Three days after meeting her youngest son, Anna-Maria Nieto contracted pneumonia. With her immune system already compromised, she never recovered. And three weeks after that emotional moment, she died.

In Daniel’s arms, with Levi next to him. With Van and Stavros nearby, she left.

The first time Daniel got to see Stavros’ beach house was the day they arrived, all four of them plus Toro, to scatter his mother’s ashes in the ocean. The loss was one he expected, but that expectation didn’t lessen the pain. Nor did it ease the guilt.

He wished he’d told Levi about her earlier.

He wished he could get Antonio out to see her one last time, instead of having to send word to the prison via a third party about her passing.

He wished they’d all recognized the signs of her illness for what it was, instead of chalking it up to her age. To the stress of being the wife of someone like Eduardo Nieto.

Mostly he regretted the time he spent away from her when she needed him most. Time he couldn’t get back.

He tightened his fingers around the rail as he stood out on the second-story balcony outside the master bedroom, looking out over the dark beach below. 1:53 in the morning and he couldn’t sleep. Their guests had left earlier that day, after spending two days at the beach house, so now it was just Daniel and Stavros.

Stavros, who’d been in New York when Daniel got the news about Anna-Maria’s infection. He’d flown back right away and never left. Staying at Daniel’s side, giving him strength when he’d been sure he’d run out. Stavros gave him comfort by just being close.

And Daniel loved him.

Of all the paths he’d seen himself taking after Petra’s death, he’d never seen this one. And he was glad for it.

“Hey.” Arms slid around his naked shoulders from behind, before Stavros’ lips brushed his nape. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.” He tilted his head back and to the side so Stavros could kiss his neck. This was his safest place. Stavros’ arms. The irony wasn’t lost on Daniel, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t afford to. Not when the warmth from his lover’s body poured out into him.

Not when Stavros’ palms slid down Daniel’s chest and settled on his hip, exerting enough pressure to make him turn around and face Stavros’ sleep-creased face under the moonlight. His thick dark hair was rumpled, eyes still hazy with sleep.

The most alluring man Daniel had ever put eyes on.

He brushed a lock of hair from Stavros’ eyes. “I’ll come to bed soon.”

Stavros shrugged. “Or not. Doesn’t matter, I’m here.”

He was, and had been the constant in Daniel’s life. Before, it had been Petra. Then the anger and thirst for revenge. Now, it was Stavros.

“Hey,” Stavros caught his chin, lifting Daniel’s head enough for their gazes to hold. “You feel guilty.”

Stavros knew him, so Daniel didn’t insult him by denying that statement. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Eyes glittering, Stavros nodded. “Tell me why.”

With his back against the railing, Daniel blew out a breath and tipped his head all the way back, staring up at the black sky. “It is true what they say, diablo. El Karma es cabrón.” Karma is a bitch. “I once told a man I would kill everyone he loved and leave him alive to live with that pain. With that guilt.” He met Stavros’ eyes. “I’m that man today. Everyone I love is dying and I’m still alive, living with the pain. With the guilt.”

“Not everyone you love is dying. Your brothers are here. Your nephews.” The corners of Stavros’ mouth curved in the most wicked of ways. “Me.”

“Diablo,” Daniel breathed out the nickname. “I love you.” He had to say it. Had to make sure Stavros understood. Daniel loved him.

Loved him.

“I know.” Stavros leaned into his chest, holding him tighter. “Tell me why you’re feeling guilty about your mother.”

At the mention of her, Daniel’s chest tightened and his breath roughened. “We didn’t recognize the signs earlier,” he rasped. “When she forgot what day it was. When she had trouble tying her laces. She’d leave the house then return, forgetting where she was headed. But I didn’t know. We didn’t know.”

“Of course not.” Stavros stroked his face, brow creased in confusion. “How could you know?”

