Page 4 of Vicious and Volatile (Vengeance and Venom #2)

H is hand sliding up the middle of my back. That hand wrapping into my hair. The gentle pull it gives. The pressure between my legs. The heat of his body as he thrusts into me. My name whispered on his lips.

A moan escapes me as I press back into him. But it’s not enough.

I’m not full enough.

He’s not touching me enough.

I can’t smell him enough.

I can’t see enough.

With a groan of frustration, my eyes snap open. There isn’t anyone around, but I still feel my face flush in embarrassment, recalling the dream I was just in the middle of and the role Ares played in it.

I let out a breath of longing and frustration and roll over. The clock on the nightstand tells me it’s 4:11.

Why couldn’t I just have stayed asleep for two minutes longer? Why did I need to wake up before the grand finale? For what?

There isn’t a chance I’m falling back asleep right now. With a sigh, I roll out of bed and shuffle into the shower.

It’s been… six days now. Six days that I’ve been trapped down in this basement, without a clue as to where this basement is located.

How many more days will this turn into?

I shut the water off, wrap a towel around myself, and step back into the rest of the bathroom.

My head whips up to the ceiling when I hear… something. A thump.

There’s never been a single sound that has filtered down into my quarters.

I listen hard, hoping to hear something again. I stand stark still, straining my ears.

But there’s nothing. Maybe Lawrence dropped something directly overhead. But it’s done and over already.

I pull some clothes from the closet, simple attire of a black shirt and some black pants. Every time I sleep, my dirty clothes disappear, replaced by clean ones. The same with the food supply. At this point, it’s simply becoming fact. I am not alone in this space when I sleep.

I’m brushing through my wet hair when I hear another thump. I freeze, listening, and it’s followed by another thump, this one heavier sounding.

I set the brush down on the counter and walk back into the bedroom, my eyes fixed on the ceiling.

There’s the sound of metal scraping right overhead. Another thump.

I dart into the kitchen, going for another of my kitchen knives. Lawrence has clearly displayed that I will not, in fact, get the upper hand on him, but I don’t know what the hell is going on up there, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stay unarmed.

Two more thumps sound in succession, these above the dining area. And that…. That sounded like a roar , maybe.

My heart rate picks up. Something prickles along the back of my spine.

Another thud and something sounds like it buckles overhead.

Scrambling footsteps vibrate the walls.

There’s another roar, this one deeper, more savage.

The next sound is different. There’s a definitive crunch. And then wet tearing.

It’s quiet. So quiet I hear my heart hammering in my ears.

Then there’s footsteps again. They echo, as if they’re in a staircase.

A staircase right outside the door Lawrence comes through.

I square off with the door, knife poised. My thoughts are racing, combing through every bit of training I have, practicing a hundred moves in a single second.

There’s a click.

I watch as the doorknob twists.

And then it swings inward.

The god of war stands there, a dark shadow silhouetted in the doorframe. Dangling from his left hand is something round. With hair. Something wet drips from it.

“Lana,” Ares breathes as he steps forward into the light. From his hand, he drops Lawrence’s head, which rolls across the wood floor, spilling red all over.

Ares’ eyes are brilliant red, the brightest I’ve ever seen them. Black veins spider out from them across his face. His fangs are extended, on display as he breathes hard, the sound feral.

Red is splashed across every inch of him. Smeared over his chin and mouth. Coating everywhere on his hands. Splattered over his chest. Staining his shoes.

Every inch of Ares is the god of war in this moment.

“Ares,” I whisper. And without an ounce of hesitation in me, I rush forward. My arms wrap behind his head, my mouth finding his, fangs and all. Those bloody hands wrap around my waist, pulling me close. Almost too close. Ares nearly crushes the air from my lungs as he clings to me, as he kisses me with every desperate bone in his body.

“Lana,” Ares breathes again, my name a covenant on his lips as they move with mine. His fingers tighten, sinking possessively into my skin. And it’s not enough, I need more. I deepen the kiss, but I need to crawl into this man’s skin and inhabit the same body, never to be torn apart again.

His hand comes to the side of my neck, its size massive. Ares breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against mine, his hazel eyes staring into mine.

“How did you find me?” I ask, my mind spinning.

“I found the record,” he says, his words angry, vengeful. “The whole record. With everyone. It’s fucking coded, though, or I would have been here yesterday. Fuck, Lana, are you okay?”

He’s staring into my eyes with terror and panic and pure adrenaline.

I cover his hand with mine, my other fisting in his shirt. I nod. “Yeah,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’m… I’m okay. He didn’t…” I shake my head, looking to the side. And it really hits me t hen. That is Lawrence. Just his head. Detached from his body. Lying there, the visage is impossible to deny. “He didn’t hurt me.”

“Thank fuck,” Ares says, missing the confusion, the conflict in my tone as I look at Lawrence’s blood spilling all over the floor. Ares hugs me to him, burying his face in my neck. I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for the world to darken, for it to spin.

Blood.

