Page 43 of Poisonous Savage

Istood, the chair scraping against the floor.Morecoffee.Thiswasn’t some normal breakfast conversation, yet herewe are.Ishuffled my feet against the cold kitchen tiles, emptied the filter with old grounds, and put in a new one, scooping the perfect amount for an espresso.

“Wegot a new shipment in today.Weshould go sort that shit out.Boysout inOregonwanted some new pieces.”

"Fuckthe warehouse, man,"Marcosighed. "LetRathandle the new toys.Weneed a damn break."

Hunterput his mug on the table, a little too hard, coffee sloshing over the rim.Helooked at me almost nervously. “Whatif we went to the beach?Imean, you can’t swim, but we can watch the waves.”

Myheart skipped.Thebeach.Visionsof waves and freedom danced in my head.Itfelt like forever ago that we made love on the grass.Iwas a whole different person then, still thinking of a life where, somehow, we ruled but lost nothing.Itturned outIlost more than just my innocence;Ialso lost a piece of myself down in that cellar withAngelo.Myromanticism about this life.

"Damnright, the beach."Mylips curled into a smile, andIreached across and grabbed his hand.

We'dsit by the ocean, the salt in the air, the whispers of the waves promising peace.Fora moment, we could pretend we were just people, not monsters playing at being gods.Thesun would press its warmth against us, andI'dsoak it in—the heat, the light, the illusion of purity.Butunderneath,Iknew.

TheBlackHandswere being hunted and eradicated, and in their absence, a new crew would form, trying to vie for the powerTheCinderCrewheld.They’ddie, just like those before them, or they’d be converted into plants.Alwaysheld at arm's length until their usefulness expired.

Butjust for today, we were going to the beach.Wherethe land expands as far as the eye can see, and the water sings my name.

“I’mgonna go get changed and try to take care of my little issue.Seeyou guys in a bit.”

MARCO

TWO WEEKS LATER

Thedoor creaked, a sullen groan after a day drenched in blood and sweat.We’dfinally taken out the last of the rat bastards.Coweringin someGod-forsaken, dilapidated building.Fuckersthought they’d hide from us.Exhaustionclawed at my muscles, each step toward the sanctuary of my room a step closer to rest.Thestink of gunpowder clung to me.Ineeded a shower.

Aflick of the switch and dim light bled through the space.Butit wasn't the usual emptyIexpected.No, it was her— a fucking vision sprawledon my sheets.

Nakedas the day she drew her first breath, she lay there.Herdark curls fanned out on the pillow, a wild mane thatIwanted to wrap around my hand and pull.Eyesclosed, chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of sleep, she was a goddamn oasis in the desert of my existence.

Istood rooted, my gaze trailing down the length of her.Thatscar—a pink slash across her abdomen, healing nicely with the rest she’d been ordered to get.Itpulled at something primal in me, a need to protect, to possess.Herskin begged for my touch, whispered promises of warmth.

Ikicked off my boots, their thuds muffled by the thick carpet.Myjacket followed.Eachlayer shed brought me closer to her, to the heat that radiated from her body.

Musclestensed,Imoved toward the bed, silent, purposeful.Butthis wasn't about the hunt, not really.Itwas about the quiet after the storm, the fleeting moments when the world narrowed down to just skin and need and raw desire.

Ireached out, fingers twitching, and brushed the back of my hand against the soft curve of her hip.Heat.Firelicked up my arm and settled deep in my gut.Atremor ran through her flesh under my touch, a silent call to every dark urgeIkept leashed within.

"Fuck,"Imurmured, a prayer or a curse;Icouldn't tell.

Herbreathing hitched a delicate sound that cut through the fog of my restraint.Darklashes fluttered, and those eyes—bottomless pools of night—peeled open to fix on me.Asmile played on her lips, a hint of devilry that beckoned me closer.

"Marco..."Hervoice was a sultry hum that vibrated straight to my core.

"God, you're fucking perfect,"Igrowled against her throat, teeth grazing the tender skin.

Ihovered over her, the need to have her goddamn undeniable.Mymouth crashed down on hers, rough and urgent.Fuckgentle.Ithad been so long sinceIhad her in my arms.

Herlips parted under mine, a sweet surrender to my dominance.Idrank her in like she was air, andIwas suffocating.Hertaste, fuck, it was something wicked and addictive, a mix of innocence lost and a hunger that matched my own.Nowords, just the sounds of our frantic breaths as we devoured each other's mouths.

Ipulled back, my chest heaving, to look at her—a fucking angel beneath me.Herhair was a mess, her chest rising and falling fast, those eyes glazed with lust.Herskin begged for my touch, and every inch was a callIcouldn't ignore.

"Jesus,"Imuttered under my breath, my voice a low growl that vibrated through the thick tension between us.Myhands, scarred from fights and dirty deeds, felt too rough against the softness of her body.ButwhenItouched her, she arched into my palm like she was made for my touch, made for the violence that simmered in my blood.

Itrailed my lips down her neck, teeth grazing, tongue soothing the bite.EverymarkIleft was a silent vow that she was mine.Sheshivered, a small gasp slipping from her asIfound the valley between her breasts.Worshipingher with my mouth,Isavored the salty taste of her skin and the curves that filled my hands perfectly.

"Please..."Herwhisper was a plea, a crack in my resolve to keep any semblance of control.

Iswore into her flesh; my voice was stripped bare of civility.Myhands roamed lower, mapping the territory of her hips, the dip of her waist, the rise of her thighs—territory that would bear my prints, my bruises, my love.Myfinger traced the raised line that bore the evidence of her capture.Thetorment she went through.Andyet, she hadn’t run.She’dstayed.

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