Three weeks.
We spend three weeks under complete lockdown. All the Kildares, obviously, but the Drakos family too. Ares and I hole up in the penthouse. Food and whatever else we need is brought to us. The guard presence in the lobby, around every entrance, and patrolling the building on random floors triples.
It becomes a problem with several other of the extremely affluent residents in other units, to the point that there’s a meeting to discuss the “criminal presence and persistent threat of danger on the property”.
In the end, Ares settles that particular problem by literally buying up the condos of the residents who make a stink about it.
The real downside—and it’s a big one—is that it sucks being away from everyone for so long. I can’t visit Eilish, and she can’t visit me. It’s the same with Callie, and she’s become super close with Eilish and I.
But I know this is the way it has to be, until the Executioner is recaptured.
Two weeks ago, I made a conscious decision to stop watching or reading the news. It became too much: almost every story was either about Seamus’ history of violence, or his time inside jail where he was just as violent, or his threats to me on live television. If not that, it was various “experts”, usually ex-law enforcement people, speculating on where he might be.
Or worse and even more disturbingly, on how long it might be before he tries to make good on the threat he made on TV.
Mercifully, the press doesn’t know for sure why he wants me dead. They don’t know about the deal my father made with the FBI. Or about my abduction when I was nine. Or about my testimony being the final nail in Seamus’ coffin.
All of that was sealed fifteen years ago.
So most news outlets have come to the conclusion that Seamus is just insane and irrational. But still, avoiding the news is important for the sake of my mental and emotional state.
There is, in fact, one upside to this whole situation: I’ve spent three weeks utterly locked up with my husband, the god of war.
Who also happens to be the god of sex, playing my body like a violin virtuoso and making me come harder and more explosively than I was actually aware the human body was physically capable of.
So, uh, yeah. That part’s good.
That part’s really good.
“Spread your legs.”
Did I mention how fucking good this part is?
I’m lying in the middle of our bed, blindfolded, naked, heat rushing through my face at how extra exposed I feel because of the pillow under my ass, raising my hips up.
And now he wants me to spread my legs? Hot. As. Sin.
When I hesitate, I suddenly gasp as I feel his hand lightly swat at my inner thigh. Not a hard smack, but with just enough force to make me shiver and whimper.
So I do as he says.
I feel Ares move down one leg, teasing his fingertips over my skin until his big hand wraps around one of my ankles. He loops something silky around it, and I shiver as I feel him pull it tight.
“Ares—”
“Shh.”
I throb with heat as he moves up that same leg. And just as his fingertips are millimeters from touching me where I desperately need him to touch me, they move to the other leg instead. I groan in frustration, my hips squirming as he teases down to the other ankle. When he loops more silk around that one and pulls tight, suddenly, I stiffen.
“Hang on, what are you—Ares…”
I whimper as I feel his weight shift on the bed, and his fingertips drag up my ribs to tease over a breast. He dances his touch over my nipple, swirling a finger around the achingly hard, pale pink nipple.
My back arches in pleasure as a drawn-out sigh falls from my lips. Just as it does, his touch leaves my breast. He trails his hands down to a wrist, and I shudder as he roughly pushes it up above my head and loops a third silk around it.
Heat throbs in my core. He’s tying me up.
For one microsecond, I almost scream. There’s a momentary flash of pure panic as my body tenses and my mind replays nightmares from my past.
Of someone else tying me up, but not to tease me. Not to give me pleasure like Ares is doing.
To cut me. To make me bleed.
To kill me.
“Bad.”
My brow knits as my body tenses.
“Wh—what?”
“Bad.” He growls the word low into my ear as his touch trails to my other wrist. “That’s your safe word. I know what you’re thinking right now, Neve,” he murmurs quietly. “I know where your mind is going. But you know who I am. You know where you are. And you know this is not then and I am not him.”
I swallow, allowing my heart to stop racing. I nod quietly.
“I’m not doing this to send you back to that place, Neve. I’m doing this to free you from it.”
The fourth piece of silk slips over my wrist, pulls tight. And for the second time in my life I’m totally helpless, tied up, and at the mercy of a man.
