Page 5 of Vicious and Volatile (Vengeance and Venom #2)

M y eyes slide open to the familiar ceiling above. I know that crown molding. I know those thick curtains. This bed feels familiar. The sheets smell like mine. Even the sound of the airflow is the way it should be.

I roll over, and everything in me calms as I look around my familiar bedroom.

Home.

I’m finally home.

I don’t remember how I got in here last night. I must have fallen asleep in the car on the ride home. Ares must have carried me up here. I’m still wearing the same clothes I was in when we left Lawrence’s house.

Sitting up in the bed, my ears strain to find any sound. It’s quiet, but I hear the faint shuffle of feet in the kitchen.

As I look down, I see streaks of red on my hands, smeared over my clothes. Blood. Lawrence’s blood.

My feet don’t hesitate as I climb out of bed and cross to the bathroom. I turn on the water in the shower and strip the clothes off of me. I dump them straight into the garbage.

The temperature of the water is scalding hot when I step into the shower. But I relish in it. I watch as the water runs pink, as Lawrence’s blood washes from my skin. It circles the drain before it washes away.

Out of sight, out of mind. Right?

I scrub my body, every inch of skin with expensive, glorious-smelling body wash. My skin is pink and raw before I turn my attention to my hair. I massage the shampoo into it and my scalp, using my fingernails to scrape and clean. After I work it through, I rinse, and wash it again.

I don’t want a speck of the last eight days left on my body. Not a single bit of lingering evidence.

I’m absolutely raw by the time I shut off the water and wrap a towel around my body. When I step in front of the mirror, my skin is shiny and pink.

Good.

Burn it all out of existence.

I step into the closet and survey my options. I end up pulling on a pair of Ares’ gray sweatpants and a comfortable black sports bra. I brush through my hair, noting how long it’s grown. It falls to the small of my back, the dark locks thick.

I leave my face bare and my feet without socks, and step out of the bathroom. Down the hall, I hear voices.

And a smile pulls on my lips when I recognize them. Now I know why Ares wasn’t in the bed when I woke.

I step into the kitchen, and I am immediately attacked by a short woman with choppy, bleached blonde hair.

“Florence,” I say with a grin as the woman hugs me like she means it .

“I’ve been so damn worried,” she says, sincerity in every word. “That fucker deserves to burn in hell for a thousand lifetimes for what he did.”

I wrap my arms around her, appreciating the love and the genuine concern. Over her shoulder, I see Clementine step forward, tears in her eyes as she wraps them around me as well, engulfing her wife, too, as she joins the group hug. “The evil of some men. I can’t…”

“I’m alright,” I say, though the words come up my throat tight. Emotions make my eyes burn. But I’m not so sure that has anything to do with what’s just happened, the hell I’ve been through. I think it has everything to do with these two amazing women. With the love I feel radiating from them. For me.

“Of course you are,” Florence says as she looks me in the eyes. “But no, you are absolutely fucking not. What Augustus did was indescribably inhumane and evil. It’s okay if you want to rage scream or cry.”

“I’m sure it’s coming,” I say, pressing my face into the soft skin of her neck, our arms still tightly clinging to each other. “I think I might still be in a little bit of shock for now.”

“Of course,” Clementine says as she brushes a hand over my hair. I meet her eyes. They’re so soft, so damn understanding. And I realize just how lucky I am. How lucky Ares and I are. To have these two incredible women in our lives is a blessing.

My stomach growls, and they both spring away from me. “You should eat,” Clementine says, aiming me for the kitchen.

And there, standing back and letting the women love on me, is Ares. He’s in the kitchen, behind the island. He leans with his palms on the white countertop, his eyes fixed on us. There’s something soft in his expression. Something appreciative.

I walk around the island, and I don’t even hesitate because we have company. I wrap my arms behind his neck, rolling up onto the balls of my feet. Thankfully, he seems to understand the movement because his hands wrap behind my hips, and he hoists me right up off my feet. My legs wrap around his waist, and it’s an incredible turn on, feeling like I weigh nothing at all, supported completely by his large, tattooed hands on my hips.

My mouth finds his. I let out a relieved breath as he kisses me. Home. Safe. Belonging. All those words roll through my brain as this man sears me with his lips. His tongue is divine, his taste everything I’ve been craving.

Something stings the backs of my eyes. I’m in mental and emotional overload at our reunion. I never doubted he’d find me, but I was also terrified I’d never get to touch him again, never have him hold me again.

And he’s here. We’re here.

He has me.

And I trust him one thousand percent.

