Page 35 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)

I watch, frozen, as my wife wipes her blade clean, the light from the street filtering in a cracked window illuminating the crimson stain, the glint of steel, a siren song to the beast within me.

Nausea churns in my gut, a wave of revulsion and a horrifying fascination washing over me as I watch her pose, almost casually, with the man whose head is barely attached to his neck.

This is not the woman I left behind. This is the monster Zephyr created. I know beyond any shadow of a doubt he’s responsible. I just need to find proof.

The high-ranking Umber official lies dead at her feet, a testament to the enormity of Zephyr’s corruption.

Kiera looks up, her gaze sweeping the shadows, searching for witnesses.

Her eyes brush unseeing over my frozen form across the expanse of darkness and debris.

She thinks she’s alone and for a heartbeat, her mask slips.

I see a tiny flicker of the woman I knew; lost within the monster she’s become.

Then, it’s gone, replaced by the cold indifference of a deadly assassin.

The savage beauty in her eyes ignites a fire in my blood, a dark and dangerous desire.

A jolt of adrenaline, a primal thrill, wars with the disgust churning in my gut.

A dark beauty that both repels and fascinates me.

Disgust. Regret. Exhilaration. Arousal. I should be horrified.

Instead, my cock hardens watching her work.

The killer she's become is even more irresistible than the girl I left behind. What kind of sick bastard does that make me? The conflicting emotions tear me apart, and yet, I want her more than ever. I crave her touch, her taste, the way she wraps her legs around me. The way she moans my name, her voice thick with lust. I have to possess her, to claim her again as my mate. No matter how twisted we’ve become, we belong together, now more than ever before. I need her.

My cock throbs, a painful reminder of the pleasure she gave me, the pleasure I crave again.

I remember the way she tasted, her skin slick with sweat and blood, the way she arched into me as I took her against the coffin.

The need to dominate her, to claim her as my own, to remind her of the man she once loved drowns me.

Once she’s made it back to her car, I emerge from the shadows.

The Mustang’s engine purrs, a low growl that resonates with the beast stirring within me.

Kiera’s head tilts as her body stills, sensing a presence.

A flicker of unease crosses her face, a fleeting vulnerability that tightens the knot in my gut.

I step just a bit heavier, my boots crunching on the gravel, announcing my presence. Kiera’s head snaps toward me, her eyes widening with recognition and unease. But practiced indifference quickly hardens her features as her fingers tighten on the steering wheel.

“Blade,” she breathes, her voice a husky whisper, now tinged with a chilling edge that runs straight down my spine.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I murmur, my voice a deceptive caress, concealing the iron fist of my resolve.

Mine.

A breath later, her mask cracks, a fissure appearing in the carefully constructed facade.

“What…how…?”

I step closer, the air crackling between us, charged with unspoken accusations and a simmering desire I will no longer deny.

“Don’t play coy, Kiera. I know who you are. What you do.”

Her hand flies to the door handle, wanting to put us on even footing. I slam my hand against the car door, trapping her. She flinches, her eyes darting to my hand, then back to my face. Anger and fear, raw and potent, flickers in their depths.

“You saw…”

“Everything.”

Something darker flickers in her eyes. A dangerous instinct that both repels and fascinates me. A dark thrill runs through every cell in my body as the predator in me recognizes the predator in her.

“Blade…” she whispers again, my name a warning, a curse, and a plea.

I arch a brow at her in question, daring her to finish the thought that has color rising in her cheeks, hot and needy.

She flinches, her gaze dropping. The silence stretches, broken only by the ragged sound of our breathing. The air charges with the simmering tension between us.

I lean in through the open window, my lips brushing against her ear, my breath warm against her skin.

“You feel it too, don’t you, Kiera? The rush, the power… it gets under your skin.”

My hand tightens on her shoulder, a possessive gesture I can’t stop. She shivers, her body trembling beneath my touch. Her anger simmers, now laced with a need that makes my blood run hot. Desire. Raw and untamed, mingled with the edge of fear.

I storm around her car, my blood boiling with rage and desire. Kiera sits behind the wheel, her eyes wide as I approach. The sight of her—my wife, my betrayer, my assassin—sets my fury ablaze.

I wrench open the passenger door, settle into the seat and loom over her.

“Don’t even think about lying,” I snarl. “I saw everything.”

Her breath catches. Fear and defiance war in her eyes, but I’m beyond caring. Without warning, I grab her arms and drag her across the console onto my lap. She struggles, but I hold her firmly in place.

“You’re mine,” I growl against her ear. “Or did you forget?”

I crush my mouth to hers, claiming her with a bruising kiss. She tastes of danger and desire, igniting something primal within me. My hands roam possessively over her body, remembering every curve, every sensitive spot that makes her gasp.

“Blade, wait…” she protests, but her body betrays her. She’s trembling beneath my touch; her skin flushed with need.

I roughly push her dress up her thighs, my fingers digging into soft flesh.

“Did he touch you like this?” I demand, sliding my hand higher. “Does your precious FBI agent make you wet like I do?”

A whimper escapes her lips as my fingers find their target. She’s soaked, her body eagerly welcoming my intrusion despite her weak protests. I thrust two fingers deep inside her, claiming what’s mine.

“Tell me,” I command, curling my fingers just the way she likes. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Her head falls back against my shoulder, exposing the delicate line of her throat. Unable to resist, I sink my teeth into her flesh, marking her.

Mine.

She cries out, her walls clenching around my fingers as pleasure overtakes her.

“That’s it, baby,” I whisper against her neck. “Show me who you belong to.”

I continue my relentless assault, driving her higher, harder, until she’s writhing against me. Her pleasure feeds my own dark desires, but this isn’t about my release. This is about control, about ownership, about making her remember who she belongs to.

She comes apart in my arms, my name a broken cry on her lips. I hold her through it, my grip possessive, unyielding. When her breathing steadies, I withdraw my fingers but keep her trapped against me.

“We’re not done,” I warn her. I pull back, my eyes locking with hers.

“Not by a long shot.” My hand shifts to collar her delicate throat.

A silent promise, a threat veiled in a caress.

“And you’re not going anywhere.” I lean in, my breath ghosting over her lips, the proximity igniting a fire within both of us.

A fire that threatens to consume us both. “Not anymore.”

She’s deadly but hunted by everyone - the FBI, Umber, and me. Wild wants to arrest her, Umber wants her dead, and I'm caught between my mission and my heart. We're all hunting the same woman from different sides of a war she doesn't even know she's fighting.