Stavros strode into the condo, yanking on his tie to loosen it as Bruce kept pace with him. “Any word from Tennyson?” He went straight to the bottle of whiskey he hadn’t quite managed to finish last night, opened it and put it to his lips. He wasn’t even pretending anymore. He turned to Bruce and found his bodyguard’s concerned gaze on him. He ignored it. “Well?”

“Ah.” Bruce cleared his throat and nodded. “Renzo Vega was attacked inside his club. Tennyson says he’s been shot.”

“Huh.” He took another mouthful of the liquor. “Is he dead?”

“She doesn’t know yet. He’s disappeared.”

He pulled his phone from his jacket and called his uncle.

“Stav, what is it?”

“Renzo Vega has been shot.”

“By us?”

He chuckled. “No, but we have an opportunity. Let’s move.” He wanted Renzo Vega’s club and the other businesses the man owned that he didn’t think people knew about. Stavros knew, and he wanted them all.

“You know he’s not going down without a fight,” his uncle warned.

“He’s already down from what I hear. Let’s make sure he stays that way.”

“Well then, I’ll send some men to Atlanta.”

“Keep me informed.” He hung up then turned to Bruce. “Contact Tennyson. Tell her our men are on the way.” He’d been biding his time, staying out of Renzo Vega’s way, waiting for the right time to make his move. He didn’t care who went after the man, all he knew was that they gave him an opening, and he was nothing if not an opportunistic bastard.

As Bruce spoke into his phone, Stavros’ intercom buzzed. He reached over and pressed it to speak to the guard downstairs. “Yes, Vlad.” He’d fired the last guard after the last incident with Daniel. Who Stavros was not thinking about, damn it.

“You have a visitor, sir.” Vlad cleared his throat while somebody mumbled in the background. “Says to tell Diablo he’s here?”

“Send him up.” He turned away, anticipation making his pulse jump. He went into his office and sat at his desk, staring at the security cameras down in the lobby. He didn’t see Daniel, so he switched to the cameras in the elevator.

He was there. Gaze straight ahead, dressed in a black shirt and pants, under a knee-length wool coat that hung open, the collar turned up.

Hands in his pockets.

He looked grim. Severe.

More than a week since Stavros had seen or heard from him. Not that he cared. But he sat atop his desk, body already tight, cock already hard. Every time he gave in to the invisible force that pulled at them, it got harder and harder to push back. To get away from it. He had to, he knew that. But Daniel Nieto was all of Stavros’ vices rolled into one dangerous sonofabitch.

That made Daniel his new favorite drug.

That made him irresistible.

When the elevator stopped, he walked out of his office just as Bruce gave a shout.

“What the fuck?”

Daniel stood feet away, face inscrutable, jaw covered in more than two days’ worth of gray stubble as he stared at Bruce, and the gun Bruce held pointed at him.

“Bruce.”

“Sir, he just walked in.” Bruce’s gaze flicked to Stavros then back to Daniel. “I don’t—”

“Go away, Bruce.”

His bodyguard jerked then stared at Stavros, shock on his face. “Sir?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Under both men’s intense gazes, Stavros waited calmly until Bruce lowered the gun. After one last confused glance at Stavros, Bruce walked to the elevator and got on.

Daniel didn’t seem to blink.

He frustrated Stavros. Angered and confused him too. Once they were alone, he turned away, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. “Drink?”

“No.”

Well, at least he was using his words, right? As growly and fucked as that one word sounded. He closed his eyes briefly before turning back to his guest. “How is your brother?” Fuck small talk. He put the whiskey to his lips, watching Daniel’s gaze flick over him.

An extra layer of tension hung between them. The raw hunger, the guilt and the pain, that shit was familiar by now. But that fresh whatever weighing them down? He couldn’t place it.

“Are we staring at each other all night?” he asked sharply. “Because I’m busy.” He started walking away. “I have things to do.”

“It needs to end.”

Stavros stopped in his tracks, his back to Daniel. Something cold and devastating cloaked him in ice suddenly. Making it hard to move. “What needs to end?” The immediate effect Daniel had on him was insane. His voice was now just a shredded tone.

“This,” Daniel said from close behind him. “This needs to end.”

“Are you ending it?” He turned slowly. Daniel stood right there, hands still in his pockets. Smooth, he had that appearance, from his features down. But Stavros knew better. He knew everything about the man in front him was rough. Untamed.

Un-fucking-civilized.

“I am ending it.”

How could those four words echo so loud and long inside of him? How could they sink so deep into his flesh and hurt so badly? “This thing, this thing we can’t put a name to. This thing we can’t ever seem to run from, you want to end it.”

