed and bloodlust.
Maksim is the Bratva’s Sovietnik, and he has more than enough blood on his hands, but I’m the incarnate of death, and I’ve been honed by life for this, a blade to cut down what lays in my path.
The only thing I do better than killing is fucking, and I’ll take my time with both .
When he finally turns, and our eyes meet, the grin that spreads across my face is unmasked and maniacal. I let him see me, the real me, and all of the rot, the rage, and the death-drunk madness rising just for him.