Page 36 of Knuckles & Knives
“Christ, Raven,” he breathes, moving toward me with predatory intent. “ You made me want things I shouldn’t, things my family would destroy me for. Do you have any idea what you did to me, watching you take her apart piece by piece?”
Unlike Dom and Marcus, Kieran doesn’t stop when he reaches me. Instead, he steps between my legs where I’m sitting on the bench, his hands coming up to frame my face with possessive certainty.
“I’ve seen hundreds of fights,” he continues, his voice low and rough with desire, “but watching you… watching you prove that you’re everything your father was and more… it was the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
His confession sends heat spiraling through me, made more intense by the post-fight adrenaline still singing in my veins.When he leans down to kiss me, there’s nothing gentle or careful about it. Kieran kisses like he’s claiming territory, like he’s marking me as his in ways that go beyond simple possession.
His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space between us, until I can feel every hard line of his body pressed against mine, including his cock. The kiss tastes like expensive whiskey and dangerous promises, and when he finally pulls away, we’re both breathing like we’ve been running.
“That was for proving every single person in that arena wrong about who you are,” he says, his thumb tracing my swollen lower lip, “and for reminding me just how much I wanted you before you disappeared… and how much I still want you. Will always want you.”
“Kieran…”
“I know you still have doubts about me, but, Raven…” He touches his forehead to mine and shudders. Then, he’s stepping back, putting distance between us with visible effort. “Ghost is practically vibrating with impatience. I’d go find him before he does something typically unpredictable to get your attention.”
I slide off the bench on unsteady legs, the combined effect of three very different but equally intense kisses making my head spin. “Where is he?”
Kieran’s grin is sharp and knowing. “Roof. Where else would a man called Ghost go when he wants privacy?”
The roofof the Obsidian is accessible through a maintenance stairwell that most people don’t know exists, but Axel isn’t most people, and by now I’m not surprised that he’s found his way to the highest, most isolated part of the building.
I find him sitting on the edge of the roof with his legs dangling into open air, completely unbothered by the five-story drop below. The city spreads out around us, a glittering maze of lights and shadows that seems to pulse with the same energy that’s been driving me all night.
“You know,” he says without turning around, “most people would call sitting up here crazy.”
“Good thing I’m not most people,” I reply, settling beside him with rather more care for the drop.
He turns to look at me then, those amber-brown eyes bright with wild delight and something deeper, more complex. “No, you’re definitely not. Most people don’t knock out professional killers and then climb onto rooftops to celebrate.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Celebrating?”
His grin is pure mischief. “Depends. How do you want to celebrate?”
My pulse races. Axel has always been the wildcard, the one whose responses I can’t predict, whose energy feeds the reckless part of me that five years of careful planning haven’t been able to completely suppress.
“You tell me,” I say, letting challenge creep into my voice.
He laughs, the sound bright and sharp in the night air. “You want to know what I was thinking, watching you fight?”
“Tell me.”
“I was thinking that you looked like a goddess of war down there. Beautiful and terrible and absolutely magnificent.” His hand finds mine where it rests on the concrete ledge, his fingers intertwining with mine. “I was thinking that I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, and that wanting you is probably going to be the death of me.”
The confession is delivered with his characteristic brutal humor, but I can hear the truth underneath it. Axel mightproject chaos and unpredictability, but his feelings for me are anything but casual.
“And what else were you thinking?” I ask, moving closer until our shoulders are touching.
“I was thinking that you deserve someone who can match your fire. Someone who won’t try to tame you or contain you or make you safe.” His brown eyes meet mine, suddenly serious despite his playful tone. “Someone who’ll burn with you instead of trying to put out the flames.”
When he kisses me, it’s different from the others—wild and sweet and tinged with something that tastes like freedom. Axel kisses like he does everything else, with complete commitment to the moment, no thought for consequences or complications.
His free hand tangles in my hair, holding me close as he deepens the kiss, and I can feel the barely contained energy that’s always just beneath his surface. He tastes like mint and danger and possibilities I haven’t considered, and when we break apart, I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning.
“That’s for being magnificent,” he says, his voice rough with emotion he doesn’t bother to hide, “and for choosing us, even though we’re all probably terrible for you in different ways.”
I lean back against his shoulder, looking out over the city that’s about to become my battleground. “Maybe terrible is exactly what I need.”
“Maybe it is,” he agrees, his arm coming around me to hold me steady against the wind that’s picked up. “But either way, you’ve got us now. All of us. Whatever comes next, you don’t face it alone.”