But just as I think that, and anticipating that the terror will come rushing back…it doesn’t. Because he’s right: this is not that time or place. And he is not the monster from my childhood.
I’m in a place that’s come to feel like home, not a shack. The bonds are sensual silk, not harsh rope. The touch against my skin is a lover’s gentle caress, not a monster’s honed blade.
And even though I feel like this should terrify me, it doesn’t.
No, it’s not fear roaring through my veins right now.
It’s pure, unbridled lust.
I shiver as he teases his fingers over my skin, making me whimper when he touches a nipple again.
“If this becomes too much—”
“It’s not,” I gasp as his hand traces lightly over my stomach, pushing lower. “More.”
“If it does, though. Just say the word. Say bad, and this ends. The knots get cut, the blindfold comes off, and I stop touching you.”
“I don’t ever want you to do that,” I murmur quietly.
“Do what?”
“Stop touching me.”
I jolt, whimpering as I suddenly feel his lips against my ear.
“Good. Because I’m going to have a hard time ever keeping my hands off you.”
I moan when his hand slips down to cup my pussy. One finger drags lazily up through my dewy wet lips, rolling over my clit as I gasp in pleasure.
The weight on the bed shifts again and I shudder heatedly when I feel his hands skim up my thighs, followed by his breath.
“Ares…”
His mouth hums against my pussy, his tongue lapping against me. I cry out, hips rising against his mouth as the pleasure shudders through me. His tongue swirls in slow, agonizing circles around my clit, until my body is shamelessly, violently bucking against his mouth.
He keeps the tease going, a warm, slow wave washing over me. Then he drags his tongue lower, spreading my lips with his fingers before plunging his tongue into me. I groan in pleasure, eyes rolling back beneath the blindfold.
“Yes…”
He growls, the rumbling sensation vibrating through me as his tongue drags up through my folds. Ares takes my clit between his lips, swirling the tip of his tongue around the aching bud until I’m begging him—loudly—to make me come.
To which, he only chuckles darkly.
“Oh, you’ll have to beg harder than that, my wife.”
His tongue plunges into me again, making me squeal as I strain against my bonds. He licks up to my clit again, cranking the pleasure higher until I’m sure I’m going to come then and there. Which is, of course, precisely when he backs off, leaving me a shaking, whimpering, whining mess.
“Please!” I moan.
His teeth nip my inner thigh, and I cry out. His thumb rolls over my clit as his tongue slowly fucks in and out of me. Then it moves lower. My eyes bulge behind the blindfold, my mouth going slack.
“Where are you…ohmyfuckinggod…”
His tongue touches my asshole, and fireworks explode in my head. The tip swirls slowly around my ring, sending pure fire and lightning through every nerve in my body. An inhuman whine of pleasure melts from my mouth, my body going stiff and then utterly slack as he tongues my most private place.
“Holy fuck..Ares…”
“You like my tongue there, don’t you? Such a dirty girl.”
I whimper, nodding as I melt into bliss. His thumb rolls slow, deliberate circles around my throbbing clit as his tongue traces the same pattern against my ass. He grips my cheeks tightly, spreading me farther open and giving his tongue deeper access. I whine in pleasure, my hips bucking as much as they can against his mouth.
“Good girl.”
I almost come the second he says it. There’s something so unbelievably wrong—almost blasphemous—about him calling me a good girl while he’s doing something so wicked and bad to my body.
“Does my good girl want to come?” Ares growls.
I whine in pleasure, nodding vigorously. My hips are moving on their own, rolling and arching against his tongue. The pad of his thumb rubs circles over my clit, and I moan as he sinks two fingers into my pussy.
“Please!” I gasp breathlessly, lost and drowning in a haze of pleasure.
Ares suddenly pulls away, making me whimper in protest before I feel his weight shift. I shiver as I feel him move, as if he’s kneeling…by my head? Behind my head? On either side of…?
“Then you’d better open your mouth like a good girl.”
That’s when I feel the thick, swollen head of his cock slide wetly across my lips, and I realize he’s kneeling astride my face. Eagerly—wantonly—I open my mouth and wrap my lips around his cock.