“If that weren’t my brother, sights like this remind me that there’s a tiny little five percent part of me that is turned on by heterosexual physical relations.”

“Florence,” Clementine says low, her tone a warning, but also amused.

“Thanks for ruining the moment,” Ares growls as he breaks the kiss and glowers at his sister.

“You’re welcome,” she simply says with a grin, exactly as a little sister would.

Ares backs me up to the counter, setting my ass on it, though his hands remain on my hips. “How are you this morning?” he asks. His tone is hesitant. Worried. As if he’s unsure of the answer. As if he’s unsure if I’m going to break down crying or storm out of here in a rage.

“I’m okay,” I say, nodding, even though there’s still a large thing inside of me that feels unsteady, like unsorted emotions and feelings that haven’t found their place yet. But I mean it. Right now, I’m okay. “Hungry.”

“Of course,” he says, pressing a soft, short kiss to my lips. He turns, grabbing a box from the counter behind. “Florence brought pastries from that bakery by her house.”

“No one else can compare,” Florence says, her tone undramatic, simply fact. “There’s orange juice too. Coffee, though I don’t know how you like it.”

I offer her a smile. “Thank you for all of it. I don’t drink caffeine, but I appreciate your efforts.”

“So, you really are superhuman,” she teases. “I don’t function on less than four cups a day.”

“Because you work fourteen hours a day,” Clementine points out, raising an eyebrow at her wife.

“I know,” Florence concedes. “I’m sorry, my love.” She leans forward, pressing her own soft kiss to her wife’s lips.

I dig through the teal blue pastry box. None of it is what I’d usually eat, but on a day like this, a day so beautiful yet so heavy, a little comfort food is in order. I settle on a bear claw and relish in the flood of sugar to my tastebuds.

“Speaking of your work, anything interesting going on with your vampire lab?” I ask as I accept the glass of orange juice Ares hands me.

“The testing is going well,” Florence answers, and her entire face immediately lights up. It’s instantly obvious how much she loves her work. “I’ve been reverse engineering Ares blood for two years now, and figuring out how to restructure it.”

“Oh, fuck,” the words suddenly blurt out of me as I stand up straighter. “Ares, did you tell her about everything James told us?”

“About some mad witch scientist king and the curse that created vampirism?” Florence says, her brow rising. I see the wild disbelief on her face, but also the baffled wonder.

Ares nods. “ That was a panicked phone call. Sounds like Cyrus tried to play God, and it eternally bit him in the ass. I told Florence she needs to stop her research.”

Florence rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I’m being careful.”

“You’re trying to make vampires,” Ares says, and the worry in his tone is obvious. “That’s exactly what Cyrus did, and he got cursed for it. You’re trying to do the same thing.”

“Not exactly,” Florence says, though she doesn’t sound quite as confident as I’d hope for. “I’m not trying to make myself the ultimate predator. Just… make some rats immortal, strong, more capable.”

“So, we just need to fear an uprising of immortal rats that are strong and intelligent,” Clementine says dryly. From her tone, it’s obvious she doesn’t like what Florence is doing either.

“You really think you can do it?” I ask, fixing my gaze on the woman who baffles my mind with her incredible intelligence and drive. “You think you can make a vampire? One that doesn’t have to be Born?”

“I think I can make a better vampire,” she says, a wild glee filling her eyes. “One that isn’t limited by the daylight. One that won’t be cursed to have to consume blood. ”

“Is that even a vampire then?” Ares points out. “Or just some medical engineering?”

“Don’t ruin my fun,” Florence says dryly before she throws a piece of a bagel at him. He catches it mid-air.

Despite how terrible the last eight days have been, the day is kind of wonderful. I still feel like I’m pushing some things down. Ares is kind of quiet. But spending time with Florence and Clementine is so easy. It’s so normal.

I guess it’s just been a really, really long time since I’ve had any “normal” family time. But that’s exactly what Florence and Clementine feel like. It’s been two years since my father died. It’s been eight years since my mother and sister were killed. In a way, it almost feels like I never had any normal family time.

But the day with Ares’ sister and sister-in-law feels so natural.

“Thank you for coming over,” I say as I hug Florence in the entryway.

“Oh, I was coming over whether you wanted me or not,” she reassures me with a chuckle. For such a tiny woman, she’s surprisingly strong. It’s my favorite kind of embrace. “And any time you want to see my lab, just let me know.”

“I would love that,” I say as I release her. And I mean every word. I move onto Clementine, hugging her as well. There’s something so gentle about her, so calm. She feels like the big sister I never had.

