If he thought fucking her would help get her off his mind, Synek was shit out of luck.

When he closed his eyes, he still saw her face. And even during the dead of night when he still couldn’t fucking sleep, he could hear her—the whisper of his name, the hushed pleas for more.

He didn’t have to worry about nightmares plaguing him when the only thing he could think of was her.

But he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Figuring there was no point in lying there any longer with a hard cock and a restless brain, Synek grabbed a shower instead, waiting until he had himself under some semblance of control before he stepped out and dried off.

He might not have thought so thirty minutes ago, but now, he felt surprisingly steady on his feet and without the baggage that was usually weighing him down.

For once, his thoughts were at ease.

As he entered the kitchen from the back staircase, his gaze was immediately drawn over to the living room. The table was still where he’d kicked it out of the way, and he could almost feel the friction of the carpet on his knees as he remembered the night he spent with Iris.

Fucking hell.

He needed to get his shit together.

Walking over to the cabinet, he rifled through the assorted offerings until he found a box of tea, then he went in search of a mug and kettle. He couldn’t have been in there more than a handful of minutes before he heard Iris’s door opening and the accompaniment of footsteps.

He could still remember the look on her face when he’d left her—surprised and a little hurt.

That was what he’d wanted, though—her pain. For her to feel a tenth of what he had while locked in that room. At least, that had been the plan.

But walking away had only managed to annoy him because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

The moment she was in the kitchen, he expected her to lash out, hand him his arse for the way he’d treated her—and maybe a small part of him was looking forward to that—but she didn’t, not even when he turned to look at her.

The silent treatment, was it? He’d been prepared to tell her that wouldn’t work on him, but he was too busy ogling her to even formulate a response. From the tiny shorts showcasing mile-long legs to the sports bra she wore that he was already having fantasies of cutting off.

Her hair was in two thick braids, and judging from the trainers on her feet and the slightly frazzled state of her, she had gone off for a jog. He hadn’t even heard her leave.

“Are you completely mental?” he asked, the first to break the silence.

She might not have snapped at him the moment she saw him, but it was obvious she was pissed at him from the way her face turned to stone as she regarded him. Iris didn’t even give him a response to his question, merely arched a brow as if she was willing to tolerate his conversation for as long as she had to.

“You think the Wraiths won’t have eyes out searching for you?” he asked, “While you’re off jogging about. Do you want them to find you?”

With one hand on her shapely hip—a hip he was itching to dig his fingers back into—she regarded him lazily. “I take it you’ve never been here.”

Nothing.

No anger colored her tone.

No inflection that might have made him think she was still upset.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“If you had, you would know there’s a gym a floor below this one. You know, where you can run on a treadmill in private?”

Now there was a bit of resentment in her tone, and despite himself, Synek smiled, the expression made all the broader when a flash of anger crossed her face. She’d kept the mask on longer than he would have been able to manage.

But, at least, she wasn’t out where anyone could spot her. “Tea?” he asked, holding up the empty mug in his hand for her to see.

“I’m assuming you have something else planned for today?” she asked, ignoring his question outright.

“You’re not going to ask about last night?” he replied, if only so he could see her react. He’d much rather have her taunting him, furious with him, or something other than … this.

“I prefer not to dwell on my mistakes.”

“Is that how you think of it? As a mistake?”

“You’re the mistake, Synek. All of you. Last night was a lapse in judgment, and it won’t happen again.”

He saw the moment she regretted her outburst, but it was too late for her to take it back. “How sure are we on that never because I’d hate to make a liar out of you.”

“I’m done with this conversation.”

“I’m not.”

“Why not? You got what you wanted right? Why can’t we leave it at that?”

Because one night had not nearly been enough.

He wanted more. Craved it like an addict.

“It was a mistake.”

She deflated, and maybe it was wishful thinking on his part that had him seeing the disappointment on her face. “Well, I said—”

“To walk away,” he finished before she could continue.

Iris swallowed, looking away from him. “It was a moment. Even if … even if it could have been something else, this could never work.”

Before he could respond, Synek’s phone rang, the sound making them both glance at the offending device. He had a mind not to answer it—let it go to voicemail at the very least—but seeing the blank screen where a name or phone number was supposed to be told him that he didn’t have a choice.

He had to answer.

“This isn’t finished,” he told her before grabbing it.

“Yes,” she said as she turned to walk away. “It is.”

* * *

Fucking Kingmaker.

Nothing annoyed him more than being summoned like a well-trained dog, especially if he was in the middle of something else he found more important.

