Page 15 of The Hacker (Dominion Hall #5)

ELIAS

V ivi’s body was a warm anchor against mine, her red curls splayed across my chest like embers on a dark tide.

The sheets clung to us, damp with sweat, Obsidian’s coils a silent shadow in the corner of my suite.

We’d fucked like demons, her fire torching my control, but now, in the quiet, her breath soft against my skin, I felt a pull—not just to claim her but to let her see me, the parts I’d buried deep.

The demon was there, pacing its cage, but it was hushed, lulled by her warmth, her presence.

She shifted, propping her chin on my chest, her green eyes glinting in the low light. “You’re quiet, Cipher,” she said, voice husky, a teasing edge slicing through. “Planning to chain me to your bedpost?”

I smirked, my fingers tracing the curve of her spine, slow and deliberate. “You’d burn the chains to ash, Red.”

Her laugh was soft, a sound that sank into me, thawing places I’d kept frozen. “Damn right. But you’d fan the flames.”

I didn’t answer, just held her gaze, her eyes probing mine like she could see the demon and didn’t flinch. She was chaos, a glitch in my code, but tonight, I didn’t want to debug her. I wanted her to know me, just a sliver, even if it felt like peeling back my own skin.

She rolled onto her side, her thigh brushing mine, her hand resting on my stomach, fingers grazing the scars I never explained. “Tell me something real,” she said, voice low, not a command but a dare. “Not the hacker shit. You. Who’s Elias Dane when he’s not chasing me?”

My jaw tightened, the instinct to shut down automatic. My career—military ops, black sites, bodies buried for Dominion Hall—was a vault I wouldn’t open, not yet. But her eyes, steady and unflinching, tugged at something raw. I exhaled, slow, my hand finding hers, lacing our fingers together.

“Grew up on Sullivan’s Island,” I said, voice rough, the words scraping out. “Salt air, sand in everything. Me and my brothers ran wild, building driftwood forts, swiping beers from tourists’ coolers.”

Her lips curved, a real smile, not her usual wicked grin. “Sounds like trouble.”

“We were,” I said, a faint smirk tugging at my mouth. “Marcus was the loudmouth, starting fights he couldn’t finish. Atlas watched, always planning. Charlie dreamed, sketching in the sand. Noah charmed his way out of everything.”

She tilted her head, her curls catching the light. “And you?”

I paused, the truth heavy. “I fixed shit. Broken toys, busted radios, anything I could take apart and put back together. Had to know how it worked, how to control it.”

Her fingers tightened around mine, her voice soft. “Sounds like you carried a lot.”

I snorted, but it didn’t hide the ache. “Wasn’t so bad.

Had my brothers. Had my dad.” I hesitated, the memory of Byron Dane a weight, warm but shadowed.

“Dad loved us, all of us. Good man, quiet, but he’d sit us down, tell stories about the sea, teach us to read the stars.

We thought he was just a hard worker, scraping by.

Then, when we were all deployed—me and my brothers scattered across the world in our respective units—we got word he was dead.

Left us a letter and a fortune we didn’t know he had. ”

Vivi’s breath caught, her hand stilling. “A fortune?”

I nodded, the truth still surreal. “Billions. Stashed in accounts, properties, shit we couldn’t fathom. We were soldiers, not tycoons. Found out he’d been playing some kind of game—deals, secrets, shit he never told us. Built an empire, and we inherited it overnight.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t push, just listened, her silence an invitation. I swallowed, the next part harder, the part that cut deepest.

“My mom …” I started, my chest tight, the words like glass in my throat. “She was light, you know? Sang and danced with us in the kitchen. I was just a kid when she vanished. No note, no trace. Dad shut down. Never talked about her. Focused on raising us.”

Vivi’s fingers slid to my face, turning me to her, her touch gentle but firm. “You think he got her killed?”

I looked away, my jaw clenching. “I think maybe his secrets did. I’ve been digging ever since, but the trail’s cold. She’s a ghost now.” Why was I telling her this?

Her eyes softened, fierce and tender. “That’s why you’re like this,” she said, voice low. “You’re chasing control because they took it from you.”

I held her gaze, her words slicing deep, raw and true. She saw me—the kid who lost his mom, the man who built walls to keep the world out. And fuck, I wanted her to keep seeing me, to tear those walls down until there was nothing left.

I kissed her, slow and deep, not the brutal claiming of before but something softer, something that scared me more.

Her lips were warm, yielding, her tongue a slow dance with mine, and I felt it—the shift, the moment we weren’t just fire and demon but something real.

My hands slid to her hips, pulling her closer, her body molding to mine, her breasts soft against my chest.

“Elias,” she whispered, her voice a sigh, her hands roaming my back, tracing scars and muscle, learning me.

I rolled us, her beneath me, my cock hardening as I settled between her thighs, the heat of her pussy a siren’s call.

This wasn’t about pain, not this time. It was about pleasure, about knowing her in a way that went beyond skin.

