A loud snore in my ear woke me instantly. Anger flared as I lifted my hand to swat whoever it was away, until the soft, glorious ache of hard sex registered. My ass clenched and my pussy pulsed, as a deep sense of exhaustion washed through me. Then I remembered what had happened. I cracked open my eyes to find soft dark curls right in front of me and my pulse skipped.
Colt…
I turned my head to see stark white hair behind me.
And Carven.
Jesus…the both of them…at the same time.
Something fluttered inside my chest.
I softly bit my lip, then jumped as a heavy hand landed against my waist. With a sudden yank, I was pulled backwards. “Sleep, Wildcat,” the groggy growl came in my ear.
“I was trying,” I sniped back. “But you snore like a damn trucker.”
One blue eye cracked open. “What fucking trucker?”
That sent my pulse racing. “No one…it’s just an expression.”
He scowled, then closed that eye again. “Better be. Don’t make me murder someone before breakfast.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Because he would, wouldn’t he?
He’d murder another man just because he thought I might’ve slept with him. I snuggled hard against his body, letting him tether me against his chest as I listened to the hiss as air escaped his mouth and realized just how much trouble I was in here. Carven wasn’t just demanding in bed…he was jealous and controlling, as well, enough to give London a run for his money. The soft sound of his heavy breaths lulled me back to that perfect bliss. I closed my eyes, ready to drift off…until the human chainsaw started behind me again…and this time it didn’t fucking stop.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding…
I opened my eyes, listened to the sound, and knew sleep was over for me.
I waited just long enough for me to be able to gently grab his hand. The moment I adjusted him, the snoring stopped. This time he didn’t mumble, but I knew he was aware of my every move.
It was like being tracked by a predator. Only this predator didn’t want to kill me.
He wanted to fuck me.
And keep on fucking me.
That ache flared deeper as I eased out from around him and slowly made my way to the foot of the bed.
“Do not go outside, not without me,” he murmured. “That’s an order.”
I spun around, scowling. That’s an order? Who the fuck did he think he was talking to?
Even as the words seethed in my head, I knew there was no arguing, not with him, not anymore. I picked my battles, and this wasn’t one of them. Instead, I clenched my jaw, walked to the massive walk-in closet, and found a pair of gray sweats, a soft t-shirt, and a pullover before I tugged on thick white socks and headed out.
A yawn escaped as I eased open the bedroom door and closed it quietly behind me, leaving them alone. I needed coffee…like, stat. I made my way to the kitchen, but found it empty. The clock said it was after one p.m. and, for a second, I had to adjust myself.
I slipped a mug under the coffee machine and pressed the button. A yawn escaped. It made sense, after we’d spent all night in a whirlwind of emotional torture. I gripped the counter as the machine gurgled and the sharp, seductive scent of coffee filled my nose.
I yawned again, then reached up to grab a second cup and turned my focus to London. That heaviness took hold. I removed my cup and filled his as I added cream and sugar. I carried them into the study, knowing where I’d find him.
There were only two places he’d be…behind his desk…or asleep on the sofa. The door was cracked open. I eased it aside with a gentle push and found him stretched out on the black leather sofa. I placed the mugs down, then turned back and eased the door closed.
The desk was a mess, with pages scattered all around.
That lone computer chip drew my focus. I hated how it triggered a flare of jealousy. I wanted to grab the heaviest thing I could find and grind it into nothing. Maybe if I did, the bitch it was about would follow as well.
The screen on London’s phone lit up as it vibrated and the ringer went off.
I glanced over at him, unmoving, before I approached it.
I wasn’t the kind of woman who snooped.
But the second before the screen went dark, I caught the message.
Congratulations, you’re now fertile.
Fertile? What. The. Fuck?
I turned my head, then quietly picked up his phone. I knew his passcode by heart, since I’d watched him punch it in time after time. My fingers flew across the screen before it unlocked in front of me…
Leaving me to stare at the app where the message had come from. It was an ovulation app, with the profile listed under my name, Vivienne Evans.
Today: Congratulations! You’re highly fertile and will be for the next 2-3 days.
Heat rushed through me as I scrolled down and found my details, from my last period, to my height, weight, and date of birth, driving home the fact that this man knew everything about me.
Now he knew a little more.
What the f-u-c-k was he planning?
He gave a grunt, then shifted his weight. I quickly closed the app and placed his phone down gently before I picked up his mug. My mind was racing when I moved closer, making my steps hit a little harder. He cracked open his eyes as I neared the foot of the sofa and held my focus.
“Vivienne,” he said carefully.
“I figured you’d need one as much as I did.”
“Maybe not as much,” he murmured as he scratched his head and scanned my body. “But I appreciate the effort.”
Heat flushed my cheeks as he rose from the sofa and took a step closer. Even dressed in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday, he was devastatingly handsome. An ache filled me, one that seemed to grow claws the closer he came. I realized in that moment how deeply I’d fallen for him. “If you have a problem with me and the sons, I need to know, London.”
He took the mug from my hand. That dark, possessive stare didn’t once move from mine. “If I had a problem with that, pet, I would never have brought you to live with us in the first place.” He brushed the back of a curled finger down my cheek. “You belong to us. Never worry about that.”
He took a sip and the softness of his mouth transfixed me. Fuck, I’d never wanted to kiss someone as bad as I did in that moment. My body was sated, but this was about more than sex. I wanted him. I wanted him.