“Rest up, Lana,” she says into my hair. “I’m so relieved you’re home.”

“Thanks,” I offer, waving at the two of them as they shuffle out the door.

And then it’s quiet as I close it behind them. I turn, eying Ares where he stands just inside the living room.

His hands are stuffed into his pockets. His shoulders seem slightly tight. His eyes are heavy, dark, as he watches me.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today,” I say as I walk across the entry and into the living room. He has been quiet. Abnormally so. I’d say out of the non-stop conversation that’s been going on all day, Ares has only contributed maybe ten percent of it. “What’s going on?”

I stop in front of him, sliding my hands around his waist. My brows furrow as I take in the heaviness in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, simply studies me. I don’t know what he’s looking for. But I don’t like that seriousness in him.

“Ares?” I question, pressing myself to him, hugging him tighter. “What is it?”

“How…” he trails off, takes a breath. He’s studying me harder as if he can read something right off my skin if he just tries hard enough to see it. “How are you not running from me, Lana?”

That sours my stomach. My own brows furrow. “What do you mean? Why would I?”

Ares shakes his head and steps back from me, turning toward the window. It’s dark outside now. He stares out over Central Park, every muscle in his body tight and stiff. “My own fucking father took you, Lana. Physically took you. Sold you. A vampire trapped you in a basement, planned to keep you forever, paid money for you, fed on you. My father. I am a vampire. And you’re only in this world because I asked you to pretend to be my fiancée. You’ve been through hell because of me.”

He places his hands on the window, leaning into it. His breathing comes out harder. Pained. No. Agonized.

“How are you not leaving me, Lana?” he says. His words are quiet. Ragged. Terrified.

Oh, hell no.

I cross the room. I stop when I’m standing directly behind Ares, only inches between our bodies. “I’m in this world because someone I love was taken. I’m in this world because I stepped into it. I’m alive, I’m free, because of you, Ares.”

He hangs his head, shaking it. He looks like he’s tortured right now.

Fuck.

No.

I grab his hips and pull him away from the window. Sliding my hands up his back, I grab his shoulders and make him turn around to face me. My hand slides up his chest until I caress his cheek. I’ve never seen him look so conflicted as he does when slowly, his eyes rise up to meet mine.

“I’m not running, Ares,” I say, pushing every ounce of conviction I have into my words. “I am not fragile. I am not scared. I am not easily broken. I’ve lived through hard before, and I’ll keep doing it. But Ares, I am not running from you. I am not leaving you. Because I love you with every fiber of my fucking being.”

There are certain moments in life when we experience perfect clarity. Seeing Ares standing there, doubting us, feeling as if he isn’t exactly what I need, is a moment that perfectly crystalizes the truth for me.

I’ve been falling for him for weeks.

But now, after going through hell, I know it.

I love this man .

The sun dawns within the man in my arms. The look in his eyes changes. They brighten. They widen. He stands taller. The flow of air into his lungs changes.

His hands come up to caress either side of my face.

“You love me?” he questions, the words coming out rough and breathy at the same time.

A smile pulls on my lips. I cover his hands with my own. I nod. “I love you, Ares.”

And the world focuses to one point, all of it funneling around us in a rush. Ares mouth comes to mine, taking me hard, deep, eternally. His hands slip down to my hips, where he grabs me tightly, eliminating every bit of space between us. His breath comes out hard, feral, almost. His tongue seeks out mine. His mouth is hot, desperate. His hands even more so.

But he suddenly breaks it, pressing his forehead to mine. Those hazel eyes of his burn into mine with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

“I love you, Lana,” he says, his words ragged. “From, I swear, the first fucking moment. I love you so damn much I can’t breathe. Can’t eat. Can’t think. Can’t remember who I am without you, and I don’t want to go back. I’m fucking yours forever.”

My entire soul explodes, and it’s the most incredible feeling I’ve ever experienced. Joy. Acceptance. Home. Freedom. Binding. Nirvana.

This is everything right here.

I take his mouth again with violence. I am not gentle. I take Ares Hunt to be my eternal mate, my everything, my other half. I kiss him like the world is ending, and I want to go out unable to breathe from the exuberance.

My hands come to the hem of his shirt, and I yank. I fling it from his body, and it hits the wall with a muted whack before falling limp to the floor. Greedily, I run my hands up his tattooed stomach, cresting at his impeccable chest. Fuck, I could touch this god every moment for the rest of my life, and it wouldn’t be enough.

