All the air left my shaking lungs as the words escaped my lips—and it felt shameful and powerful and so so so wrong.
Beau’s features hardened at my voice and I knew it had wavered. I could feel the violent crimson climbing up my chest to my neck, all across my face, but I didn’t look away.
“On your knees,” he said—in that rough, husky voice that stirred the impatient need low in my stomach and pulsed between my legs.
I hesitated for a second, watching the dark swirls in his eyes undress me. I bent in front of him, my bare knees touching the hardwood floors, never looking away, never bowing my head, but my body trembled for him. I knew my nipples had hardened, and he could see them through the white fabric of my tight t-shirt.
He watched me in molten silence, and I let myself examine the features of a cursed man. His haunting eyes, his cruel mouth—so full and soft and misleading.
His chest heaved violently, and I eyed the ugly wound at his side. My mouth opened to speak, but his inked fingers clasped my chin in a harsh grip, forcing me to meet his gaze again.
“Is that what you truly want? Me to use you like a toy? Like an incubi would use a souleater?”
My lips trembled at his cruel, vicious words. But my body leaned in closer, my fingers finding balance across the inside of his thighs, spread apart to make room for me.
All his anger—his hatred—his emotions filled the air and it was like a poison I’d tasted and couldn’t help but want more of. I knew I was tiptoeing on a dangerous line. A deadly edge for a souleater. I was giving into the high of the Pit—and ultimately the high of Beau Knight.
If I let him use me, if I had another taste of him, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
I’d been warned many times in the past by other souleaters I’d met along the way. They’d told me to never let my soul attach itself to another because it was incredibly dangerous for the souleater. They became utterly dependent on the soul they’d attached themselves to. It was toxic.
And I wondered if that was what I was feeling for Beau’s soul.
His soul sung to mine—two damaged souls aching for another to soothe our darkness.
“I’ve never felt like this.” The words tasted far too light on my tongue, like I was already high off of him. I rested my cheek against his fingers and he cupped my face.
Those beautiful dark, heavy brows creased in confusion. “Like what?”
I didn’t know how to describe it to him. That his emotions were too powerful, too addictive that I wanted to swallow each word he said and soak in his darkness.
I straightened, my fingers ghosting over his until I reached his inked thumb, dragging it to my mouth.
I watched him under my lashes as I widened my mouth—only slightly so his thumb disappeared, and I sucked lightly.
All the muscles tensed and bulged in his body and his jaw locked under his clench, eyeing me like a hungry beast.
I sucked once again—and that sparked him.
His other hand jerked forward, and he gripped the back of my neck, tangling his fingers in my dark hair and yanked me forward. “Tell me, Alexandra,” his harsh breathing battled on my mouth and he slowly removed his thumb from my mouth, only to spread the bottom lip open. “Tell me how I make you feel.”
“Like an angel about to sin,” I whispered. “But I’m no angel.”
Beau growled deeply in his throat and like the hungry animal caged inside of him, he struck, his mouth colliding with mine in a bruising kiss of lust and anger and power.
He yanked me in-between his steel thighs and trapped me there. But I wanted to be there—caged by a god sent to ruin me in the best ways possible.
He growled, low and dark and everything that made me ache for him so badly. He was vicious and violent in his approach—as if still in the midst of a fight. Still trying to destroy his fiercest opponent. In that moment, it was me. I was his enemy.
The sinner devoured me like I was the last sin he’d get to commit.
“Fuck,” he hissed against my mouth, breathing out harshly. He glanced down at his side and I followed to see the knife wound had closed and was now slowly fading.
It was working. Beau was healing. He would be okay.
“Should…should we stop?” I asked, my voice hushed, afraid he’d actually hear me.
His eyes—now dark and molten clashed with mine.
“I’m not done using you,” he said, lowly.
His powerful hands ran down my sides and grabbed my backside, lifting me up—a gasp escaping my mouth.
He ate it, not allowing me to breathe without tasting him on my tongue.
He carried me, away from the lounge area and onto the tiled floor. Steam rolled over our heads, clouding my vision. Voices of men echoed against the walls and I bit my lip.
We’re not alone in here.
Beau stopped in front of a dark stall and moved me into the corner, up against the tiled wall.
I gasped at the cool wetness left from a previous shower as it hit my bare shoulders and upper back.
Beau stood in front of me—his eyes tracing over my trembling, aching body. My nipples hardened from the cool air and my arousal, but I didn’t hide from him.
I wanted him to see how he affected me. What he did to my body.
His nostrils flared as I pressed my thighs together.
Men’s laughter echoed again, and I wanted to run.
