NEFARIOUS: B723 SERIES BOOK THREE, page 53
I actually have to think back to that question for a moment before replying, “I think it was today. I had a few bites of a sandwich.”
“Do you want something to drink?” His features soften, and my stomach knots about it.
You deserve none of this.
Not him.
His kindness.
His mercy for what you wanted to do.
Everything.
“No, I’m okay, thanks.” Mills’s fingers brush mine, but he doesn’t hold them.
He just wants to let me know that he wants to. That he desires to hold me because it’s been days without him, and each one feels like an eternity.
But I would never allow him to go through this. To pretend to care about people who changed his life, whether for the better or worse. To plan their funerals because I needed him.
“I’ll give you time, Amirah, to get past this. However, like I said, we’re not done talking about it. And if you don’t think I’m not going to fight for us, you’re dead wrong. I’m an annoying ass prick when I want something.”
I open my mouth, but he presses a soft kiss to my forehead, letting it linger there for a second longer before pulling from me.
“See you tomorrow.”
It’s been three days since I saw Amirah at the funeral home, and each passing minute is agony. I don’t want to push myself on her because she’s grieving. I don’t want to cause any more stress because she’s burying her family and worried about her father.
I don’t want her to hate me forever.
I’d shown up at the funeral home with the intention of being there in case Solange showed up. To keep her safe in case anyone tried to start some shit.
In case she needed me.
I let her see me once before she’d go on to speak with people paying their respects. I’d wave at her when I made it look like I left, but I never did.
I stayed.
I remained in the parlor and followed her home because I needed to make sure she was okay.
To my help and dismay, Kyson stayed in New York to help keep tabs. I told him to get lost and to unkindly fuck off. I didn’t want him near me but being the mellow, level-headed dickhead that he was, he didn’t listen.
All he did was stare at me and nod. Even when I punched him in the face to try to get him to go on his merry fucking way.
Emmy has constantly been calling and texting. I blocked her numbers yesterday.
Bishop started up on his shit, claiming that his wife was upset and I needed to clear the air. My ass blocked his ass too.
I’m not obligated to do anything when they made a move that did and might forever change my life. When they did something that no one could take back.
My girl was mourning, alone, and lost in thoughts that I can’t help ease or reverse.
However, the need to see her was too much for me to fully respect her space. I needed her like I required air to breathe and her face and touch was the only thing to calm me.
So I did what I used to do and broke into her penthouse. She was sleeping, cuddled into a ball that I wanted to place in my arms but refrained. I went to the large patio deck overlooking the city and smoked a blunt.
Then smoked another.
By the time colors mixed in and my head was almost quite literally in the clouds with how high up I was, my feet dangling from the edge of the cement wall made it look like I was standing on everything.
Like some Godzilla shit.
But even on a high, I still heard her voice through everything. The occasional horn below from a car and the loud, eerie silence of the height I was currently at.
“What are you doing here?” Glimpsing over my shoulder, Amirah stood in a white tank top and gray sweatpants.
My fucking sweatpants.
Just her still wanting to wear my shit has my cock rising to attention as I carefully swing my body to jump down.
“I needed to see if you were alright,” I claim, hitting the concrete ground and immediately striding in her direction.
She doesn’t move, crossing her arms along her chest and eyeing me with fatigue. Her copper hair casually cascades down her shoulder. Her illuminated green eyes lock me in.
They’ve locked me in for forever because I can’t leave her. I’ll never be able to abandon Amirah because I am head over heels, completely fucked in every way in love with her.
“Rus,” I croak out, feeling the anxiety I’ve felt for days begin to rear its ugly head again through my high. “I fucking love you. I miss you. I’m sorry for everything that happened. I—“
“Stop.” She averts her gaze and rubs her biceps against the cool night air. “C’mon inside. You’re going to get sick or fall over that ledge if you stay out here.”
“Wouldn’t fall over because that means I’d have to haunt you just to be with you. It wouldn’t work out for us.”
She eyes me, a little exasperated, but I think I see a small glint of a smile grace her lips before it fades.
Pivoting on her bare feet, she walks inside and goes to the fridge for a water. When she turns back to face me, I’m already there in her personal bubble.
I’m fucking titter-tottering on losing my whole shit.
I know she’s mad at me, but I need her.
“Come back to me,” I plead through a muttered rasp. “I want us again.”
“Drink the water,” she orders, holding up the plastic bottle for me to take. “Then we’ll talk…if we have to.”
She rounds my body as I pluck the drink from her hand. With her back to me, she rubs at her temples and plops down on the large sectional, clearly over the last few days.
Cracking the lid to make it look like I give a shit about a drink of water, I trail to the couch and sit close enough to her to where if she tries to get up and walk away, I can grab her.
I think.
The shit I got from Kyson is some shit. I don’t know what the hell or where the hell he got it, but it’s some different sort of cannabis that’s kinda knocking me on my ass right now.
I bet it’s to knock me out to go to fucking sleep, the prick.