Ares’ fingers grip my sports bra, and he yanks it in two different directions, splitting it down the middle. A gasp escapes my lips as the cool air hits my breasts, and the next second, hot, wet lips close around my left nipple. My head tips back, a gasp escaping my lips. Ares’ hand grips my other, his tattooed fingers closing tightly on my flesh.

I lace my own fingers through his hair. I love his hair. I love his lips. I love the way they move on me. I love the heat of his breath against my skin. I love the way he touches me with possessiveness. I love that he isn’t gentle with me, even though he’s supernaturally strong.

I love every inch of this man and every damn moment between us.

Ares’ hands slide down to the waistband of the sweats I’m wearing, his sweats. And the next moment, the sound of tearing fabric fills the air. Ares discards the shredded pants to the side. I look down, see the man on his knees before me. His hands come to cup my ass cheeks. But they curl, his fingers digging into the fabric of my underwear. The next moment, he tears those to shreds as well.

As he rises, he scoops me up, his hands on my hips, his mouth returning to mine. He crosses the space in three long strides, and suddenly, the cold of the kitchen island is under me as Ares sets me on the marble.

“Ares,” I breathe his name as a questioning prayer.

He slides a hand up my stomach, between my breasts. He uses gentle pressure as he pushes me back, my elbows resting on the counter, supporting my weight. Holding my gaze, Ares grabs my ankle and then the other. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder and then does the same with the other.

My stomach jumps, and my entire body lights on fire as Ares eyes slide down my body and fix on my most intimate area. For a moment, I feel myself flush. I feel embarrassment heat my skin. I try to squeeze my legs closed.

But I take in the look on Ares’ face.

The reverence. The worship. The love.

I love this man.

He loves me.

He wants to worship me.

And I’m going to let him.

I take a steady breath as I let my legs relax a little. I settle back onto my elbows and forearms.

Ares watches with absolute intent as he slides a tattooed hand down my inner thigh. Goosebumps flash over my entire body. My breath hitches as he gets closer to his destination. I can’t help it when a sigh rushes over my lips when those beautiful fingers slip over my mound, drag over my clit, and then down into my very wet folds.

I watch Ares’ face the entire time as he slides a finger into me. My breath comes in and out erratically. Another little sound escapes me as he slips another finger inside me, stretching me in the most blissful way.

He dips. My neck loses its strength, my head tipping back as his lips connect with my center.

Fuck.

My body trembles as Ares’ tongue makes contact with my clit, swirling around it with precision. I think of the fangs that can extend in his mouth. The danger they pose to such soft, tender flesh.

But never. Never have I felt in danger around Ares. Not even for a second.

I moan, tightening my thighs around Ares’ head. The fact that he’s doing this to me, on our kitchen island, that he wants to make me feel good, it’s intoxicating.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp, my voice breathy and desperate. I feel Ares smile against my heat.

“Never,” he promises. The vibrations of spoken word against my clit sends a jolt of pleasure through me. He snakes an arm around my thigh and slides me closer to the edge of the counter. He sucks me. Hard.

I fall flat on my back against the counter, my fingers lacing into my hair as a wild noise escapes my lips.

Ares teases me with his tongue, dipping it inside me before returning to my clit, building a rhythm that has me writhing on the counter. His tongue makes a wide, flat pass from back to front before his mouth locks around my clit, and he gives a hard, pulling suck.

Curses, praises pour from me mindlessly.

Ares pumps those two fingers in and then out of me, curling in just the right way to hit that sacred spot deep within me.

The breath rips in and out of my chest. My fingers tighten in my hair. My back arches off the counter.

“It’s time. Let go, Vengeance,” Ares coaxes, even as he spreads his fingers into a wide V shape, stretching me farther.

His words, his wicked tongue, his savage fingers, they all push me over the edge. The orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave. My vision blurs, and I can’t help but scream Ares’ name as pleasure drowns me. Ares drags his tongue over my clit once more before locking his lips around it, sucking with a pulsing rhythm.

I’m panting, nearly sobbing by the time the climax begins to subside. I can hardly see straight when I open my eyes to see stars on the ceiling.

But I don’t get a second of reprieve. Ares drags me across the counter until I slip right off the edge of it and into his arms. His mouth comes to mine as he walks us through the penthouse. I taste myself on his lips, and it makes my brain spiral. His tongue is hot, desperate. His grip on me is possessive and feral.

The door reverberates when Ares kicks it open. But he smoothly crosses to the bed, where he lowers me, his hand supporting my neck.

I am not calm. I am not composed.