It instinctively made him want to fight back and make it clear he was no longer anyone’s pet. The feeling was only made worse because it was Iris he’d been in the middle of something with when the Kingmaker decided to pull his fucking rank and drag his arse in.

Synek had only been waiting a few minutes before a chauffeured car pulled into the parking lot.

“This better be the single most important conversation of your life, mate,” Synek told his handler as he stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut.

The Kingmaker rarely tolerated disrespect in any way, but he merely arched a brow at Synek’s remark. “You haven’t been answering my calls.”

“Got a bit tied up,” he answered simply.

“I’m assuming you’re here for Spader?” he asked. “That is what I’m paying you for—not to entertain the Wraiths and a bounty hunter.”

Before, Synek had wondered how the man could possibly know all he did about everyone else when it was impossible for him to be in multiple places at once. He’d even suspected that Winter was relaying information back to him, even knowing it would piss him off, but that thought had lasted only so long as it took for him to realize it wasn’t just his business that the Kingmaker knew.

He knew everyone’s.

It went beyond having cameras everywhere and his finger on the pulse of everything happening around him—the Kingmaker didn’t allow anything to go on without his knowledge. Whether it be the mercenaries who worked for him, or the targets he looked into before sending them out on jobs.

Then again, he couldn’t be in his position if he didn’t have dirt on everyone he came into contact with.

“Are you going to watch me fuck too?” Synek asked, folding his arms across his chest. “I charge extra for that.”

His attempt at getting a rise out of the man was met with a blank stare. “I had Winter look into her long before I knew you’d developed an interest in her.”

“I don’t—”

“Why else would you be standing here avoiding the conversation I clearly want to have?”

Synek lost his good humor. “She’s none of your business.”

The Kingmaker studied him. “You came with your distraction—I didn’t think you’d find another one.”

“I don’t like to repeat myself. Besides, she’s not a distraction.” He just didn’t know what she was exactly.

“Then do your job. Because by the looks of it, she knows more about the governor than you do, considering the amount of surveillance she does on him.”

“We made an arrangement,” he said, steering as close to the truth as possible. “But before I can get to your governor, I have to take care of my Wraiths problem.”

“I’d always warned you they’d be back for their pound of flesh. You should have taken care of them then.”

That had been the original plan, after he’d left the bar that night with Winter in tow. Once he’d met the Kingmaker at the prearranged location, he agreed to the man’s terms without ever hearing them. His only concern had been safety for Winter and himself.

He hadn’t known that “training,” meant being locked in a dark room for days at a time, feeling like the walls were closing in around him. He hadn’t understood that despite the years since he’d spent his childhood days being beaten in his bedroom when the lights went out, he still hadn’t kicked his fear of the dark.

Plunged back into it, he hadn’t responded well when those lights came back on and the door was finally open.

He had only known that he didn’t want it to happen again.

Synek couldn’t remember what happened after, and the next time he was aware of his surroundings, he’d been told he had killed a man and injured more than a dozen others before another mercenary by the name of Skorpion had to restrain him himself.

That was the day he made the decision to avoid the Wraiths at all cost. He wanted to avoid reminders of his past that would send him into a rage.

He wanted to forget everything about that time, so he had.

Convinced himself that no problem would ever present itself if he went back to London and stayed there.

He didn’t want to admit the Kingmaker was right. He should have handled them then.

“If they want it, they’ll have to fight me for it.” And he wouldn’t fight clean at all.

The Kingmaker nodded. “Finish this. We’re on a deadline.”

The man had never been specific about what he was coming, nor when, only that he had a feeling whatever was going to happen would do so soon.

“Belladonna has a direct hand in this, and once Spader is out of the equation, I’ll have her.”

And she was the only one he truly seemed concerned about.

Synek wondered what the story was there.

“If we’re done,” Synek said, glancing down at his watch, “I’ll get back to work.”

The Kingmaker waved him off. “Glad the torture didn’t make you useless.”

Nosiest bastard in the world.

As Synek slipped back into his car and took off, he started in the direction of the brownstone before he thought better of the decision. He needed answers—answers Iris wasn’t yet ready to give him.

But if he wanted to get to the bottom of her, he had to have them, whether she liked it or not.

* * *

Synek had been gone for more than five hours before she heard him come in again—not that she was counting.

Iris waited, expecting to hear him head upstairs, but instead, her door came bursting open moments later. Had she not been annoyed with him—or at least trying to be annoyed with him—she might have laughed at the sight of him kicking off his boots and stripping out of his jacket before he threw his body onto the bed.