Amirah turns to look at me, swiveling her head that’s laid on the back of the couch cushions and blinks. “You look like crap.”
“And you look beautiful.”
She turns back to look ahead of her. “I’m tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“If you promise.” She gives a curt nod but doesn’t look at me again. “Come here, Rus.”
She does, and I curl myself to her back, sandwiched between her warm body and the couch. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I feel a heavy exhale leave her body.
“You’re not alone,” I tell her. “I’m always here.”
“I know. I just don’t deserve you.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, Rus.”
She doesn’t respond. She just settles into slumber, and so do I. For the first time in days.
* * *
I wake up to soft kisses pressed gingerly along my jawline. Then a small hand cupping my semi-hard dick, causing me to groan out in need of being relieved.
The smell of Amirah fills my nostrils, and I crack my eyes open to see her copper hair before her tongue dips out to slash across the middle column of my throat.
I cup her face, bringing her attention to my being awake and to where I can see her. The ceiling to floor windows allow the moonlight to shine in our space. I can see her eyes dusted with sleep, but I know what she wants.
And I crave it too.
My lips slowly meet hers as I feel the steady breaths off her chest. When she rubs my cock again, I start at the waistband of her sweatpants and panties, yanking them down her curvy hips. My tongue laces with hers, slow and sleepily deliberate as I mock her actions, sliding my fingers down the apex of her thighs and finding her wet for me.
“You’re mine,” I sluggishly utter; however, my head is clear.
It’s always been clear when it comes to her and me. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I do the woman next to me. And I will do everything in my power to keep her with me.
“Whatever bullshit you got floating around in your head, Amirah, lose it.”
“We can’t keep doing this. I can’t be—“
“You can be whatever it is you wanna be, baby. I’m right here. I want you. I need you.” I insert my middle finger inside her tight warmth. “Stop fighting this.”
“They killed them.”
They—B723.
I still haven’t fully forgiven my brothers and sisters for what they did, but I understand why. I would’ve made the call, too and it would’ve landed right where I was at. If Emmy and Bishop would’ve fallen in the same predicament, I would’ve pulled the trigger before my answer would’ve left my mouth. With Marty and Stormi, I’d do that. I didn’t care who the other people were in the room or if we were supposed to spare them. The decision was clear.
Everyone came out alive.
Everyone I cared about would never leave this world or out of my life.
An animalism need to save your loved ones blinds the feelings of anyone else. I couldn’t make the call; they did it for me. Amirah just has to see that her life is now more open to possibilities because she doesn’t have to turn around every two seconds to see if someone is going to hurt her.
And with me standing at her side, no one will.
“And you’re free,” I reply back, kissing her cheek softly. “They can’t hurt you, Laurent, or your father anymore. You didn’t make the decision…someone who cared about you did.”
“But death?” she whispers.
“Leaders are assassinated to save people. Monsters are slaughtered to protect loved ones. You just have to get past it, Amirah. I know they were your family, but they were hurting your loved ones. They already did.” I pull my face from hers and cup her chin. “They hurt me.”
Her lips part as she stares into my eyes, and then I feel the wrecked sob wrack her body. “Mills, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. You want to see the good. I’ll see the bad.”
“And there’s still more—here in my life. Solange is still alive. My brother won’t stop until she’s dealt with. I don’t want that hovering over his conscience. I don’t want your family to become our hired killers.”
“His hired killer,” I retort. “You didn’t call—“
“You can’t be here.” She begins to pull away from me and slide off the couch, but I latch onto her hip, squeezing her still.
“Why?”
“Because you couldn’t possibly look my dad in the face and pretend that your organization didn’t murder his wife and daughter?”
“I’ll tell him.”
She violently shakes her head. “No, I don’t want…I don’t want that. I don’t want you on his radar. I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“Rus, I’m protected. I’ll explain—“
“No. He’ll never understand. He’ll hate you. It’ll destroy us. It already has.”
“Are you telling me that he’d choose a psychopath over his youngest daughter? That he wouldn’t see reason? With her around, none of you are safe.”
“You going to kill her too?” She rips out of my grasps so forcibly that she almost falls onto the hardwood floors.
Quickly she gets to her feet, pulling her pants up, and I sit up on the couch, watching her rake shaky hands through her thick hair.
She’s stressed out, worried, upset, a bottle of emotions that she’s not able to keep a cap on.
And I can’t seize that away from her.
“Rus—“
“No more killing,” she snaps, pacing the floor in front of me. “No more…I can’t…” She lets out a sob and strides away from me.
That’s when I rise from the couch.
It’s when I decide I’m going to say something really stupid.
But I have to make my intentions known because I’m never going to lie to her whether she wants to hear the words or not.
“I’ll murder her if she lays a fucking hand on you, Amirah. End of story.”
She turns, facing me and still wearing a mixture of anguish and anger on her features. They’re painted on, settled as a mask, so she doesn’t have to figure out what she has to do with me.
And I’m okay with that.
