Page 51 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)

Blade

B lood soaks Wild’s shirt, staining the old couch beneath him.

I’m sure this isn’t the only nasty shit that’s leaked onto it.

His breathing’s uneven, sharp, as Kiera kneels at his side, hands steady as she dabs at his wound with damp cloths.

The raw, metallic scent of blood thickens the air, mixed with the faint, grounding scent of antiseptic and the whisper of her jasmine scent, soft and sharp as the edge of a blade.

Her focus is absolute, her lips pressed into a thin line, hands gentle but unyielding as she works.

I step out of the room, grabbing more supplies—gauze, sterile wipes from my backpack, and clean water to patch him up until we’re out of here. Anything to get a breather. The image of her face, brow creased in that particular look of hers, is seared into my mind.

I watch Kiera and Bennet through the rectangle opening where the breakfast bar meets the kitchen as I fill a beat-up old pot with water.

She’s wound up, worried over him … and it has the twitch in my eye going crazy.

She talked to me the other night about her feelings for her fucking Special Agent.

I wasn’t pleased then, and I’m damn sure not pleased now.

How the hell do I share her?

Kiera’s being truthful when she says she never got my letter, the safe deposit box key, or an explanation from Zephyr.

I’ll be paying him a visit soon enough so he can tell me why he lied to me.

I’ve spent years hating her, trying to fuck her out of my system.

Is it fucked up? Do I care? Not even a little bit.

I’m not living a fairytale romance here.

But am I willing to share her with the enemy?

I return, a tightness winding in my gut I can’t shake, and there it is — what I fear.

The desire shooting through me when his hand finds her wrist, fingers lingering as her breath catches.

She freezes, just for a beat, her hand suspended over his wound.

Knowing it’s going to hurt and piss me off when it happens, I fight the part of me that wants it to.

I’m the worst type of voyeur ever; wanting to watch it play out but also to storm in there and make her mine.

Let him know in no uncertain terms she belongs to me.

“Kiera…” His voice is a rasp, but there’s a flicker of life in his eyes, something dark and intense.

And before I can fully process, he pulls her down to him. His lips crash against hers, hard and urgent, full of something that makes the hair on my arms stand up.

I stiffen, the sight twisting in my chest. For a second, the air stills, the heat a heady pull. And then she melts into him, surrendering to the kiss. It’s magnetic, the two of them locked together this way, like I’m not even in the room. My hand clenches around the bowl. My pulse pounds.

But I can’t look away. Everything holds still, suspended in that space where desire meets decision.

The tension in the room shifts and I somehow find myself standing in the middle of the living room setting the bowl of water on a wooden tv tray.

Kiera breaks the kiss, catching her breath, her fingers still laced through his, and then, as if suddenly aware of my presence, she turns her gaze to me.

Her pupils are wide, and there’s a smirk dancing at the edge of her lips.

She lets go of Wild, straightening, walking over to me with slow, deliberate steps, her gaze steady on mine.

“Blade,” she whispers, her voice sending a shiver down my spine as she leans into me, her fingers curling into my shirt.

Kiera walks backward, pulling me along with her. When she reaches the couch, she falls to her knees, and I fall with her. Almost mesmerized by her, under her spell. Wanting what she wants, but still not sure I can follow through.

Her lips brush against mine, soft but coaxing, challenging. The jealousy I felt seconds ago blurs, edged out by a sudden rush of something far stronger. She deepens the kiss, her body pressing into me, pulling me into that same magnetic haze, that same dangerous edge.

Behind her, Wild’s watching us. His eyes locked on me, burning with something raw and undeniable. His intense stare, the heat of it, crawls up my spine, and I can’t stop myself from wondering if three grown ass adults can find a way to work this out.

The thrill, the heat — it’s undeniable, a pull I feel right down to my bones. Thoughts of the three of us together teeter at the edge of my mind, taunting me. The air is electric between us, charged with something I can’t name, something that’s been simmering for longer than I want to admit.

I break the kiss. Kiera’s eyes are blown wide, dark with desire, her breath coming fast. Turning back to Wild, she cups his face as if we’ve been doing this for years.

Time becomes a blur of heat and skin and tangled limbs.

Wild, despite his injury, pulls her back to him, his body pressing against with the same fervor of a moment ago.

The three of us move together in a seamless, feverish rhythm, a shared need to burn out the fear and danger haunting us.

It’s raw, intense, every breath, every touch charged with the knowledge this could all disappear in the blink of an eye.

The rain pounds against the windows, the sound like a steady drumbeat as the forest outside wraps around us, hidden and wild.

Inside, in this moment, it’s just us. The world narrows down to flesh and fire.

But then his eyes burn into me again, that damn intensity, and it breaks the spell.

He’s looking at me the way the law looks at a criminal.

Fury spikes, sudden and sharp, at the idea of sharing this moment with him.

I pull back, my jaw clenching. The heat dissipates, replaced by a coldness I can’t ignore.

“No,” I snap, my voice harsh as I meet Wild’s gaze. “This isn’t happening.”

Kiera’s face falls, and Wild’s eyes narrow, anger sparking there. I tear away, fists clenched, the air around me thick and suffocating. I can’t let this happen — not like this.

“Wraith…” Wild says, but I respond before he can speak again and really piss me off.

With a glance at Kiera, I point a finger at the fucker.

“That right there, Kiera. That’s why your fucking fantasy will never work.” My lips flatten. Every part of me wants to take this motherfucker out. Then I’ll be free to start a new life with my wife. “You’re going to have to choose, Kiera. It’s the FBI agent, or your husband.”

She lets out a frustrated sigh, and I notice the fresh blood on Wild’s shirt.

I walk over to the water and when I bring it back to the couch; I catch Kiera glaring at Wild. Setting the bowl on the floor, I pull my sewing kit out of the backpack I dropped off my shoulder when we fell to the floor a few moments ago.

Kiera tries to take it from me. “I’ve got this, Blade.”

I should let her; she’ll be gentler than me. And really, it’s a waste of my time to patch up a guy who’s about to be a dead man.

“I’ll check the perimeter,” I grit between my teeth.

It’s not until I’m outside it occurs to me. She may not choose me.