“My father mistreated her.” Those words were ashes on his tongue, the acrid bitterness a permanent thing. “He took advantage of her weakening state, and we never saw it. She never told us.” He inhaled sharply. “He’d always been a violent man, but I had no reason to think he’d harm the mother of his children.” He grabbed onto Stavros, staring into his lover’s eyes as he said, “I had no reason to think he’d harm the woman who’d loved him for more than half her life.”

But Eduardo liked inflicting pain too much to stop at just his enemies. Or his sons, as it turned out.

“What did he do?”

Thinking about it only served to raise his ire. Daniel fisted his hands, holding them down at his sides as Stavros stroked him softly. Just the barest contact with his fingertips gliding up and down along Daniel’s sides and he wanted to yawn and stretch into the comfort.

“Antonio found them.” The words scratched at his throat, soaked in pained anger. “She was cowering in the kitchen, papá towering above her. She’d set the kitchen on fire trying to make breakfast and he’d knocked her to the ground.” He squeezed his eyes shut before reopening them. “She didn’t know where she was. Didn’t recognize ’Tonio. Couldn’t speak the name of her husband or sons.”

“Jesus.” Stavros’ breath washed over Daniel’s throat.

“I wasn’t home, but ’Tonio brought her to Petra. I would’ve dealt with papá,” he told Stavros. “I would have dealt with him. ’Tonio got to him first.”

“Rumor has it you were the one to kill your old man.”

“Sí.” He knew about the rumors, but neither he nor Antonio ever corrected it. “After that day, she lived with Petra and me. No one knew the real reason. We kept her out of sight once she’d been diagnosed. After Petra died, I had to make a choice about her, about the business. Even from prison, ’Tonio wanted me to go back into the life, but our mother had to come first. And I had to make it so that I could be free to take care of her for however long she needed.”

Stavros released him abruptly and stood next to him, facing the beach while Daniel faced the house. “That’s why you partnered with Syren.”

“He owed me, and he had the resources to make sure I remained untouchable.” He couldn’t keep looking over his shoulder, not if he wanted to help his mother. He couldn’t be behind bars while she needed him.

“You made yourself untouchable from the Feds, but Felipe was something different.”

Felipe was personal. “He blamed me for Petra’s death.”

“Yep,” Stavros whispered. “But you also made him think you wanted back into the business. You forced him to make a move out in the open.”

“And then you cut his head off.” Daniel twisted around to press his lips to Stavros shoulder. “I didn’t expect that from you, diablo. And I don’t think I thanked you.”

“Fuck, I don’t need your gratitude.” Eyes narrowed, Stavros grasped him by the chin. “Why did you take me? Really?” The moonlight gave his eyes an ethereal glow, making them even wider as he stared at Daniel.

He smiled. “Because I wanted you. I needed you,” he confessed. “I thought it was only because of Petra that I saw your eyes in my sleep, diablo.” Leaning forward, he brushed Stavros’ nose with his as he whispered. “I thought that fire in my belly when I thought of you was all hate, diablo. And I thought wanting to keep you close was simply because of what you’d done.”

Stavros blinked.

“But it was more.” Always more. “You gave me so much pain, but you give me pleasure, too. And if losing Petra put me in a prison, you are the jailor. The one with the key. Diablo.” He cupped Stavros’ jaw. “You set me free.”

“Shit.” Stavros looked shell-shocked.

Daniel chuckled. “Sí.”

But Stavros didn’t return his smile. “You can do so much better.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Daniel shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I only want to do you.”

Stavros barked a laugh. “Goddamn. Loving you is—” He shook his head. “Loving you is the shit.”

Daniel took Stavros’ hand and placed it on his torso, over Petra’s name. “Touch me, diablo. And don’t be gentle.”

But Stavros’ attention was locked on his hands splayed on Daniel’s skin. “What do you think she would have said about this? About us?”

For a moment, Daniel had to gather his thoughts. And then he spoke honestly. “I think at first she wouldn’t understand. And she’d probably slap me. But she’d try. She would try to get it, diablo. And she’d want me to live however I wanted as long as I was happy.”