Ares hisses in pleasure.
“Fuck yes, just like that,” he groans. “Such a good girl. Such a pretty little cock-sucker.”
It occurs to me instantly that if it was literally any other man in the world calling me that, I’d bite down. Hard. Then I’d use my safe word, tell him to go fuck himself with a claw hammer, and leave.
But with Ares, it’s like pouring gasoline on a fire. Because with him, it’s different. When he calls me a good girl, praises me like that, it makes me want to melt. Or explode in pure ecstasy. And I realize now that when he pushes things into a darker, dirtier direction, it’s got just as much power over me.
Maybe even more. Just now, with those words, without even touching me it was like he’d just run his tongue over my clit. I moan deeply as the realization hits me. I whimper, sucking on the thick, swollen head of his cock stuffed between my lips and swirling my tongue around it. And it swells even bigger, and when he groans, it’s the same sensation as his praise with words.
“Say it again,” I whimper quietly as I momentarily slip my mouth from him.
He chuckles darkly, sending shivers through my body. I feel him touch me—feel his fingers dragging up through my slick lips to roll my clit.
“Is that what has your pussy so sopping wet and messy for me?” Ares growls. “Being told what a pretty little cock-sucker you are while my big fat dick is stretching those gorgeous lips wide apart?”
I spasm, nearly coming as he rubs my clit in slow circles. Ares chuckles darkly again.
“Open your mouth, beautiful,” he rasps. “Open that mouth and show me what a good little slut you can be for my cock while I make your pretty little pussy come for me.”
He shifts again, and I cry out when his mouth covers my pussy. His tongue swirls around my clit as he sucks it between his lips, his fingers curling into me. His thumb traces circles around my ass as he lowers his hips, pushing his cock between my eager lips.
I moan, sucking and slurping wetly on his swollen head. My tongue drags and dances around the crown, relishing the way it becomes even bigger and harder in my mouth. I can taste the sweetness of his precum as he growls, shallowly fucking my mouth as he devours my pussy. My world begins to blur, my body melting into liquid fire until I can’t even think anymore. All I can do is hum and moan wildly around his cock, tonguing the bulbous head eagerly as his mouth and fingers shove me over the edge.
The sob of pleasure wrenches through my body, shattering through every nerve ending and turning me to fire. I scream a muffled cry of pleasure around him as the orgasm explodes through my core. My hips rise, pushing eagerly and desperately to his mouth as his tongue and his fingers turn my world upside down.
Ares hisses, and I whimper as he pushes his cock deep into the back of my throat. He roars, his hand shoving down to grab a fistful of my hair just as he starts to come. The thrill of his strength, of being under his control, and of his power over me in this moment is like napalm. And as I feel his cock throb between my lips, I start to explode again. His cum spills over my tongue, and I’m eagerly swallowing every last drop as my lips stretch around him and my own orgasm rolls into another, until my world blurs at the edges.
After that, I go limp. I can’t even think straight as I collapse into the sheets in a state of bliss and an orgasmic haze. I’m dimly aware of Ares undoing the silk ties at my wrists and ankles. Of slipping the pillow out from under me before gathering me up into his arms.
When I finally open my eyes, I see him hovering above me, his gaze stabbing into mine. We don’t say a word. Not because we don’t know what to say, but because we don’t have to. Everything that needs saying is written right there on both of our faces.
It scares the hell out of me.
It also makes me want to scream in pure joy.
And it makes me want to stay in this moment forever, wrapped in his arms and lost in his fierce gaze.
His hand cups my cheek as he leans down. I blush, shying away.
“I should brush my teeth—”
“Do you think I give a fuck about that?”
Our mouths crush together, his tongue instantly pushing between my lips to swirl with mine. I moan desperately, kissing him back and tasting myself on his tongue, as he does the same. It’s intensely intimate. And I don’t ever want it to stop.
I don’t any of this strange and wonderful reality we’ve built around ourselves to stop.
Ever.
The next day, for the first time in ages, we actually have to put on clothes, after one of Ares’ captains calls up to let him know we have a visitor.