Beau shifted forward, his muscles bulging under his black t-shirt. My breaths came in quick bursts and I shivered when his body caged me in. Even before his lips touched mine, I tasted his anger, his wrath, his power. So fierce, so intense all the air left my lungs.
“Eat my soul. Drink. Feast from me,” he muttered, his lips brushing across my tight jawline. “Give me that high, cucciola.” The Italian word sat heavy on his tongue, his Italian heritage rearing its head.
He offered me his full mouth—a saint’s mouth attached to a sinister body.
I pressed my mouth to his upper lip and sucked—slowly, gently—until I nipped.
He growled darkly in warning, his fingers pinching my waist.
“Taste me,” he urged, his left hand wrapping around my neck—not harshly, but firmly. The darkness in his deep eyes told me he enjoyed the idea of me tasting him. “And only me, cucciola.”
My center throbbed at his jealousy, at his possessiveness.
And I caved—pressing my mouth to his in a brutal kiss of surrender and hunger. His tongue parted my lips and he wrestled mine, dominating me. His taste filled my mouth—so rich and dark and frighteningly sweet.
His hands rolled down my back and when he reached my skirt, they slid under the thin fabric and fisted each ass cheek, squeezing. “I could be addicted to the taste of you. That mouth of yours could keep a whole fucking army of incubi alive, but I don’t want it on anybody else, you hear me?”
“Fuck,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulder blades for balance. “Yes—”
His hand clasped over my mouth and my brows dropped to a frown—
“Fucking bastards,” a voice snapped in the room.
“Ignore them. Just forget about them and focus on the tits,” another told him.
My eyes widened in horror and my heart slammed against my ribcage. They were close. So close.
Beau stared back at me—not a sign of fear at the prospect of getting caught showing on his face. He leaned closer, his leg spreading my thighs apart. With his one hand still clenching my ass cheek, he lifted my leg, exposing the front of my panties to him.
His forefinger slid along the curve of my ass and slipped past my panties, touching my wet sex.
I gasped in shock and arousal, and the hand he’d placed over my mouth disappeared.
At first, his fingers ghosted over my opening. “Shaven,” he whispered. “Bare. Tiny.” He then pressed his forefinger deeper and a whimper left my mouth at the pressure. He saw my expression, lips twisting in a dark smile. “That’s just my finger, cucciola.” He stroked deeper and I bit back a cry. “I’ll have to break you before you can take my cock.”
Before I could say anything, his mouth met mine in a brutal kiss.
His finger and tongue began a deadly rhythm—stroking me to a dangerous high. Just the image of his thick inked finger touching me—the sounds of my own pussy, wet and tender—made me moan into his mouth.
And then he added another finger and my nails dug into his forearm—definitely drawing blood through his t-shirt.
Fuck me. I was going to come. I was going to come undone on Beau’s tattooed fingers in a shower stall with deadly fighters two feet away.
I moaned again, and Beau clenched my ass cheek in warning. My chest burnt, my legs ached, and I was so close—so close—the pleasure built in my pelvis and as I moved along with his finger, I felt his hard length on my inner thigh and he moved forward into my movement.
Beau quickened his strokes and I moaned openly into his mouth, earning me another ass squeeze until I lost it.
The pleasure seized me and overwhelmed me—and I collapsed against Beau’s strong body, his finger still stroking the last of my orgasm out of me.
Like he craved every last moment of it.
His finger slipped from my wetness and he dropped my leg, bringing his finger to his own mouth.
I watched in shock as he slid the wet finger into his mouth and licked it, staring down at me with black eyes of pure lust.
My entire body hummed with his power. I felt wide awake, hotwired because of the powerful incubus in front of me.
We listened to the sound of the two guys leaving the room.
Beau Knight had given me an orgasm. He had tasted me—my mouth and my pussy.
“Now tell me what you didn’t bother mentioning last night about Danny. About the files,” he said, a warning tone, one not leaving any room for debate.
I swallowed thickly and nodded, staring at him through my lashes. “I went to search his place. For answers about Dolores.”
Beau’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say a word.
“I took the files…” I paused, bowing my head, afraid he’d see the wetness building.
His gaze was unwavering, and I didn’t like how he watched me. Like he felt my own pain ripping open his chest. Because if he didn’t care about me, it would hurt too much.
“And I’m going to search for Dolores,” I told him, straightening, not backing down. “She wouldn’t give up on me; I won’t give up on her.”
He stared at me in dead silence, his eyes not leaving mine. “You’re not doing this alone, Alexandra.”
I stared at him, the words stuck in the back of my throat.
His jaw clenched, and his gaze dropped, scanning me one last time before he turned, marching out of sight.
Gloomy, dangerous Beau. Tensley protected me far too long from him and now that I had a taste of his danger?