Stavros swallowed.

Daniel leaned forward and kissed him. “She’d want me with someone who could handle who I am. What I am. And she’d say fuck anyone who doesn’t get us.”

Stavros’ eyes went wide. “She swore?”

“Motherfucker was her favorite.” He grinned at the comical expression on Stavros’ face. “Sometimes she’d slip and curse around my mother. Those were fun times.”

Stavros’ throat worked and sadness clouded his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re sharing her with me. So freely.”

Daniel gave in and gathered him in his arms. Stavros clung to him, face buried in his neck. “I shared everything with her. And I will share everything with you. Everything, including her.”

Stavros clasped his nape and tugged Daniel’s head back. “You’ve got me.”

“Do I?” Daniel lifted a brow.

“You’ve got me.” He kissed Daniel, hard. Sharp. “Fuck, you’ve got me.”

Daniel wiped all traces of mirth from his face. “Prove it.”

Stavros’ nostrils flared at that snarled directive and his eyes flashed seconds before he slammed his mouth onto Daniel’s. Hard enough to stagger him, to have him grasping onto something, anything to keep his balance.

But then Stavros’ tongue dove deep, and Daniel didn’t care about staying upright.

He cared only about matching each carnal stroke with his own. About lifting his right leg up to hook around Stavros’ waist, rubbing his erection against all that hardness. All that heat. Fingers clawed at him, stripping away skin, digging deeper than bone.

Stavros panted into his mouth, laving, lashing at him. Always his kisses brought a desperation, a hunger Daniel felt in his gut. He’d never outrun it, and he didn’t want to.

He wanted this moment, shoving a hand under the waistband of Stavros’ shorts, cupping an ass cheek.

Squeezing.

Tasting that shredded groan. Feeling the tremors. Ready for the earthquake.

He’d walk away from everything to have this every single day. Stavros’ arms tight around him, constricting, but still freeing. His mouth, destroying Daniel with all that wet. Drowning him. Rescuing.

His life in Stavros’ hands.

His pleasure, too.

His pain.

All of it.

He tore his mouth from Stavros’, grabbing him by the chin, making sure to dig in and smirk when Stavros shivered. “I need something for the pain, diablo.” Forgot however he was supposed to sound, his voice was a mangled, garbled growl. “I need something like you.”

Stavros exhaled, a punch of hot breath across Daniel’s face.

“I am offering it up.” He didn’t let go of Stavros. Couldn’t. “I want you to take it all. And don’t be gentle.”

Stavros grabbed him by the crotch, and shoved his face into Daniel’s until their noses were smashed together. “Don’t tell me what the fuck to do.” His teeth sank into Daniel’s bottom lip.

No delicate bite.

“I’ll touch you however I want. I’ll definitely fuck you however I want.”

Daniel threw his head back, bucking into the commanding grip on his shaft. In all ways he loved Stavros. Especially in their bed. Fast or slow. Hard or soft. Gentle.

Or this.

The scary cold look in his eyes. The intent to wreak havoc on his face.

Daniel loved it.

Tonight he wanted that havoc, in whatever form it took.

“Come.” Stavros pulled away suddenly, but held Daniel’s hand. “Come with me.”

“Yes.” Wherever. Whenever. He had no qualms about following his lover.

Lips curved into a smile, Stavros turned and led them back into the bedroom. The white sheets were rumpled, the light from one of the bedside lamps casting the right amount of glow.

Releasing Daniel’s hand, Stavros motioned to his sleep pants. “Take them off.”

He did. Two seconds flat.

Then he stood before his lover in just his skin.

Stavros touched his chest, his torso. “You’re always so hot,” he murmured, eyelids lowered. “I love your skin.”

When he cupped Daniel’s already aching shaft, he inhaled sharply. “Diablo—”

“Knees.” Stavros’ lashes lifted, alight with the hottest kind of hunger. “Now.”