“I don’t remember inviting you into my bed,” she commented dryly, peeking at him out the corner of her eye.

She hoped he would get the hint that she wasn’t interested in him staying, but instead, he dragged the cover off her legs, then settled himself between them, resting his face on her thigh, one of his arms around her waist.

“I don’t see you kicking me out of it.”

He couldn’t be serious. “I was thinking you’d voluntarily leave. You’re good at that.”

She could feel his smile. “I can be a dick at times.”

Iris opened her mouth to respond, but she was caught off guard by the confession. She’d thought he would make an excuse. Instead, he did the opposite.

“At least, you’re willing to admit it.” She shrugged. “Where were you all day?” she asked.

“Had a meeting with my handler, then I needed to get something sorted.”

“Do you like it?”

“What’s that?”

“Being a mercenary.”

“It has its days,” he answered earnestly. “Couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else, to be honest. This is what I’m good at.”

Iris frowned. “There’s more to you than what you can do with a knife, Syn.”

His laughter made her a bit sad. “I don’t know about that, dove.”

“When you’re not working, what do you do?”

“Train.”

Okay, not the answer she was expecting. “When you’re not doing anything related to being a mercenary …”

“I drink.”

As sad as that answer made her, she understood it all too well.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had done something other than working for Rosalie and gathering information on the governor.

Outside of that, she lived as a ghost.

He’d said before that they were alike. She was just starting to realize how much.

“That’s the problem. You need something other than a vice.”

“And you?” he asked.

She glanced away. “What about me?”

“What do you have outside of your plans for the governor?”

She had … nothing, she realized a moment later.

There wasn’t anything beyond that because that was the only thing she could focus on. Every decision she had ever made since the day she left that courthouse had served her vendetta and nothing more.

She hadn’t given herself a chance to even consider having a life outside of that.

Why should she?

Her father was rotting away inside a prison cell, and she was the only hope he had of getting out of there.

“It’s the only thing I want,” she said softly, coiling a strand of his hair around her fingers.

For such a hard man, he had the softest hair—a deep shade of brown and slightly wavy.

“How d’you know it’s the governor who’s responsible for your dad?”

“All roads lead back to him. That much I could find. Why he had to frame him, I don’t know.”

That was the last piece of the puzzle she hadn’t quite figured out yet. Because as it stood, none of it made any sense.

The man her father had been searching for was small time at best. He was the person police arrested because they wanted whoever his boss was. It wouldn’t make sense that someone as high powered as the governor would lend him his aid without a good reason.

She just had to find it.

Sifting her fingers through his hair, she asked, “What did Winter tell you?”

“Not a lot,” he answered without hesitation.

She thought he’d avoid the question. “That was the deal I made, you know. She offered me a file in exchange for a location.”

Iris didn’t know why she was telling him something he already knew—only that it felt like the right thing to do. He was so comfortable around her, even now and though she enjoyed his company—far more than she should—this feeling, this interest, he had in her … it wouldn’t last.

Synek sighed before lifting up, using the arm he already had around her waist to pull her down the bed until she was mostly under him, his thigh between hers.

“Rocket, d’you remember him?”

Iris nodded, picturing the man’s face.

He was older, closer to Synek’s age, and though he had already been gone by the time Iris came around, she still remembered the stories about him. He’d been nicer than the others. Didn’t treat the girls like pieces of meat and stayed clear of the drugs.

The wrong kind of man to join up with the Wraiths.

“Somebody would’ve told you the story about what happened to him,” Synek said, and now it was his turn to reach up and coil her hair around his finger.

He looked mesmerized.

“He was one of the first,” Iris responded, trying not to pay attention to just how close they were. If she moved even an inch, his leg would be pressed right up against her. “To betray the Wraiths, they said.”

“Did they tell you what he did to betray them?”

“No, they never mentioned that.”

The only thing they had wanted to tell was just how swift and severe his punishment had been.

“There was this paramedic who looked out for the boys whenever she could, but one day when one of them paid her a visit in the hospital, he got a little handsy and she called security on him. He got locked up. He was a ranking member, had his tags and all, so he wanted his due against her. Called Johnny and practically demanded it.” Synek drew in a breath before letting it out again. “Johnny sends Rocky round to her flat to pay her a visit—he was even paid twenty-grand to do the job—but instead of killing her, he told her to take off and never come back to the city.”

“Did she leave?”

Synek nodded. “Soon as he left. The only problem was that it hadn’t just been Rocket who took off on that job. Rosalie had put a tail on him just to make sure he actually went through with it. I’m sure you can guess how that ended.”

