Page 74 of Silenced

Short, hard pumps get me going more than another woman on her knees with her lips around my dick could ever hope to.

My hips buck as need and want and desire coalesce into one fiery ball of flame that forms right in my fucking soul. I release onto her chest, watching as she frowns, grumbling at the disturbance, before she’s turning onto her side with a sleepy pout.

Fascinated, I watch her, curious if she’ll wake up. Almost wanting her to.

I’ve surprised myself by finding enjoyment in her reactions. When you reach the position that I have, few will spit in your face without fear of reprisals. Her feistiness is a sharp contrast to how she must have been with Rundel…

Another good sign.

The day’s tensions abated, I stroll over to the chair I dumped my jacket on. My mood is practically cheerful thanks to the primitive claiming. My seed trickles between her breasts, loading her down with my scent, a scent she’ll smell all night long… What isn’t there to appreciate about that?

Humming, I rifle through my discarded clothes for my cell phone.

Me: Boris, any news on that piece of shit?

Boris: Nyet, Pakhan. I’m sorry.

Boris: Truly, I’ve only stopped for sleep.

My eyes narrow with disappointment so I switch text conversations.

That’s the problem with worms like Rundel—they know how to burrow deep and hide out until the heat fades.

Unfortunately for him, he’s come to my attention and I don’t stop until I get my man.

In this instance, I won’t stop until I’m the reason he takes his last breath.

Me: Dmitri, tomorrow, send more men to Kentucky. I want to find that motherfucker.

Not expecting a reply when I know he’s on the way back to Miami and I’ve warned him about texting while driving, I retrieve my knife from its holster then return to the bed.

Climbing in beside her, I check my other messages before I tuck my cell beneath my pillow with the knife.

Rolling onto my side, I watch her as she rests, finding comfort in that, in her peace.

I haveneverknown peace, so to see her rest is to enjoy the serenity that surrounds her.

A serenity I’mproviding her.

I close my eyes.

I sleep.

As always, I don’t sleep well.

When she has a nightmare, I’m awake before I realize it, knife in hand, ready to attack whatever caused her fear. Then, it registers that I can’t kill whatever torments her when she’s unconscious—Morpheus owns that world, and not even I can fight his chokehold.

Instead, I fight him with fire of my own.

Skimming over the mattress, I gently tug her into my arms.

Much as she hasn’t each night since I brought her here, she doesn’t demur, just tucks her face into my throat when I hold her close.

She feels like something I’ve always been denied—heaven—and smells likeus.

Perfection.

This time, when I sleep, it’s deeper than before but I’m still awake at five AM.

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