Page 39 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)

We barely make it to my car, our bodies a tangled mess of limbs and desire, as I leave a trail of love bites and scratches that mirror my fighting wounds across her creamy skin.

Her scent fills the small space, jasmine and something wild.

I push her against the door, her breath catching as my mouth finds hers again, the kiss more urgent, more desperate, more possessive.

My hands are everywhere, exploring, claiming, sending shivers of pleasure and fear through us.

I want to feel every inch of her, taste every part of her, lose myself in the heat of her desire.

It’s not just lust; it’s a desperate need to connect, to possess, to understand each other on a level that transcends words, a primal connection that binds us in the darkness.

So she knows she doesn’t need to follow Blade blindly.

She’s not alone. She’s mine.

I pull her closer, her body arching against mine, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She pulls at my clothes, her touch burning against my skin. I want her now, here, where we’re nothing but our raw, animalistic selves.

“Do you know,”I whisper against her skin, tracing the curve of her jaw,“how beautiful you are when you kill? The way your body moves, a dance of death, a twisted ballet that only I can truly appreciate?”

Her breath hitches, a mix of fear and something else.“How could you?—”

I kiss her again, my tongue tracing her lips. A silent promise, a dangerous invitation.

“The judge,”I murmur, voice a low caress,“The way you positioned his hands, a final plea for mercy. Did he beg? I wish I had witnessed it, to feel the darkness you embody.”

I want to see that darkness, that beautiful, twisted part of her she tries so hard to hide, to know it intimately.

Pulling back, my eyes lock with hers, and watch her respond to my gaze. Intense, a mixture of desire and dark possessiveness.

“I’ve been watching you, Kiera. For two years, I’ve been studying you, memorizing every move, every detail, every nuance of your twisted soul.

I’ve burned my case files, lost evidence, misdirected task forces, all to keep you safe.

I’ve crossed lines, Heathen, lines I never thought I’d cross, all for you. ”

Her eyes widen, confusion swirling in their dark depths.

That’s right, Heathen.I’m not just a hunter; I’m also a predator, obsessed with your every move.My monster sees all of yours—the killer and the woman, the darkness and the light.

“I want you, Kiera. All of you, every dangerous piece of you. And I won’t stop until I have you.”

Yanking the silk panties under her skirt aside, I slam my rigid cock she just freed into her hot, tight core.

Our lovemaking is a primal, desperate dance, a clash of bodies and souls.

Her heart pounds against my chest, her breath hot on my neck, as we move in a rhythm that’s ours alone.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails leaving half-moon marks that sting and burn, a sweet pain that intensifies the pleasure.

Every touch is a revelation, every kiss a claim beyond any we’ve shared before, a brand that sears me to my core.

Her body arches against mine, her curves fitting against my hard planes.

Her breath hitches as I explore her, hands tracing the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the soft silk of her thighs.

She trembles, body responding to mine, a silent language that speaks of need and desire and a connection that runs deeper than the physical.

Her desperate hunger matches my own, a dark and twisted craving that only she can satisfy.

Our tongues tangle, teeth clash, mouths fused in a kiss that’s all-consuming.

I want to devour her, to consume her, to lose myself until there’s nothing left of me.

Each thrust is a promise, a vow, a testament to the darkness we understand, the shadows we inhabit.

She tightens around me, body gripping mine, a silent plea for more, for deeper, for harder.

I oblige, body moving with a raw, unbridled passion fueled by the darkness we both embrace.

I sink into her; the world narrowing to the feel of her, the taste of her, the scent of her, and for a moment, I forget everything but the pleasure that explodes between us.

When the storm finally subsides, I hold her close, our heartbeats syncing. No words can capture the raw emotion swirling through the car.

My phone buzzes, a jarring intrusion that shatters the fragile intimacy. A reminder of the world outside, the world of lies and deceit, the world where we’re supposed to be enemies, not lovers.

I pull away, breath ragged, focus snapping back to the present. I reach for the phone, hand shaking, body still humming with the aftershocks of our lovemaking. The caller ID is a familiar number, a contact within my task force. I answer, voice cool and professional, masking the turmoil inside.

“Wild,”the voice says, urgent,“we’ve got another one. A body, discovered at a construction site downtown. Same MO, same signature. We need you there now.”

I watch her reaction, the way eyes darken, as the words break the silence of the car.

I know her, every twisted, beautiful, dangerous piece of her, and I will protect her.

I’d do anything to nail that bastard she’s married to and free her to be with me.

The realization that I’ve chosen her completely over my job, that I’m willing to risk everything to protect her, should terrify me, but instead, it only makes me more protective, more determined to keep her safe.

She lifts herself off my lap and rights her clothes as I answer the junior asshole agent who interrupted us, then end the call.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Agent Wilder,”she says, voice a low warning, and my blood runs hot all over again. I capture her hand, urging her to stay as she reaches for the door handle.

“Good thing I like dangerous, my Heathen,”I say, words a promise and a challenge, a silent vow to follow her into whatever darkness she inhabits, to be with her, no matter the cost.

She pulls her hand away, eyes searching mine, a flicker of vulnerability that sends a pang of longing through my heart.

Then, she’s gone, disappearing into the night, leaving me alone with the echoes of her touch, the memory of her kiss, the haunting realization that I’m already lost to her.

I watch her go, fighting the urge to follow, to beg her to stay.

I know it’s a losing battle, that she’ll only leave me again, that women like her don’t stay, they haunt, they consume, they destroy, and I’ve accepted that loving her means letting her go, over and over again.

The thought should terrify me, the realization that I’ve become so consumed by her, that I’ve lost all sense of reason, all sense of control. Instead, it fills me with a strange sense of peace, a twisted satisfaction that I’ve finally found something worth fighting for, something worth dying for.

I’ll follow her, always.