I dipped my cock into her, slow, just the tip, teasing her entrance, feeling her wetness coat me. She gasped, her nails grazing my arms, her eyes fluttering closed. “More,” she murmured, her hips arching, but I held back, savoring the way her body begged for me.

“Not yet,” I said, voice low, my lips brushing her ear. I slid in an inch, then out, slow and deliberate, watching her face, the way her lips parted, her breath hitching. She was fire, but this time, I wanted her to burn slow, to feel every second of me.

She opened her eyes, green and blazing, and pushed me onto my back, straddling me, her hands on my chest. “You’re teasing,” she said, her voice a mix of frustration and lust, her pussy hovering over my cock, tormenting me.

“You want it, take it,” I said, my hands on her hips, guiding but not forcing. She grinned, wicked and beautiful, and sank onto me, slow, her pussy swallowing me inch by inch, tight and hot, a perfect fit. I groaned, my head falling back, the pleasure so intense it was almost pain.

She rode me, slow and sensual, her hips rolling, her breasts swaying, her curls bouncing. I watched her, mesmerized, my hands roaming her body, cupping her breasts, thumbing her nipples until she moaned. “Fuck, Vivi,” I rasped, my voice rough, my cock throbbing inside her.

She leaned down, her lips brushing mine, her breath warm.

“I want to taste me on you,” she whispered, and before I could process it, she slid off, her mouth closing over my cock, wet and warm, her tongue swirling around the tip.

Then she licked me on every side, from tip to base.

I groaned, my hands fisting her hair, the sight of her lips stretched around me enough to drive me insane.

Then she sucked me deep, her hand stroking what her mouth couldn’t take, her eyes locked on mine, defiant.

“Red,” I growled, my voice breaking, my hips bucking into her mouth.

She hummed, the vibration sending shocks through me, and I was close, too close, but I wanted her pussy again, wanted to finish inside her.

I pulled her up, kissing her, tasting myself on her tongue, and rolled us, sliding back into her, slow and deep, her moan a sound I’d never tire of.

We moved together, bodies in sync, her legs wrapped around me, her hands on my face, pulling me closer.

It was slow, deliberate, every thrust a conversation, every gasp a confession.

I felt her tightening, her breath hitching, and I kissed her, swallowing her moans, my cock driving deeper, chasing her pleasure.

A ding broke the haze, my phone on the nightstand, followed by hers, a sharp chime that cut through the air.

I ignored it, my lips on her throat, my hips moving, but they dinged again, insistent, a tandem rhythm that made my gut twist. Vivi’s eyes flickered, but she pulled me closer, her nails digging into my ass, urging me on.

“Keep going,” she whispered, her voice desperate, her pussy clenching around me, so close to the edge.

I wanted to, wanted to lose myself in her, but the phones kept going, a chorus of warnings I couldn’t ignore.

The demon snarled, sensing a threat, and I reached for my phone, my cock still buried deep inside her, her heat a vice I didn’t want to leave.

“Elias,” she moaned, her hips rocking, trying to pull me back, but I glanced at the screen, my blood running cold.

An alert from my monitoring program on the ballet’s network, the words stark and brutal: Effective immediately, Vivienne Laveau is suspended from the Charleston Crescent Ballet Company.

Her whereabouts are to be supplied to the authorities.

I froze, my cock still inside her, her body trembling beneath me, so close to release.

Her phone buzzed again, and I grabbed it, seeing the same message, mirrored, official, a fucking guillotine.

Suspended. Authorities. Her life, her passion, her fire—threatened by something I’d missed, something tied to the hackers, to me.

“Elias,” she said, voice sharp now, her eyes searching mine. “What is it?”

I didn’t answer, couldn’t, the demon roaring, tearing at its cage.

I’d protected her, killed for her, but this—this was a blade I hadn’t seen coming.

The ballet, her world, was turning on her, and my program had caught it, but too late.

I dropped the phones, my hands framing her face, kissing her, hard and desperate, pouring my fear into her.

“We’re not done,” I growled, thrusting again, slow and deep, needing her to feel me, to know I wasn’t letting go. She moaned, her body responding, her eyes blazing with trust, with fire, even as the world burned around us.

I fucked her, slow and steady, my cock sliding in and out, her pussy clenching, her breath hitching. We climbed together, her nails in my back, my lips on hers, and when she came, it was soft, a shuddering wave that pulled me with her, my release spilling into her, marking her as mine.

We lay there, panting, her body soft against mine, the phones silent now, but the message a ghost in the room. I held her close, my hand in her hair, my voice low. “They’re coming for you, Red,” I said, the truth raw, brutal. “But they’ll have to go through me first.”

Her eyes met mine and she smiled, not her wicked grin but something real, something that scared me more than the alert.

The demon roared, ready to fight, and I knew—whatever this was, whoever was behind it, I’d burn the world to keep her safe. Vivi was mine, and no one, not the ballet, not the authorities, not the ghosts of my past, would take her from me.