“Yes.”

He tightened his hold on the bottle of whiskey, now dangerously low, and stepped forward. Crowding Daniel. “You’re on my bedsheets,” he told him. “The scent of you, all over my bedsheets. I could wash it, but you’re also in my head. How do I fix that?” He wasn’t this man. Had never been this man. But this man wanted to hold on to this. This man wanted to wrap himself up in all of it. “You’re in my chest, my gut.” He pressed the bottle of whiskey to his stomach. “You’re inside me. How do I get you out?”

Daniel’s expression didn’t change, though his jaw ticked. He was unmoved, and Stavros didn’t know how to reach him.

“Lo siento.”

Stavros threw the whiskey with a roar, right past Daniel’s head. The bottle smashed against the closed elevator doors, spilling the last of the liquor. “I don’t want your fucking apologies.” Jesus Christ. Who was he anymore? “There is no forgiveness,” he said hoarsely. “What we’ve done, what we did to each other. There is no forgiveness.”

“Sí.”

He sounded so grave, Stavros wanted to go to him. Touch him. Soothe him. But what about the ache inside him? Was Daniel the one to soothe him? “I want to be selfish.” He tipped his head upward. “I can be selfish.” The impending loss spread through him, turning his words into the harshest of whispers. Torn from deep inside. From that deep space—unknown to him before now—occupied by Daniel. “I want to ask for more, but I won’t because I already know what you have to offer…” He looked into Daniel’s eyes that gave away nothing. That gave him nothing. “Half of your heart won’t do.”

Plus Stavros had already taken so much.

Though he didn’t speak, the expression on Daniel’s face said the same thing. Stavros had already taken so much.

“Go. It’s done. It’s over.” He gave Daniel his back, slumping over the bar, eyes squeezed tightly closed. He’d fucked it all up, too blind to notice just how fast and far he’d been falling.

Ice gripped his chest, the cold shocking a gasp from him. This was loss, shaking his body and rattling his teeth. This was heartbreak, the searing pain that made his entire being curl in on itself. This was pain.

Daniel Nieto had finally broken him.

A hand settled on his shoulder and he yanked himself away, but Daniel caught him. They were fighting, scrambling. Daniel pulling him, and Stavros struggling to get away from it. From him.

It hurt. Jesus. It hurt.

Daniel managed to get him face to face, and fisted his tie, choking him. Stavros swung at him, hitting him in the jaw. Then Daniel’s mouth was on him, biting, tongue shoving in. Bringing the taste of blood.

Stavros shook at that taste of him, and he opened wider. Wanting more. Asking for it. Daniel fucked his mouth hard, eating him up, panting as he tore at Stavros’ clothes, ignoring his shirt in favor of unbuckling his pants and shoving them down his hips.

Stavros brought his hands to Daniel’s crotch, gripping him through his pants, squeezing him. God. He was on fire. Anger and lust burning through him. Daniel finished opening his own pants and shoved Stavros face-first into the bar.

Hand at his nape, forcing him down.

Down.

He went, because he wanted this. One last shot at this. One last taste of it. One last everything before he went back to who he used to be. Who he was supposed to be before Daniel Nieto came and tore him open.

Fingers pushed into him. Hard, slamming deep.

Pain.

“Fuck.” He convulsed, but didn’t hide from it. “More.”

Wet fingers fucked him, fast. Furious. They branded him, inside and out. Daniel’s grip on the tie around Stavros’ neck, pulling tight, cutting off his breathing as he struggled for air.

Struggled.

Daniel liked when he struggled.

The fingers disappeared. Then Daniel was there, knuckles brushing Stavros’ ass, smooth blunt head at his hole.

He slammed in.

“Oh God.” Stavros jerked, flailing, arms knocking over the bottle of liquor on that bar. Everything rattled around as Daniel fucked him.

Fast.

Like it was a race. As if they had an expiration date, which they did. As if they were in danger of getting caught.

Smack of the skin on skin.

Their grunts.

Numb fingers gripping the edge of the bar, Stavros fucked him just as hard. Pushing back on him, opening himself up for that cock to sink deep.

Then pull out.

Over and over.

The pounding rattled his bones.

He kept his eyes closed, feeling everything, tasting it on his tongue. Daniel didn’t want to be there. Stavros wouldn’t keep him where he didn’t want to stay. So when they were done, he’d be alone.

Daniel would go back to his dead wife.

That last thought ached something awful. He jerked away, and Daniel pulled out of him, stumbling back. Stavros faced him and found Daniel still wore his clothes, everything on, except for his pants that were around his knees.