So much blood on the floor.

On Ares.

But it doesn’t come. My vision doesn’t tunnel. I don’t feel like the world is tilting.

Ever since my mother and sister were murdered, I see blood and I lose my damn mind. But this is the second time now where that hasn’t happened.

The other time involved Ares as well. The night of the Baron’s Ball. When Ares ripped a man’s heart out, a man who had put his hand on me.

It’s different because with Ares, I am protected. Safe.

“Take me home,” I say, the words coming out shaky and a little emotional.

Ares’s hands come to either side of my face as he looks at me, taking me in, evaluating my state.

This is a man who would do anything for me. There’s no other way to put it, to interpret the look in his eyes. I can’t deny it with a single cell of my body.

Ares would move heaven and hell for me.

He likely has already, to be standing in front of me right now.

“Let’s go home,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead .

I feel like I should be turning and gathering my things. I’ve stayed here for six days, after all. Surely, it’s time to pack my bags after this trip and head home.

But it was nothing like that. I was ripped away from my life, wearing workout clothes, on my way to work. I was taken with nothing. I came here with nothing.

I leave with nothing.

Ares slips his hand into mine, and he steps for the stairs. For the first time, I walk through that locked door. We ascend a set of stairs, the hallway dark. But not dark enough. I see a massive amount of blood dripped onto the carpeted stairs, poured out of Lawrence as Ares carried his head down here.

There’s another door at the top of the stairs. It looks like someone taped a stick of dynamite to it, and set it off. It’s splintered across the room.

We step into an office. It’s neat. Organized. It’s decorated in the same green hues and dark wood my apartment was. Books line the shelves.

But my stomach quivers when I see that Lawrence’s computer monitors are still on. There, on the screen, is a grid of camera views. My apartment is on full display.

“Sick fuck,” Ares growls. He grabs a splintered piece of the door, flipping it in his hand until he has the best grip on it, holding it like a baseball bat. And then he swings it through the air, where it then collides with the monitors.

They explode.

Muttering curses, Ares tosses the scrap aside and stalks through the office.

I note the blood sprayed all over the carpet. We exit out into a hall, and the amount of blood quadruples. It’s splattered over that mirror. There’s a pool of it on the floor.

And there, lying against that wall, there is an entire arm.

Nothing else.

Just an arm.

My eyes slide down to Ares hand, which is clasped firmly around mine.

It’s stained entirely with red.

Farther evidence of the violence Ares executed extends as we walk down the hall.

The drywall is buckled there. There’s a red spatter spreading out from a round hole, as if Lawrence’s skull cracked there.

We exit into a living room, and there, lying behind the couch, I find a leg. More blood. The piano against that wall looks as if a wrecking ball dropped on top of it.

My stomach turns.

All my other organs tremble.

The reality of what Ares is capable of… The strength he possesses. The reality of being a vampire. It’s never been on such stark display. It’s never been more real.

“Just need to take care of one last thing, Vengeance,” Ares says as he tugs me through another doorway. We walk into a kitchen that makes my mouth drop open. The details, the finishes, the equipment. Lawrence didn’t make this kind of money just being the mayor of some town. This kind of scale is generational wealth.

But it’s marred by the streaks of blood over the counter. The splatter against the windows. And then by the headless torso lying in the doorway to the dining room.

Ares tore Lawrence to fucking pieces.

As my stomach tries to revolt, I force myself to look away.

Ares starts digging through cupboards, and maybe I’m a little stunned, because I just stand there, feeling stiff and frozen, instead of asking what he’s looking for, instead of offering to help.

But just thirty seconds into his search, he comes up with a candle, as well as a lighter. He sets the wick alight, setting the candle on the counter farthest away from the stove.

He then turns the knob on the stove just a little, and the next moment, I hear the soft hiss of unlit gas running.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ares says, returning to my side, taking my hand once more. Confidently, quickly, he leads me to the front door. He strides out of it, and I nearly pull him to a stop.

Air.

Fresh air.

Stars.

The moon.

I haven’t had access to any of these things in seven days now.

My eyes slide closed for just a moment as I pull in a lung full.

But they flash open when I hear the sound of an engine starting. And there, parked at the curb, is a familiar black SUV, Billings climbing out to open the back door for us.

“It’s a relief to see you, Lana,” he says, nodding his head to me. In his eyes, I’m surprised to see genuine concern. He’s been driving me around for a month now. I didn’t realize that during that time, we’d come to mean anything to each other. But I’m actually happy to see him as well.

“Thanks, Billings,” I say, my voice coming out sounding rough .

Ares supports me as I climb up and into the comfortable seats. I drop into one, letting out a shaky breath as I settle back.

Ares climbs in after me, settling into the seat beside me, immediately taking my hand once more as Billings pushes the door closed.

“Where am I?” I ask, starting in on the million questions ripping through my brain.

“Connecticut,” Ares answers. “Damn near to Rhode Island. Creepy little town.”