With a bullet in his head and his body never found.

“What I’m saying is, you didn’t have to do what you did. You didn’t have to shoot Rosalie to buy Winter and them time to get to me. You could’ve let me die and let them find the body. Anyone else would have. But that’s not who you are?”

His voice had softened somewhere in the middle of that, and with the way he was staring at her, his expression open and earnest, she realized now how much what she had done meant to him.

“You saved her life when you didn’t have to,” she whispered, still staring into his eyes. “Maybe it was your turn.”

If she asked herself later who initiated the kiss, she couldn’t say for sure, but all she knew was that seconds after the words were out of her mouth, his lips were on hers, and she was reminded why she hadn’t kicked him out of her bed as soon as he’d come in here.

She liked him where he was.

“You said one night,” she whispered against his lips, even as her own fingers drifted down the front of his chest, sliding over the dips and contours of his abdomen until she reached the top of his jeans.

“I’m willing to negotiate.”

She was laughing even before he finished. “I’m listening.”

Synek’s form of negotiating was skimming his lips along her collarbone until he reached the hollow of her throat.

Her earlier anger with him forgotten as she started tugging at his shirt, wanting to take it off him.

He acquiesced after a moment, lifting his arms to help her get it off. She didn't think she would ever get used to him—not the scars or the sheer masculinity that held her attention and wouldn’t let go.

“Three minutes,” he said pulling at the strings of her shorts.

A breathless laugh left her. “You only need three minutes?”

“I only need three to make you come. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll make you tap out.”

Those words made her restless. “If you don’t?”

His grin said he had no intention of losing. “When I do, I want something.”

He gripped the waistband of her shorts and dragged them down her body, shifting just far enough that he could get them off completely.

“What?” What could he possibly want that she had left to give?

“When this is done,” he said, brushing his thumb down the length of her panties, “you’ll give me a chance.”

“A chance to what?” she asked, her treacherous heart leaping at the thought of what he might ask.

“To keep you.”

She hid a smile behind her hand. “You’re using sex to get me to go on a date with you?”

“Yes,” he answered.

No hesitation.

No laughter.

He was serious.

And worse, she wanted him to be. “You have a deal, but this had better be the best three minutes of your life.”

“It’ll definitely be yours.”

He punctuated the words by pushing her panties to the side, smoothing his fingers over her a moment before he pulled the flimsy fabric away entirely.

The brush of his lips against her jaw made her turn to him even as her legs spread open for his hand.

Synek kissed like he fucked—hard and hungry.

She was almost sure he could just do this, and he’d win their bet.

Every muscle in her body went tense as he worked her, and worse, he wasn’t actually rubbing her clit at all, but rather resting his thumb right there, his fingers buried deep inside her. It was because she squirmed, trying to force more of him inside her that she was rubbing herself against him.

She couldn’t even bring herself to feel embarrassed at how needy she was being—it was too good to care.

“I think I could make you come just from fucking you like this,” he whispered in her ear, the pleased note making her hands clench the sheets tighter. “Look at the clock.”

Her eyes cracked open, looking over to the side at the illuminated display. No more than a minute had passed, and she could already feel her orgasm building—that irresistible feat almost too much to bear.

And as a tremor worked through her, he started fucking her faster and harder with those two maddening fingers, dragging a helpless moan from her.

The blood was racing so loud in her ears that she almost didn’t hear the dirty things he whispered in her ear.

That he wanted her to beg for his cock.

That he wouldn’t stop until she came all over his hand.

But it was when he gripped her face in his hands and turned her to face him that it became too much.

His gaze fixed on her so intently, unwavering and possessive, and he spoke in a language she didn’t understand, but there was no mistaking the look in his eyes.

Like he owned her and always would.

Just the thought had her falling over the edge, her orgasm slamming into her so hard it took her breath away.

Iris hardly had a chance to catch her breath before he flipped her onto her stomach, dragging her up onto her knees, her face in the pillow. Need thrummed inside her, too potent to ignore. Her body felt like a live wire, ready to combust if he would just touch her.

But he didn’t.

Not yet.

Through the mirror across the room, she watched him as he stared at her sex, his fist moving lazily up and down his cock.

In the years since she had last been with a man, Iris had never considered herself sexually frustrated. But right now, with Synek, she was dangerously close to begging.

Without warning, he smacked her ass, the sound harsher than the actual hit.

“I’ve thought about this a dozen different ways,” he said in a heated whisper, the fingers of his free hand sliding up her inner thigh until his knuckles grazed her bare sex.