Eyes wild. Nostrils flared. Lips swollen and cut on the bottom.

Maybe it happened the first time Daniel took his blade to Stavros’ flesh. Or when he’d fed Stavros his own blood from that knife. However it happened, Stavros had fallen in love with Daniel Nieto. Now he had to let him go.

He’d had him on loan, after all.

He kicked off his pants then walked away stripping as he went, into his bedroom. Not looking back to see if Daniel followed. He did, Stavros felt him, warm and restless at his back. Then his hand went around Stavros’ neck, gripped the tie.

Wrapping it around his fist.

Using it to control Stavros’ movements, bringing them face to face. He’d also undressed, and he stood there in front of Stavros wearing nothing but tributes to his dead wife on his skin. A walking memorial to her, etched in ink. Stavros closed his eyes at the sight of her name on Daniel’s chest.

Impossible.

They’d always been impossible.

A jerk on the tie brought him nose to nose with Daniel, and Stavros’ eyes flew open as Daniel’s mouth descended on his again. Taking him again with desperation, every swipe of his tongue stealing away pieces of who Stavros thought himself to be.

He couldn’t say no. Couldn’t turn away. Everything about this was necessary, even the restriction around his neck, denying him an easy breath. Daniel panted into his mouth, tongue delving deep.

Stavros clawed at him, striving to leave his own marks behind. He took two steps and they fell onto the bed, Daniel on the bottom, Stavros on top, writhing. Riding him.

Grinding.

Their cocks pressed together, hips jerking as they rubbed against each other. Daniel moaned, body vibrating under Stavros. He took control, breaking the kiss, lips skating down Daniel’s throat.

Kissing his scars.

Daniel let go of the tie to cup Stavros’ nape, fingers dipping into his hair, pulling. Tugging. Stavros made his way downward. Biting nipples. Just plain biting. Tasting skin.

One last journey.

One last time.

He straddle Daniel, one hand on the other man’s chest, the other wrapped around his cock. Bringing it to his entrance. Staring into Daniel’s eyes, eyelids weighted down with lust.

With regret.

With more.

Stavros rejected that notion of more.

He lifted up, rubbing against the cock at his hole, until Daniel’s fingers rake down his front.

“Ugh.” He sank down on it, cursing, panting. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Stavros.” Daniel yanked him down, teeth in his chin, large palm on his ass as he thrust upward.

“Unnghh.” Hurt so good. Everything about Daniel hurt him so fucking good. He begged for more. More pain. It was all he knew anymore. All his body understood. Weak from all the sensations bombarding him, he clung to the sheet on either side of Daniel.

Ass open.

The tie tight at his throat cutting into his breathing.

Over and over Daniel banged into him. Stavros cried out with each stroke. Death strokes, because they killed him. Yet he didn’t stop loving them. Arching into them, pushing back. Rising up and slamming down.

Until Daniel caught him around the neck and reversed their positions. Now he was on top, Stavros’ back pressed into the mattress. Legs in the air. Ass filled again. Body contorted, almost folded in two. Each thrust pushed him into the headboard.

He kept his eyes on Daniel, because Daniel kept his eyes on Stavros. That gaze, fucked to darkness with wild lust and the roughest type of hunger, it touched Stavros where not even Daniel’s cock could reach. So deep inside, Stavros couldn’t handle it, not then. He twisted around, flipping onto all fours.

Knees spread wide, torso kissing the mattress. Spine curved and ass pointed to the ceiling.

He reached behind and pulled himself apart. Offering it up. “Fuck me.” He didn’t do coy. Never had. He wanted to be fucked tonight. Tomorrow was for different things. He recognized the thirst for destruction on slow leak inside him. He’d deal with it tomorrow.

Tonight, now, Daniel Nieto was taking one last piece of him.

Sucker for pain that he was, Stavros offered himself up on a silver platter.

Daniel took that offering. Slamming deep.

“God. Damn.” Stavros threw his head back. “Yess.” He hissed out his appreciation. “Just like fucking that.”

Just like that Daniel delivered his strokes. Steady and precise, hitting his gland over and over. Battering him until Stavros pitched forward, face in the pillows, cries muffled as Daniel worked him over.

His to fuck. His to torture.

Stavros had never ached so good. Never cried out so loud. Never begged so much. “Deeper. Let me feel it. Let me feel.”

Daniel came down over his back, sweaty front pressed to Stavros’ back. Mouth on his nape, panting breaths in Stavros’ ear. One of his hands shoved under Stavros and reached up, circling his throat.

He tilted his head back, gave Daniel access as those fingers closed around him.