I wanted more.
I wanted all of it.
I wrapped my coat tighter around my middle, trying to ignore the cool November air. It had only been hours ago that I had healed Beau and he’d pushed me into the shower, shattering my world with his inked fingers.
The rest of my shift—everyone was gossiping about the guy bringing a weapon into the ring. Fiona said the guy probably wanted to prove a point. That he could take down Savage—a notorious fighter. As everyone focused on the fight, I focused on what to do next to search for Dolores. I didn’t feel like waiting for Beau and I knew he’d be pissy later at home for leaving without him, but I needed to breathe, I needed to collect my thoughts.
Danny could easily overpower me, saying I stole the files and everything in the files wouldn’t matter. And Beau felt responsible. He felt the need to protect me but that gave power to Danny.
I gritted my teeth.
He had us both in a painful position that I’m sure he loved.
The wind picked up like a cool slap against my cheek. Tiny snowflakes sprinkled in the dark, endless sky above me, drifting all around me.
My spine straightened but I didn’t stop moving. I swore I heard footsteps close by and I scanned my surroundings. The darkened street was one I was familiar with and I knew a cemetery was just around the corner. I had walked through it a few times at night because it was silent and a short-cut to my old place.
I pushed my hair behind my ear, continuing to walk.
Pebbles danced across the ground and I quickened my pace.
Turning the corner, all the air left my lungs at the sight of a man standing right there.
A man I recognized.
“Don’t look so frightened,” he said, laughing lightly.
My heart raced, pounding in my chest.
I heard footsteps behind me and glanced over my shoulder to see three more guys surrounding me.
I didn’t bother offering money.
These men were Danny’s entourage. His bouncers, his colleagues, his hounds.
“Let’s not make this difficult,” the same man said, his thin fingers running through his light hair.
“Difficult?” I laughed it off. These men thought I was weak. Thought I hadn’t lived and survived on the streets of crooks and killers and beasts. I had grown from their dark depth. I had thrived there, just as much as Beau thrived in his own dark pit.
I wasn’t a child. I wasn’t weak. Not anymore.
I straightened and smiled thinly at him. “Tell Danny to fuck off.” I spat in his face and he growled, rushing forward. I ducked, rushing past him. Their shoes thundered on the ground and I didn’t bother looking back. I focused on the cemetery gates ahead and collided with the iron bars.
I didn’t waste a second and used my upper strength to climb up and over the iron gate, glancing down at them following right behind.
I jumped down, my hands shooting out in front of me. I stumbled up and rushed down the darken dirt paths, in-between the gravestones and trees.
All I could hear was my breathing and their distant voices.
“Bitch!” one shouted. “How do you feel about a trip to diamonds?”
I slid behind a large tombstone and gripped my shirt, slightly leaning forward to see them wandering, searching for me. Diamonds? I froze. It sounded familiar. Like…I had been there. The word tossed around faintly in my mind. The hunters…
I jerked back, cupping my mouth. I couldn’t risk being heard. I tried to quiet my breathing and think.
I looked up to see a cross farther in the distance above the dark green trees. A church. I checked again behind me and then took one deep breath.
I pushed off, racing toward that one beacon of hope. Their voices called to me, threatened me, but I kept running.
I always ran and I never stopped.
The tiny chapel grew closer and closer, appearing between the trees and I rushed down the tiny hill and collided with the stone.
I yanked at the door, praying, begging it to open and laughed like an idiot when it did.
I snuck inside, making sure to shut the door quietly and eyed the ruined chapel. Most of the stained glass was broken and scattered across the pews and stone floor. An altar still stood at the end of the aisle and the statue of Jesus Christ crucified was attached to the wall behind it.
My body jerked at the sound of their hollers calling to me.
I tiptoed farther in and slid behind a pew, bending low and closing my eyes.
I waited in the darkness, hoping they’d leave. Hoping they’d believe I moved on and left the cemetery.
The hollers ended, and I opened my eyes, my body relaxing.
Then I heard a door open.
My heart clenched, and I leaned farther back.
A single set of heavy footsteps thundered in the chapel.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I dug my nails into my palms and held my breath.
The closer they got, the more my heart sped. I needed to leave. I needed to escape.
They stopped at the other end of the pew and I froze.
Then their footsteps marched down the pew toward me. So close. So close to seeing me.
Three steps away.
Two steps away.
One step away.
I sprung up, rushing to the door, but an arm wrapped around my middle and dragged me back.
“No!” I thrashed, fighting against them as they pulled me farther into the chapel.
I kicked, elbowing the man in the gut.
And then he spun me and pressed me against the altar.
My eyes caught the sight of the last man I expected to see here.
“Beau?”