The feeling, light and barely there still managed to make her shiver.

“But the reality is better.”

He pressed two fingers back into her achingly slow, using the heel of his palm to rub against her clit, and even as she moaned, she shifted, trying to get away from the intense pleasure pulsing over that sweet spot where he was rubbing.

But he was as impatient as she felt, pulling them free and drawing her back deeper into the cradle of his hips.

He rubbed his length nice and slow against her before he found that waiting notch and kicked his hips forward, burying his cock deep in her in one stroke.

Whatever little control he’d had over himself snapped as he started to fuck her with abandon. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t take it easy the way he had the first time.

No, this time he fucked her like he had something to prove.

And before long, she was rocking back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

His hand came up beneath her, searing hot against her skin before he was pushing two fingers into her mouth. As she sucked them, his thrusts became harsher, his rhythm nearly brutal, but she loved every second of it.

The way his fingers dug painfully into her hip.

How his teeth had sunk into her shoulder and she knew there would be another bruise tomorrow.

And when he spit out a curse before groaning her name, she was sure she could get addicted to this.

* * *

Iris wasn’t sure what woke her, but as she gradually blinked open her eyes, the only thing she could see was darkness.

Rolling over, she rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening around her.

After a moment, she heard the rumble of thunder and the heavy fall of rain before she realized what was wrong.

It was pitch black in the room.

She couldn’t remember whether she’d turned off any lights before finally passing out after hours spent in this bed with Synek, and she doubted he would have done so either.

Must have been the storm.

Figuring it was the rain that had woken her, Iris turned back to Synek, but it was then that she realized what was wrong.

He was shifting on the bed. His eyes were still closed, but the restless noises he was making made her wonder if he was having a nightmare.

“Syn,” she called his name, touching his shoulder. “Wake up.”

He flinched, even in his sleep as her fingers brushed over his chest, and that was enough to draw her hand back.

But her touch had managed to waken him, his eyes going wide, and then she saw the moment when she wished he still slept.

Because the look on his face, as it shifted from panic to fear to something dark, made her heart trip over itself.

“Syn—”

Iris yelped as he lunged for her, scrambling off the bed, hitting the floor hard, but barely feeling the pain as she moved away as quickly as she could. But as she thought of fleeing, his expression stopped her.

His pain was visceral, and if she ignored the muscle and capable skill she knew he possessed, he wasn’t a monster—he was just afraid of the dark.

Memories of what he’d told her about his mother sprang into her mind, about the things she had done to him when he wasn’t capable of defending himself. It hadn’t just been her, but his brothers too.

His family.

They’d tormented him for years until he’d lashed out, and God, she could only imagine what they’d done.

Iris couldn’t run away from his pain just because it terrified her. He had suffered worse.

“Syn.”

He lashed out, ripping the lamp from the wall and threw it with unimaginable strength until it broke into two pieces against the wall. She flinched. She held her breath as she remained exactly where she was.

But she didn’t leave.

“Syn, it’s me. You’re not in London anymore.”

He didn’t seem to hear her as he made pained sounds in the back of his throat.

Dragging in a shaky breath, she stepped toward him, hearing her own heartbeat echo in her ears. She wished she wasn’t afraid, that she didn’t wish she could just escape out of the room before he hurt her.

But her concern for him outweighed her fear for her own safety.

She now understood why there were always so many lights on, even when he wasn’t in the room. She’d just thought he’d forgotten to turn them off—or was just trying to annoy her when she turned them all off after him.

But this … this was so much worse.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, taking a tentative step toward him. “It’s just us.”

Once she was close enough to wrap her arms around him, she was careful. Not moving too fast. Making sure he saw that she wouldn’t hurt him in any way.

Before she could touch him, he reached for her in return, his hands coming up to rest on either side of her face—like he needed to remind himself that it was her in front of him and no one else.

He slid them down after a moment. Over shoulders, down her waist until they settled on the flare of her hips.

“It’s okay,” she said again, holding his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

His grip loosened ever so slightly.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispered, relief flooding her when the tension in him started to ease, though it didn’t fade entirely.

Nothing in the world was more important to her than family, but she could have killed his mother for what she’d done to him.

Finally, after several seconds, he sank onto the edge of the bed, but he instead of letting her go, he wrapped his arms around her middle and dragged her into his lap. His head rested in the crook of her shoulder, his heart beating wildly beneath her palms.

But she stayed where she was.

And by the time the power came back and the lights flickered on, she wasn’t sure who was comforting who.