I look out the window as Billings rolls forward. There is the house I just exited. It’s beautiful. Old. Regal. It looks exactly like old money. It does not look like a place a vampire kept a human woman prisoner in his basement.

The grounds surrounding it are big. There is a line of massive, beautiful trees along the driveway we roll down. The gardening is top-notch. Everything looks perfectly in place.

It’s disgusting how well it matches the man who bought me.

Just as we reach the end of the long, dramatic driveway, there’s a terrifying explosion behind us. I instinctually duck, protecting the back of my head, my shoulders shrugging up to my ears. With a startled yelp, I look out the side window as Billings turns onto the main road and hits the gas.

Lawrence’s house just exploded.

A ball of fire.

Windows blown out.

A raging inferno stands in its place.

The candle.

The gas at the stove.

Fuck.

Ares was destroying the evidence of what happened there .

“Keep on driving,” Ares instructs Billings. He looks over his shoulder, evaluating the ball of fire that’s falling behind us.

“Holy shit,” the words come across my lips in a quiver. I tear my eyes from the flames behind us, my breath ripping in and out of my chest. I feel my whole body start to shake, and my face falls into my hands as I try to calm my breathing.

“It’s over, Lana,” Ares says, his voice low, quiet. His hand comes to my back, rubbing comforting circles into it. “That bastard will never touch you again.”

I breathe hard, and a series if images flash through my brain in rapid succession. The numb nothing. The door locking me in the basement. Lawrence’s detached head. The blood everywhere. And fire.

It ends in fire.

“Lana?” Ares’ voice breaks through my brain, his concern heavy in his tone.

“I’m fine,” I say suddenly, sitting up as I suck in a breath. I swallow once. I shake my head. Dammit, I don’t want to fall apart. I’m Lana fucking Kincade. “I’m fine. Holy shit, fuck, dammit it all to hell, these fucking bastards.” The curses pour out of me, but with every one, a little piece of me feels better. Straighter. Lighter. But I turn in my seat, looking Ares in the eyes. “I knew you’d find me, Venom. Didn’t doubt it for a second.” I take in one steadying breath, finding my grounding. “I am fine.”

“Of course you are,” he says as a smile curls on those beautiful lips. And good fuck, his fangs are still slightly extended. He leans across, placing one of his hands on the side of my neck. “You’re Lana fucking Kincaid.”

His mouth finds mine, his lips hot, urgent. Desperate. Dammit, I could kiss these lips for the rest of my life and never get bored. This man is mine, and I am his. It may have only been five weeks since we came into each other’s lives with the force of a typhoon, but after everything we’ve been through, after everything we’ve pulled off together, there is no going back.

Not ever.

I bite his lower lip and his lips curl into a smile beneath mine. He draws my own lip into his mouth, sucking, claiming, owning. “The things you do to me, Vengeance. I’d rip apart this whole damn country if that’s what it took. You know that, right?”

I nod, smiling. “I do.”

“Good,” he says, the word sounding like a dangerous promise. One that sets my entire body on fire.

I take a deep breath and sit back in my seat again. “Okay. Details. How long since Augustus’s goons took me?”

“Eight days,” Ares growls. His grip on the arm of the seat tightens. The leather cracks.

I nod. So, a day longer than I thought.

“Augustus is still alive?” I ask, my gaze darkening as I look at Ares.

He nods. “For now. I wanted you to be able to watch as I made him suffer.”

That sends a wash of chills over my body. I want Augustus to pay. Do I want to watch Ares execute the kind of violence he used on Lawrence? I don’t know.

“You said you found the record, but it’s coded?” I move on.

Once more, Ares nods. He pulls a black book from the back seat. He opens it up, showing me. There are lines of numbers and letters, but it just looks like random chaos. My brain feels overwhelmed just looking at it .

“I figured it out by the date first,” Ares says, pointing to the middle sequence of numbers. “It’s literally just the date you, or the others, were taken, just written backwards.” I realize he’s right. As I look over the numbers, I can pick out the dates. “I’m honestly still not sure what the first part of the sequence means,” Ares admits. “I’d guess it’s another cipher. The first letter is always either F or M, so I’m guessing Female or Male, but I’m not sure on the rest of it. But eventually I realized the last part of the code is coordinates thanks to the decimal placements, but the numbers were replaced by letters. Zero is A, one is B, two is C, and so on.”

Holy shit, my brain is already swimming. But I’m wildly, wildly impressed with Ares’ brilliance, that he figured all of that out on his own.

“And what about Ophelia?” I ask, my heart hammering. This is what we’ve needed all along. What I knew we needed from the moment we realized what Augustus was doing with the people who disappeared from his Red parties.

“You were the priority, Vengeance,” Ares says, no apologies in his tone “But now that I’ve got you, we can find Ophelia.”

I nod. Good. Finally. It’s been eight weeks since Ophelia went missing. Knowing what she’s been enduring for this long makes my throat tight and something bite the back of my eyes.

“Morning,” I say with a nod. “Come morning, we deal with all the shit.”