Cillian.
Five minutes later, dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt, Ares is opening the door for my uncle. I step into the main living room from the bedroom, trying to hide the flush in my cheeks as I zip up a hoodie. But, I’m sure the second Cillian’s eyes land on me, he knows.
There’s simply no hiding a flush that’s pretty much permanent now.
A second man follows Cillian inside. For a second, I frown, trying to place him. Then it clicks.
“This,” Cillian grunts, turning to Ares and then gesturing to the older, handsome man in the suit next to him, “is Shane Dorsey, with the FBI.”
Ares lifts a brow. “Exactly what is this about?”
“Surprise. You’re under arrest,” Cillian smirks sarcastically.
“Hilarious.”
Agent Dorsey clears his throat and extends a hand to Ares.
“Shane’s a friend of the family,” Cillian explains as the two other men shake brusquely.
Agent Dorsey turns to smile at me. “Great to see you again, Neve.”
I see the shadow flicker across Ares’ face, and the way his jaw grinds dangerously. He loosens slightly as I move next to him and slip my fingers into his.
“Agent Dorsey was my handling agent after…before.”
Cillian nods grimly. “Personally, I’d have rather spent a solid week alone with that motherfucker and had some fun with a filleting knife. But Declan gave Shane here the career bump of a lifetime when he let him bring Seamus into custody. In exchange, Shane, who’s now acting chief of the greater New York area, is the one who turns a blind eye to all Kildare activity here.”
Ares’ eyes narrow.
“You should have fucking killed him when you had the chance.”
Shane lifts a shoulder, a grim look on his face. “No argument here. Cillian’s right. Bringing that shithead in made my career with the Bureau. But in hindsight I’d trade it all to go back in time and put a bullet in that psycho’s head.”
Ares nods in approval at that.
“Anyway, I wanted you both to hear this in person.” Cillian turns and gives the floor to the FBI chief, who clears his throat.
“We haven’t gone public with this yet, but you should both know that the Bureau tracked Seamus O’Conor crossing the border into Mexico yesterday morning.”
I wish the news was—more. I wish it was that he was dead, or tied to the front of a rocket blasting into the sun. But even so, the second I hear it, a certain weight lifts from my shoulders. It’s like my lungs open a little more for the first time since hearing about his escape.
Ares frowns.
“You’re sure?”
Shane smiles grimly. “The FBI doesn’t deal in wishful thinking or conjecture, Mr. Drakos. He used false papers, obviously. But we caught him both on camera and via a number of eyewitnesses crossing into Mexico. He went directly to the main branch of Banco Santander in Juarez and left with two suitcases he didn’t walk in with.”
My eyes widen, and my breath comes more quickly. My hand squeezes Ares’.
“There’s a number of accounts we weren’t able to seize from O’Conor when he was arrested. Accounts under different names, different corporate identities. Mexico isn’t the Caymans, but if you pay off the right bank boards or directors, they’ll stonewall even the FBI for a couple of decades at least. One of these accounts was at Banco Santander, to the tune of thirty million US dollars. As of yesterday, that account has been closed.”
“Meaning?” Ares growls thinly.
Agent Dorsey smiles thinly. “Meaning this asshole is gone, Mr. Drakos. The Bureau thinks the most likely scenario is that O’Conor is going to head somewhere without a US extradition treaty and live out the rest of his miserable fucking life drunk on a beach.”
Holy shit.
More and more weight lifts from my shoulders. My heart begins to race.
“I thought you just said the Bureau didn’t do lot of wishful thinking or conjecture,” Ares grunts.
Dorsey chuckles. “That’s not wishful thinking, Mr. Drakos. That’s our official theory. Look, the man has zero connections left in the US. They’re all either dead, or want him dead, or would happily sell him out for some of that sweet sweet Bureau immunity. O’Conor’s got thirty mil in cash, nothing for him here—”
“I think he was quite clear on national TV about some unfinished business here,” Ares hisses.
Shane nods, turning to give me a quick look.