Again. Two seconds flat. And he didn’t even mind that look in Stavros’ eyes that acknowledged Daniel’s eagerness to be here, carpet burning his knees, muscles aching as he looked up, licking his lips.

Waiting.

The silence blazed hot. Charged. Stavros looking down at him, the cold calculated look from before long gone, melted off by the heat and love and appreciation that crowded his eyes now. And Daniel…

Waiting.

Until he couldn’t. He leaned forward, wrapping both arms around Stavros’ lean hips as he pressed his face to his shorts-covered groin and inhaled.

Shuddering.

Because that intoxicating smell of lust and hunger would never not hit him upside the head. That smell, all for him, would never not thicken his throat and send need rippling down his pine.

That smell was his.

It belonged to him. As did Stavros. So Daniel yanked his shorts down his hips, taking his slick erection into his mouth before said shorts hit Stavros’ ankles.

“Fuck.” Stavros cupped his nape, holding Daniel to him, forcing him to take more. “Fuck.”

He’d wouldn’t be winning any prizes at a contest for this, but he liked it. The taste was everything Stavros, wild, crazy good. Daniel thirsted for more. So he drank, swallowing him down as best he could. One hand grasping him at the base as he took him in and out.

Up and down.

“Fuck, agápi mou.” Stavros moved into him, shallow thrusts as he rose on tiptoes. “Watch me. Watch me fuck that mouth.”

Daniel grunted, immersing himself in giving his lover pleasure. His blood pounded in his ears with every dip and drag of his tongue. Between his legs, he throbbed.

Wanting.

Needing.

Panting, breathing taking a backseat to sucking. Teeth grazing hard enough for Stavros to grab onto his hair and pull, yanking him off.

“Goddamn it.” He trembled against Daniel’s touch. “I’m gonna come for you. Come in your mouth and watch you choke on me.”

Yes.

“But not yet. Not now.” He held himself, brought his crown to Daniel’s lips. “Spit on it.”

Hesitation was nowhere in Daniel’s vocabulary where Stavros was concerned. He followed the command and watched as his saliva made a slow trek down the length of Stavros’ shaft before soaking his knuckles.

“Lick it up.”

He started at the base, tip of his stiffened tongue catching that saliva as he slid up. Up. Then took the flared head into his mouth again.

Sucking. Hollowed cheeks, pulling hard as Stavros swore and thrust harder.

Deeper.

“Shit. Fuck that mouth.” His language got even filthier during sex. “God.” He shoved Daniel’s face into his pubes. “Let me fuck that mouth. Yes.” He made a sound, an inhale with his mouth open, but his teeth clenched. A long, drawn out hiss.

Both hands flat against his ass, Daniel encouraged him to thrust. To do what he wanted. Stavros took that direction, hips surging forward to bury himself deep.

Breath locked off.

Eyes watered.

His entire body tensed.

But Daniel kept his wet eyes open, on Stavros. Eager for more. Taking whatever Stavros gave. Loving it. He was surrounded by him. In his throat. His mouth. His nostrils. Stavros was everywhere.

As he should be.

One thrust and he was gagging, throat rebelling. Choking. But Stavros held him still, fistful of hair in his grip. Eyes glittering as he stared down at Daniel. Plunging in and out.

Hard.

Fucking his mouth. Using him. Hands on Stavros’ flexing ass, Daniel met him thrust for thrust. He dangled on the edge, Stavros’ control of his body and his pleasure a potent turn on. He throbbed everywhere, the need to explode sitting heavy and hot at the base of his spine. Still, he pushed it aside. Too enamored with the cock in his mouth and the brutal fingers in his hair.

His knees protested the prolonged kneeling session, his balls too, but Daniel stayed right there, letting Stavros pound his mouth.

Until his lover pulled out. Saliva dripped down Daniel’s chin as he watched Stavros sit at the edge of the bed and stroke himself.

“Crawl to it.”