Page 45 of Black Heart

I retch and choke as he pushes deeper still, my throat aching from the force of it. But I don’t stop, knowing it’s what he needs from me. My eyes water as I struggle to breathe, but I take him all the way to the hilt, feeling the balls of his heavy sack press against my chin. I taste the metallic tang of my own blood in my mouth, and when that taste mixes with salt and cream, I force myself to swallow all of it as he shouts indecipherable words above my head and comes again.

My heart races, my chest heaving as he releases my hair, stepping back to admire his handiwork as he tucks himself back in. He gives me the once-over, and I feel like a prize he’s caught.

Slowly, he walks around me, circling his prey, his gaze trailing over every disheveled inch of me.

But he’s panting.

His cheeks are flushed.

And his eyes are bright with satisfaction and … apprehension.

His proximity sends tremors down my exhausted body; his presence is a living nightmare, yet I ache for him despite the trauma I’ve just endured.

He kneels before me, taking my chin in his hand. “Say my name.”

“Scythe,” I say automatically, my voice a shell of its former self.

His lips form a bittersweet curve, and there is true fear behind his eyes when he murmurs, “Kaden.”

“Kaden,” I repeat it like an obedient child, but I like the feel of it on my lips. The sound of it with my voice.

He leans forward, capturing my lips in a devouring kiss, his hand roaming down, over my stomach, then around the back of the chair where he snaps my ties open with the same knife that killed a man. Many men.

I make a grieving, pathetic sound when he pulls away.

“That name belonged to a different life, a different world. One I thought I’d left behind.”

The Scythe—Kaden—regards me thoughtfully for a moment before helping me stand. “But your voice makes my name sound like a promise. I never thought I’d want to hear my real name again.”

I regard him warily. This is the part of him I don’t understand—the soft part, the tattered soul hiding within a lethal body with heartbreaking force.

It unnerves me more than any of his threats.

Because now, I need to know why.

14

LAYLA

I’m wrapped in an iron-clad, suffocating burrito smelling of leather and oak.

Kaden doesn’t let me leave his side as we trek through the backwoods and he escorts me home, convinced more Bonesaws are hiding in the bushes readying to ambush us.

Actually,escortis too nice a word. My left arm is numb from how tightly I’m molded to his chest. Every time I shift, his hand clenches around my arm, pressing me harder against him. I’m afraid if I tell him my left side is asleep, he’ll just roll me up tighter and I’ll no longer be able to breathe. Death by leather sushi roll.

Not a bad way to go, but I have too much to do before meeting my maker.

“I’ve been thinking,” I venture to say.

He hasn’t let me speak since we left his warehouse, but we’re far enough into the woods that I’m willing to risk it.

Kaden grunts an acknowledgment.

Kaden. That’s his name. Even having my mind whisper it warms my tummy.

“The illegal AI that Morelli wants, I think I can erase it,” I say.

Kaden grinds us to a halt. “What?”

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