“Look, I’m not saying you should leave your doors unlocked. And of course I’ll keep some of our off-book assets looking out for Neve. But my professional opinion is that the stunt on TV was a deliberate tactic to get put into isolation. Whoever broke him out used the fact that he was in solitary to—”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Naked fear sinks its claws into my heart. Shane turns to give me a grim look.
“I’m sorry for the blunt news. But yes. He definitely had help. They used a security flaw in the solitary confinement facility within Florence to break him out.”
“Who the fuck is ‘they’?” Ares snarls.
Dorsey sighs. “Thirty million buys a lot of friends, Mr. Drakos. We’re looking into it. But whoever it is, they won’t have any vendetta against Neve. It’s more likely a for-hire crew of mercenaries.”
“So…” I frown, swallowing thickly. “What now?”
“I’d say stay as safe and secure as makes you comfortable, Neve,” Shane grunts. “You have to live your life. The fact is, O’Conor is out of the country with two literal suitcases full of cash, and no logical reason to want to come back. He’s also at the top of the United States most wanted list. Every border agent and law enforcement officer in the country is looking for him. If I were a betting man, my money would be on that asshole sitting on a beach in Vietnam with a fake name in his passport and a cocktail in his hand by tomorrow night.”
I blink, my pulse thudding hard.
It’s over.
Yes, if Seamus isn’t dead he’s still out there. But knowing he’s already across a border, possibly clear across the other side of the planet, with all that cash, and hearing Shane’s theory about Seamus wanting to get himself thrown into solitary as part of an escape plan somehow has the weight on my shoulders crumbling away. It’s like finally being shown the underside of your bed and seeing that the monster you’ve been imagining lurking there every night is just an old t-shirt.
Cillian clears his throat. “I’m going to keep a full security detail on you for now, of course. But I’ll leave it to you both to decide how you’d like to proceed in terms of lockdown and all that.”
Agent Dorsey shakes Ares’ hand, and then gives me a comforting yet professional hug while my husband glares death at him. Then Dorsey and my uncle are gone, leaving Ares and me alone.
I’m still standing there silent and numb trying to process it all as Ares comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. I shiver as he lowers his mouth to kiss my neck.
“Whatever you want to do, we’ll do,” he growls. “If you want to head back out into the world, you can do that—”
I turn to arch a brow at him.
He frowns. “Okay, you can do that with an armed shadow escort. Or, we can stay locked in here forever.”
I smirk. “Forever?”
He shrugs. “If you want.”
I smile, twisting in his arms to face him.
“Look, don’t get me wrong. Being locked up in here for weeks on end with you has been…”
“Trying? Illuminating? Disenchanting?”
I giggle. “I was going to say heaven, if exhausting.”
He grins wolfishly.
“But…”
“But you’re not a parakeet,” Ares finishes for me quietly. “I know. And you’re not my princess in a gilded cage either, as much as I like the sound of that.”
I grin, shaking my head.
Ares sighs. “Then back to the world at large it is. With a shadow guard.” His brow furrows. “Don’t even try to fight me on that one.”
I blush, grinning at him. He grins back.
“So,” Ares grunts. “Where are we going tonight for your first taste of freedom in three weeks? And please don’t even think of suggesting The Banshee.”
I chew on my lip, one hand coming up to lazily trace a finger over his hard chest through his t-shirt. A flush creeps into my face.
“What if we start this whole freedom thing tomorrow?”
His brow arches. “All right. And tonight?”
“Tonight…” I blush as I stand up on my tiptoes to bring my lips near his ear. “Tonight, how about you do to me again what you did earlier, and show me exactly how much your princess in a gilded cage I am…”
I shiver, whimpering as his hands eagerly slide down to grab my ass possessively, pulling my body tight against his. A low growl rumbles in his chest.
“You want me to blindfold you again?”
I swallow, nodding.
“And tie you up?”
I nod again, whimpering as one of his hands slides up to grab a fistful of my hair at the nape. Ares groans, fire flickering in his eyes as his mouth descends to my neck.
“I hope you’re wearing panties.”
My breath catches.
“Why—”
“Because you’re going to need them stuffed into your mouth to stop from waking half the goddamn city before I’m done with you tonight.”
