Page 3 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)

Blade

F ire her scream turns into a moan as I finger fuck her ass, using just the rhythm that drives her wild.

She becomes more pliable as I dance us over to the back wall into a shadowed alcove where another couple is already making out.

The woman’s hand lost down the front of the man’s jeans.

Pressing Kiera against the wall, I bite my way down her slender neck, leaving bruises to mark my ownership.

Her arms wrap around my head and press me closer, begging me to draw blood.

Obliging, I rip and tear with each kiss, her neck becoming slick with my efforts.

One hand pressed against the wall next to her head, the other frees my cock, using it to drive her into the unforgiving wall as my hips thrust forward.

Kiera holds me tight as I slam my dick into her hot folds, slamming home in one thrust. I’m distantly aware the woman next to us is riding her partner’s cock like she trying to win a rodeo buckle.

The weight of their stares on us throughout their journey to pleasure.

Ironically, they’re a couple I enjoyed spending an evening with about eight months ago.

And here we are again, yet they don’t know it’s me behind this mask.

I fuck Kiera hard into the wall, matching the beat of the thundering music while she pulses and groans her pleasure against my neck.

My thumb circles her clit and her walls contract around my shaft, squeezing it, milking it.

My climax barrels through me. The world darkening around me.

The music becoming white noise when a zing of electricity runs from my groin up through every part of my body.

It’s been way too damn long since I’ve touched her.

My ears ring as the arousal coursing through me slams into my balls, drawing them up tight.

One more breath of anticipation is all I can manage.

I blow my load into her tight, greedy cunt.

My ejaculation triggers her release. Sweat slicks her forehead, droplets running down the side of her beautiful face, her mouth parted, eyes rolling into the back of her head. Baby blue eyes, not the amber I dream of almost nightly.

Every muscle in my body locks up.

The red haze covering my eyes from the moment I saw her fades to nothing, and I realize I’m not with Kiera. I’m fucking Gizelle, my mark’s wife, against the wall of his club while he pisses upstairs.

Fuck. At least he won’t have eight years to stew in the betrayal.

I pull out of her heat and tuck myself back into my pants, leaving them unbuttoned.

Her smile stretches across her perfectly made-up face.

Gizelle’s expensive fragrance, mingled with the scent of our sex, threatens to choke me.

She reaches for me, but I step back to get my bearings.

It doesn’t faze her, though, as she pushes away the hair stuck to her face.

“That is the best sex I’ve ever had,” she says, a breathless lyrical lilt underlying her soft voice. A voice completely in contrast to the way she just let her brother-in-law fuck her in public. “I’d always fantasized you’d be incredible in bed, or… on the dance floor.”

Though we’re speaking German, it runs through my mind in English.

Despite the drama being unnecessarily high, I still struggle with conflicting thoughts between reality and my fantasy wife.

“Women are always begging me to either fuck them or kill them,” I say honestly, my lips curving in a smirk on the heels of my chuckle. When she laughs as if I’m teasing her, I shrug. “If you need me to show you again…” I play along, reaching for her.

She takes a step forward, molding herself against me, arms wrapping around my neck.

The other couple groan out their release, but that’s not what makes the hair on the back of my neck rise. A hand grabs my shoulder, spinning me around.

“Gunter, what the hell are you doing with my wife?” he demands, surrounded by his security.

“It appears your wife prefers your brother.” I give a throaty laugh, stepping closer to him while I button up my slacks. “And they say love is eternal! They’re wrong, love dies and I’m here to kill it.”

His gaze follows my casual movements before flying back to mine, then flicking over to his wife.

That’s right asshole, play right into my hands. I couldn’t have planned this better.

He points a finger in her direction and draws in a large gulp of air, winding up to protest. Taking advantage of his impending tirade, I draw my knife, grab him by the throat, and pull him in front of me as a shield.

Before anyone can kick up a fuss, I slam the blade into his throat, then tear across it.

While his poorly trained bodyguards battle with their shock, watching as the blood pours over his chest, I yank his suit jacket back and pull the Glock I know he always carries. Keeping most of my body covered with my lifeless mark, I put a hole in the man’s forehead closest to me.

Screams escalate around us as people scramble to get the hell out of dodge.

Before all hell completely breaks loose, I cap two more bodyguards, shove my mark at the fourth man to divert his attention, and dive to the side, dodging the final guy’s bullet.

I return fire, hitting him twice in the throat and once in the head.

The crowd goes crazy. People scream and run into each other.

As usual, I use chaos to my advantage, and melt into the crowd, heading toward the nearest exit.

The press of bodies funneling out the door becomes a bottleneck situation, and someone knocks me off balance.

But I right myself and push my way through the throng of people.

Fresh night air hits me like a slap across the face when I burst out of the side exit.

Hordes of club goers rush across the street from the main entrance, causing cars to screech to a stop.

I rush down the alley to blend in, but instead of being inconspicuous, I bump into the real Gunter on the sidewalk.

I expected him to be here tonight as he’s half owner of the club. I just didn’t expect him this early. His brother, the other half owner, is the early one, while Gunter likes to come in later in the night and pick the unfortunate woman he’s taking home.

He freezes, jaw hanging open. People swarm past him as he finally shakes himself free of the shock and runs toward his brother’s club to find out what’s going on.

I pause and wave at him. It’s always fun to read the headlines.

‘It wasn’t me; I swear I’m innocent. I saw the guy who did it, though, and he looked exactly like me.’

After flipping him off, I indulge in an arrogant wink at the soon to be arrested brother of my mark. I step away to rejoin the crowd, but a chill runs up my spine. I spin around as a bullet slams into me; the impact forcing me to stagger back a few steps.

I suck in a breath, but my lungs won’t work.

No time to worry about the little things like breathing; I use the crowd as a shadow and disappear into the chaos.

Pain radiates from the wound with every step as I ignore the nausea rolling through me.

My survival instinct blends with my training as I hurry from the scene as fast as possible without drawing more attention.

Two blocks later, I duck into an alley and drag in a desperately needed breath. Dark spots dance before my eyes as a small fraction of the relief I need washes through me with the rattling wheeze. I need a place to regroup before I pass out.

Not how I had planned this shit, but I’ve earned my code name, Shadow.