But she needs to be fully aware of what I’m going to do if shit goes sideways.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” she accuses, retracing her steps back in my direction. Her tone dipping into disgust and exasperation. “You can’t walk around doing what you want. I don’t want you hurt. Do you understand that?”
“I can—“ I take a step between us. “—and I will. I respected your decision to not make a move. I can’t tell my family what to do, but they will protect you and me. I’m not going to cut them out over an executive decision you made. You’re still breathing today because they made a call. Your dad won’t be next in line for a funeral because—“
“I don’t want this in my life,” Amirah storms out. “I’m a horrible person for not giving two shits that they’re dead. This isn’t me.”
I shrug, knowing that she’s not. However, she needs to understand that it was for the best. “Welp, no one does…sorry, sweetheart, but I’m here.” I see her tremble before pivoting to her bedroom but not before I wrap my forearm around her waist, thrusting her into my chest. “Did we hit the spot in our relationship where you shut down? Where you don’t want to communicate with me anymore? Did we reach a hard spot, baby?” I scoff and swing my head back and forth, attempting to keep my temper in check, but it’s breaking at the seams right now, and she’s trying to leave me again. “You got me fucked up, Rus. I can be the sweet, considerate guy, but when it comes to your life, I’ll kill anyone who fucks with it.”
“I’m tired,” she deadpans.
My nostrils flare because she’s pivoting off the conversation. “Look at the bigger picture. They’ll never be able to touch anyone you love ever again. And once upon a time, that was me up until this shit happened. Unless you’re one of those flighty bitches who changes their mind every two seconds.”
Amirah’s hands come up between our chests as she shoves at mine, trying to gain space.
Well, too bad she’s not going to get it.
“Are you?” I press back through a growl. “Tell me now, so I know how to proceed with all of this.”
“Sure,” she replies back through a snap. “I’m just like my sisters. I’m related to them after all.” Her breaths are haggard and out of control as she glares up at me with those beautiful eyes and perfect skin.
She’s everything I ever wanted.
And everything I’m going to fucking have, whether I have to pull a chapter from Marty’s book and keep her hostage as he did with his now wife.
“Yes, you are.” My hand snatches up to hold her face in between my fingers. “More beautiful, more driven, more of fucking everything. And that’s why I’m not letting you go. It’s why I love you. And it’s why I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think of ever fucking leaving me because of what we did for all of us.”
“Leave me alone, Mills,” she warns, her eyes tightening. “I’m going to bed.”
“Can’t—“ I lean in closer to her. “—tried before, but it didn’t work out.”
She pulls away, but I’m already lifting her in the air, over my shoulder, and into her bedroom.
We don’t make it there because I’m already slamming her spine and head into the wall and—yeah, dick move, but she’s going to learn one way or another that in the long run, this was all for the best.
I need her to believe that.
I need her to know it was never to cause her pain on purpose.
It was to protect—plain and fucking simple—her brother and father. Because without it, it’d always be them running, fixing, and wondering when the ball was going to drop again.
My lips slam into hers as soon as she’s pinned between my body and the drywall. She resists at first, not wanting to give in to what she’s fighting, but we’re allies, not enemies.
However, if I’m her enemy in her vision when it comes to shit like this, I have no problem forcing myself back into her good graces.
“You’d miss me,” I mutter against her mouth as I pepper kisses to her cheeks and down to her jaw. “There is no one like me in the world.”
“There are plenty of men in the world,” she counters back but not with the same animosity she just had seconds ago.
“Nah.” I lick down her throat then bite down lightly on the column of her soft flesh. “There is no one that’ll love you as I do. Who will keep you safe. Who would slaughter the masses just to make sure you’re secure in this world. Best get used to it, Rus. Because I made you mine…and I’m not letting you go.”
I hear her sigh, still arguing with herself in her head, and it’s time to pull out the big guns and throw them into the equation.
Placing her down onto her feet but not removing myself from the crook of her neck, I order, “Take off your pants.”
“No.”
My lips curl into a self-assured smirk, and I shrug. “Alright then.”
Reaching down, I yank on her sweats, and when she comes with me to fight me on keeping them on, my palm wraps around her throat, and I’m shoving her back into the hard surface behind her.
“Kick them off,” I say again, meeting her eyes with a look that poses no more bullshit. She stares back at me, still not fully sold, and that’s when I reach for my knife—Bishop’s knife—and thrust it into the wall beside her temple.
She gasps in surprise with wide eyes because, yes, I’ve lost my shit, but she needs a royal kick in the ass to get in gear and line.
“Do you love me?”
Amirah nods immediately, which gives me some sort of relief, but I just made a weapon as part of her decor, so she’s probably being cautious.
I got time.
“Take them off.”
Amirah does what I say finally then removes her shirt without my asking. She’s fucking naked in front of me, and while I ordered her to undress half of herself, her doing the other proves that she’s ready for this.
Taking a step back, I allow my selfish gaze to run down the length of her perfect body and sweet skin.