He sensed the hunger between us instantly and lowered his cup to move even closer.
Strong fingers slid through my hair as he took my mouth.
I forgot everything at that moment.
Including how to breathe.
The slow kiss deepened.
My hand slowly lowered.
Without missing a beat, he took my cup from my hand and drove me backwards toward the wall as he kissed me hard enough to make me feel like I was falling. I was. Because I was falling for him.
Heavy steps outside were headed toward us. London broke away to turn toward the sound. Guild strode into the study a second before the familiar echo of Carven’s boots followed behind him.
“You need to hear this.” Guild glanced from London to me as he held out his phone.
London scowled, then stepped backwards to hand me my coffee as Carven came into the room, still tugging his black turtleneck sweater down. The muscles of his stomach flexed before they disappeared. That piercing stare moved to me instantly before he muttered. “What’s going on?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” London muttered, then took a sip of his coffee.
Colt came in a second later. His thick curls were a mess as he yawned and tugged down his sweater. He glanced at me, then London as Guild pressed play on his phone…and the news report began.
“It looks like the investigation into billionaire Killion Dare’s death has taken a gruesome new turn. Reports just in have discovered the badly mutilated body of Macoy Daniels, who sources say was a close personal friend of Mr. Dare.”
I stiffened at the name, then slowly turned my gaze to Carven.
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t look away.
But that icy mask of rage flickered under the surface. One that was utterly terrifying as the reporter continued:
But that’s not all. The location of the body outside the tight-lipped religious community of The Hale Order has brought a fresh wave of attention by local law enforcement to the founder and president, Mr. Haelstrom Hale. Mr. Hale is now being investigated after it was reported he misled police to interview Mr. London St. James, which sources say was nothing more than an unfounded witch hunt. Mr. St. James has now been cleared of all enquiries.
London’s lips twitched at the corners.
Those dark, knowing eyes sparkled.
But none of that made me feel safe. Instead, I felt more exposed than ever. I knew better than anyone that when someone like Hale was pushed into a corner, everyone had better be scared.
“Are we going to run now, London?” The words just slipped out. “Do we hide now?”
His brow wrinkled as he settled that careful stare on me. “Run, pet? No, we don’t run. We don’t ever run.”
Those same words echoed back to me from the night they’d rescued me.
I don’t fucking run. Not from them, not from anyone. The moment you do, you’re dead. You know that.
I inhaled deeply as those words hit home.
Beep.
London’s phone chimed, instantly breaking the tension. He stepped around me, snatched it up from the desk, and punched in his code. My cheeks burned as he stared at the screen. There came that twitch again in the corner of his mouth. Was it another reminder of just how fertile I was right now? How this moment was the perfect moment to put a baby in my belly…
You’re fucking mine, you get that? Everyone will fucking know by the time I’m done…they’ll…all…fucking…know.
My heart raced as I relived that moment.
Had that been his plan all along?
Was that why he’d bought me?
To have…his children?
My pulse raced. But he didn’t lift his gaze from the screen and he didn’t look my way. Instead, he lifted the phone and answered the call. “Parker. How are you?”
There was silence…on his end, at least. But I could hear the shouts from the other end…threats boomed, shrill and howling.
But he didn’t flinch, if anything, he grew colder, harder…those lips I’d kissed a second ago twitched at the edges before he spoke. “You’ve known me for over twenty years. Twenty years of using my connections, of using my name to your advantage, what did you think was going to happen when you cut me out? You were there because I allowed you to be there. You were wealthy because I allowed that too. That multimillion-dollar house you just bought at the Cove? I own that house now. That new Bentley you purchased? That’s mine, as well.” He leaned forward and braced his hand on the desk as his voice turned colder and more threatening than I’d ever heard. “I now own fucking everything. So I’m giving you until the end of the week to get your things and get the hell out. You will not get another chance with me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Carven’s brows creased.
He knew.
I knew…
London was about to unleash the sons on everyone.
They’d never stand a chance, would they?
“With me, Wildcat,” Carven murmured carefully, without taking his gaze from London. “You stay with me.”
I swallowed hard, fully understanding now. We weren’t going to run…because to London, this was war.
He lowered the phone and swiped the icon. The study was filled with silence. Even Guild looked at him carefully, and that cold shiver of fear I’d once held for him resurfaced. I’d forgotten what he truly was here. In his arms, I’d forgotten how dangerous he could be.
Now I remembered, with chilling clarity.
“The information from the Vault,” he murmured, then looked at Guild. “I want it. Because I’m about to destroy them all. To hell with waiting for King.”
Beep.
He scowled and looked down, read the caller ID, then answered the call. “Mickie?”
Mickie? The name was familiar. I tried to place it.
“What do you mean, he’s missing?” London snapped. “You let him escape?” He stilled, then stiffened…and went pale. “No doors were open. No walls breeched. You’re telling me Jack Castlemaine has just fucking vanished? Jesus fucking Christ. I want the grounds searched. I want him fucking found. Do you understand me? Find him…now.”
Anger seethed in him after he ended the call.
More than there’d been even seconds ago.
“You wanted to know if we run, pet?” I shivered with the chill in his tone. He lifted his gaze to mine. “Not even when our backs are against the wall. We hunt. We control. We strike fear in anyone who even thinks about making a move and we do it without fucking flinching. We’re not going to run, Vivienne. I want you to shower…I want you to look every bit the woman I know you are…and put on the dress I bought you, because I’m taking you out.”
