Page 28 of Fierce Monarch

Mari’s huff was soft and annoyed. “Don’t bother. I’m not interested in rekindling anything because there is no us.”

My mouth was on hers before she could finish. I was already so tired of hearing her say that, even if it felt like the truth in her mind. But I pushed away the irritation because Mari tasted like home and heartbreak, and I was desperate for more. Threading my hand through her ponytail, I tightened my grip, forcing her head exactly where I wanted it. The bite that followed tore a groan from both of us.

Mari opened her lips, and I took it as the invitation it was, deepening the kiss with the sweep of my tongue. I slipped my hand under her shirt, caressing more skin as I backed her against the alley wall, and she let me, arching so I had access to more of her.

“Angel,” I whispered, kissing along her jawline to her neck then back to her lips again as I rubbed soothing circles along that soft skin with my thumbs. I’d missed the feel of her against me. I never wanted to stop touching her.

As our tongues slid against each other, Mari’s weight shifted so she could rub between my legs. If her skin felt like ecstasy, I wasn’t sure there was a word for the way her hand felt as she stroked my straining cock over my jeans. I had a second to kick my hips into hers, to hear the soft moan she tried to hide, before stars exploded behind my eyes and I buckled.

Holy fuck, that hurt.

“Never took you for a cheap shot,” I coughed as I dropped to one knee, holding my balls protectively. It’d been a long time since I’d been kneed in them, and goddamn, she got me good.

Definitely deserved it, though.

So much for going slow.

Mari stood above me like an avenging angel, the gun in her hand promising eternal damnation if I so much as breathed the wrong way.

“Don’t mistake my previous affection for weakness. I’m not yours, Nathaniel Beckstrom. I never was.”

I couldn’t help myself. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll always be mine, angel. Even if I’m not yours.”

“A pity for the both of us, then.” Mari sighed, stepping out of reach before holstering the gun and picking up her phone. She paused at the end of the block, where a car pulled up to grab her. She paused with the door open, the cabbie glancing between us nervously. “Don’t make me kill you, Nate.”

Then she was gone, sliding into the car and disappearing down the street before I could even relearn how to breathe. But I knew that every word I’d spoken was true.

Mari was mine, even if it damned us both. And eventually, she’d figure it out too.

Until then, I’d just have to keep showing up to remind her.

Chapter Eight

Mari

We were back in the conference room that starred in my nightmares. Only this time, I was in the hot seat, not Cash.

“This situation doesn’t just put you at risk, Mari. It puts us at risk too. Seattle looks weak because of your decisions. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Kosas glared down at me from the other side of the table, his eyes hard and angry. Admittedly, it was likely because I wasn’t paying much attention to him. After seeing Nate earlier, I was too fucking numb to care. When I said nothing, he shoved out of his chair and headed for a bottle of booze to take the edge off.

Ajilon leaned forward, elbows on the table as he worked the good cop angle. Or, as much good cop as a crime boss could be. “The only reason we’re here negotiating instead of dealing with the situation ourselves is because of your family’s history in the city. Make no mistake, without it, you’d be dead.”

Didn’t I know it.

A week ago, these men were my allies; now, they were ready to put me down and split my territory. All because of one mistake.

And they called women fickle.

Greyson huffed from behind me, where he’d been silent through the entirety of my verbal lashing, which was exactly why Dominic had been left at home. No way he would’ve kept his mouth shut. The second Kosas got on my case, it would’ve been a bloodbath. “You’re here because Mari’s proven time and again that she’s a good leader. She’s brought more prosperity to the city than ever before.”

“More rules, too,” Kieran O’Bannon muttered behind his father. The fact that he spoke at all was disturbing. He knew better than to offer his opinion when he didn’t have a seat at the table.

Yet he’d done it right in front of me. What did that say about my reputation?

Christ, did I even have one anymore?

Was this what losing power felt like? Watching the men I’d cowed into submission over the years stare at me across the table like I was their disappointing daughter?

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