Squeezing.

Taking his breath.

His pulse tripped over itself and that fire in his belly roared into an inferno. Flames everywhere as he burned. Breath gone. Darkness rushed in.

“Daniel.” Whatever breath he had left, he used it up to speak his name. The fingers eased up and breath came rushing back. He gulped, body jerking as he panted.

Daniel’s hips lifted off him. His dick retreated, leaving Stavros’ clenching ass.

“Don’t.” The ragged whisper hurt. “Don’t go.” For a second there, he wasn’t just talking about Daniel’s departure from his body.

Lips pressed to his ear, his temple. Simple, but Stavros couldn’t stop shaking. Trembling.

Daniel came back to him, wet dick pressing back inside.

Slowly.

Dragging along his throbbing muscles.

Reaching places. He switched it up, going slower, almost tender. Stavros contracted around him, and Daniel grunted. He reared back and drove in.

Yes. He could handle the hard stuff. The rough shit.

But Daniel didn’t seem to care because he went slowly again. So slow, taking his time to sink deep and roll his hips. Stavros pushed back onto him, trying to urge him to go for that bit of rough again.

That wildness. The breakneck, punishing pace again.

But Daniel kissed his neck.

He stretched out on top of Stavros, hands sliding down Stavros’ arms. Fingers reaching for his, clutching him. Stavros’ breath hitched.

Don’t do this.

But it was too late. Already too late. Daniel fucked him in silence. Slowly. Making sure Stavros’ destruction was complete.

Teeth grazed his skin, and without a hand on his cock he exploded. Just like that. Daniel smothering him with sweaty skin and biting kisses, their fingers twisted around each other.

A pulsing cock thrusting in and out of him.

He came shouting, bucking. Arching off the bed as he spasmsed, ass contracting painfully as sticky warmth flooded him.

Daniel climaxed with him, grunting, fingers painful around him. Stavros couldn’t stop clenching, and in response Daniel’s shaft jerked inside him. He didn’t move when Daniel finally lifted himself off and pulled out.

One last fuckup, Stavros realized, as cum rushed out of him and onto the mattress.

No protection.

There was no reason for him to feel owned, like Daniel’s possession. But he did anyway. He scrambled upright and past Daniel who watched him with hooded eyes. In the bathroom he ignored his eyes in the mirror as he splashed water on his face.

Jesus Christ.

How could he have fallen in love with Daniel Nieto? How could he let that happen? He picked up something, a soap dish, and threw it across the bathroom. Then he scrubbed a hand over his face. His body was still quaking. As he stood there, cum leaked out of him, trickling down the back of his legs.

He clenched his muscles, gritting his teeth. It was over, right? This sex, their sex didn’t make a difference. He’d thought they were making progress. All those nights in that bed out there. Every day Daniel would ride that elevator to the penthouse at sunset, and he’d stay until the sun rose. Stavros thought—

Daniel wanted to put a stop to it. Stavros would give him what he wanted.

He walked out the bathroom. Daniel hadn’t moved from the bed. He stared at Stavros, gaze falling lower to where his cum was probably decorating Stavros’ legs. He didn’t bother to look to confirm that stupid oversight.

“Stavros.”

Fuck, his voice. That sound, coupled with Stavros’ name, destroyed things. Bloodied things. Daniel’s pulverized voice invoked memories of death and brain-numbing screams.

But still, still Stavros loved that voice. The way it weakened his knees and stiffened his spine. The way it flayed him open, exposing parts of him no one but Daniel ever got to see. He showed his enemy his weakness.

Now Daniel was walking away, armed with Stavros’ heart.

“You don’t have to worry,” he managed not to sound as shattered as he truly was. “You’re safe.” He swiped a hand through the cum on the back of his thigh and held it up, palm to Daniel. “You’re—You’re safe.”

“I am—”

“You can go now.” He fisted his hands at his sides. Hardening himself against another pathetic apology. Ripping off the fucking emotional Band-Aid. The pain—he’d say he’d been through worse, but he refused to let Daniel turn him into a liar. “You and those lies you tell yourself. Take them with you.” He strode over to his bedroom window, looking out at nothing.

Waiting.

Waiting for the creak of the mattress. For the sound of clothes sliding against skin, and the jangle of belt buckles. For steady footsteps that got farther and farther away. And finally for the sound of his private elevator.

Then he allowed the grief and his fucked-weak knees to take him to the floor.

He’d been left before. Had his heart broken, too. That blow had never tossed him on his ass before now. That blow had never hollowed out his chest before today.

This love.

This loss.

Daniel Nieto.

Together they slaughtered him.