I claw at his belt, desperate to get it undone. I’m frantic as I unbutton his jeans and finally, finally, shove them down to let the length of him spring free. Between us, I grip him, shivering at the rod of steel. Ares kicks his pants off the rest of the way and climbs on top of me like a lion on a hunt.

Ares Hunt.

Every letter of his name fits.

There’s the sound of a drawer sliding open, and then tearing foil. Dammit. I was on birth control, but then Augustus ripped me out of my life. Now, I’ll be starting all over again. At least this time we have a condom.

Ares climbs the length of my body, his hazel eyes fixing on mine. He kisses his way up my stomach, his hands caressing my sides. I bite my lower lip at the sight of him. This dark, tattooed god, worshiping my body .

“You’re all I want to touch for the rest of my life, Lana,” he says as he crests over my shoulder, bringing his lips to my neck.

I swallow just once.

Fuck.

The rest of his life.

Ares is immortal.

I am not.

I think of Giovanni and his wife. The woman who looks old enough to be his mother now.

That will be you someday , I think. And the very thought makes something sting the back of my eyes.

But I push the thoughts away. Be here. Be here now. I replace the thoughts.

So, I pull Ares’ lips to mine. I sink into this kiss. My legs curl up to my chest, spreading as Ares positions himself between them. My lower belly quivers as his heat teases at my entry. I let out a breath as he sinks his weight forward, burying his cock inside me.

Breathe. I have to breathe as I adjust to his size. Ares returns his attention to my throat, kissing and sucking at the tender flesh there.

My fingers dig into his shoulders as he slides back. My grip on him tightens as he pushes inside once more.

I trace my fingers over the intricate designs on his body as he moves inside me. There’s an angel’s wing. That’s the hands of an ornate clock. There’s a maze with no exit. The face of a gargoyle stretches up one side of his neck, an angel on the other side. Up the center of his throat is the handle of a sword, the length of it tracing down the center of his sternum, ending just before his belly button.

Every inch of his torso, his back, his arms, his neck, his hands, is covered in ink. Ares invested a fortune into the art. Suddenly, I want to know the story and meaning behind every one. So far, I only know that the runes across his knuckles mean creator of my own fate . I need to know them all.

But not right now. Not this moment.

I sink back into the present as Ares slips a hand between us. Between my legs, his finger teases my clit. He squeezes it, then the pad of his middle finger circles it.

It’s a beautiful dance of want and love. Ares works me higher. I drag my fingernails over his back. I whisper his name. He prays to my flesh.

I shatter with tears in my eyes at the beauty of it all. Ares roars his release as the feral god he is.

“Do you understand, Lana,” Ares says as he returns from the bathroom with a warm, wetted washcloth, the condom disposed of. “The way you’ve burrowed yourself into my soul?” He kneels between my legs, his hands softly caressing my thighs, opening them. He cleans me, even though we used a condom. And I never knew aftercare could be a massive turn on until I united with Ares. “Do you understand that I’d light a match to the entire world and let it burn if you asked me to? Do you understand the power you hold over me?”

I reach for him, pulling him forward until he lays across my body, his head resting on my chest. He has to outweigh me by at least seventy pounds. But the weight is comforting. I lace my fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to his loose curls.

“Do you understand that I’m ruined for anyone else?” I say in return. “There isn’t anyone else. Ever. For the rest of my life. It’s always going to be you, Ares.”

He reaches up, tracing his fingers along those of my left hand. His fingertips trace the band that circles my finger. He takes my hand next, turning it slightly. There, he eyes the massive diamond he placed there.

“When it’s the perfect day, the perfect time, there’s going to be a real proposal, Vengeance,” he says through the dim light. “Mark my words.”

Adrenaline spikes in my blood. A smile curls on my lips.

“But I think I just might die if you ever take this off, even if there isn’t a reason for it to be there as soon as Augustus is dead.”

The conviction in his words, the deadly seriousness, is enough to cement his place in my soul.

“Someone would have to pry it off my cold, dead body,” I say with my own grim certainty.

Ares tips his head up, his lips seeking mine in the growing dark. The promises just spoken were as solemn as any vow spoken at an altar. I feel it in my soul. I feel it radiating off every cell of Ares.

He rolls, wrapping his arms around me. I rest on his chest, my hair fanning out over his skin. He presses his nose into my hair, his breathing relaxing.

I listen to the sound of his heart beating. It’s so steady. Something I can count on, like the sun rising and falling in the sky.

The center of my whole world. This man has somehow become the center of everything to me.

And I sleep easy that night, knowing I’m the same to him.