Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
He snatched my hair in his hands so fast, gripping the strands like they were a rope around my neck. He leaned farther over me as he forced me up to bring our faces closer together, his hips still thrusting hard inside me without missing a beat. “Jesus Christ, this pussy…”
“Luca.” Eyes locked on his, I blew up his ego while making myself wetter at the same time. “Fuck me, Luca.”
He gave a grunt as his thrusts became irregular, his dick exploding with seed that he buried inside me. Another load to add to the last. Another metal pinned to his uniform. He claimed my lands and carved his name into the stone of the mountains. All the tension in his cords tightened, and his eyes looked deranged. He came like he was angry, but he looked so sexy doing it, the sexiest bedroom eyes I’d ever seen.
He gave another grunt as he finished, his breaths finally labored once he was done. His fingers relaxed in my hair, but he continued to stare at me like this wasn’t anywhere near over.
My hand went up his neck, and I felt his jawline with my thumb, trailing it to the side until I almost touched his ear. I felt the coarse hair, the shadow that had grown since he’d shaved that morning. Eyes dark like the night but with a touch that burned like fire. “Fuck me like that again.”
His eyes had shown their fatigue just a second ago, but they sharpened slightly at my words. There was also a hint of amusement somewhere on his face, somewhere I couldn’t identify. A slight lift of his lips. Or a smile in his eyes. I didn’t know.
I wondered if I’d ever know him well enough to find out.
10
LUCA
I’d dragged my feet on this for a few days. I wasn’t too busy to get it done. I just didn’t want to.
Carvel rode in the back seat with me. “What’s this about?”
“The Oath is trying to break the pact. I’m gonna stop it before it happens.”
“Who’s their target?” he asked.
“An innocent woman.”
“You sure she’s innocent?” he asked, smoking a cigar with the window rolled halfway down. “They aren’t your average Joe hit men. You hire them when you want someone to be killed not once—but a million times.”
I never asked her for the details because I didn’t need them. In my limited interactions with her, I could tell she was an innocent accomplice to someone else’s crime. One look in her eyes showed the hardness that had been built against adversity and trauma. I could tell she wasn’t a beggar, and the only reason she begged for sanctuary like a refugee was because she’d reached her breaking point. She had no one to call. Nowhere to turn. No chance in hell she was in this position because she put herself there. “She’s innocent.”
He looked at me, and instead of blowing smoke out the window, he chose to let it drift across my face. “Is she innocent, or is her pussy innocent—”
“Want me to break your nose again?”
He chuckled and looked out the window. “Never stick out your neck for a woman…rule number one.”
“It’s our job, Carvel.”
“Our job is to maintain the Republic. Not start shit with the Oath for a single woman. Don’t bullshit me and act like this is purely altruistic. If this were anyone else, you would look the other way—and you know you would.”
My arm rested on the door, and I looked out the window. “Get out if you want.”
He shook his head slightly and took a drag of his cigar.
I watched the buildings and the lampposts pass as we approached the rear of the Louvre, deserted on a cold night. The pyramid was lit up in its glory and surrounded by the buildings that had once housed Emperor Napoleon himself.
The SUV came to a stop, and we both hopped out.
Carvel stomped on his cigar in the road before he stepped onto the sidewalk. “How do you want to play this?”
“Just back me up if I need it.”
We crossed the open space and approached the pyramid protected from approach by a small fence. The people who were there were enjoying a smoke on one of the park benches. A few homeless people were searching the garbage cans. It was three in the morning, late even for Parisians.
Vein was there, standing with his hands in the pockets of his heavy coat, a cigar between his lips. He had large round glasses on the bridge of his nose, looking more like a guy who worked in finance than a professional killer. “You’ve never asked me to do your dirty work before, Luca.” The smoke came from his nostrils as the cigar continued to remain wedged between his lips. His eyes shifted to Carvel. “Another French Emperor…” His eyes came back to me. “Must be a big target. President Martin, perhaps?” He pulled the cigar from his lips, and the smoke continued to drift as he spoke. “He’s a cunt, so good fucking riddance.”