With a body she hid from others because of the pain only I knew too well.
Her bruises had been on the outside, from the monster who had adopted her.
My bruises were on the inside, from the monster who commanded me—demanded blood—needed the war.
After all, a King isn’t at peace unless he’s fighting for it.
And I’d been fighting ever since Claire died.
And now?
Now I was tasting it.
Touching it.
My hands gripped her ass; I was so hard I couldn’t think straight, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to plan, beyond this—beyond us.
“I had you once,” I said against her mouth. “And I left you.”
“Ash.” Her lips parted as I kissed a trail down her neck, between the valley of her breasts. “You’re still…” I sucked one of her hard nipples through the material of her dress, wetting it with my tongue, flicking it, then sucking again.
“I’m still what?” I chuckled darkly.
“Literally the devil.”
I pulled back and slowly pressed her harder against the wall, gripped her chin with my hand, eyes locked. I nuzzled her neck and whispered. “Care to sin?”
When she gasped, I invaded again, my tongue fucking her mouth the way I wanted her body.
Who the hell was I kidding?
I wanted everything.
And I was going to fucking take it.
She was mine even before I wanted it before she knew it.
Always.
“Mine,” I growled like a monster, then rested her body against my pinned knee as I shimmied her tight dress past her hips.
She moved against my leg.
“Take it,” I encouraged. “You’re only making it easier for me to take you.”
With a whimper, she fell forward, her forehead resting against my shoulder as she panted with need.
“Unbuckle my pants,” I ordered.
Her blue eyes locked on mine in a challenge, a standoff that would decide everything between us.
And then she reached down and jerked open my belt, painfully, purposefully, hitting every hard inch of me as she roughly tugged it open, followed by the button of my trousers.
Without looking away, she gripped me.
It took every ounce of strength not to whimper, collapse against her, to beg for more of what I’d been needing.
Her.
We made zero sense.
I’d thought.
And now I realized.
We were the only thing that did make sense in this cruel world.
Fallen King and his Orphan Queen.
As she roughly pumped me, I leaned forward, biting down on her shoulder—my teeth would leave marks, the way her touch would imprint on my soul.
“Hard. Fast. Painful.” I barely got the words out. “This isn’t making love, Annie. This is a claiming.”
Her eyes fell to my mouth as she whispered. “Then what are you waiting for… claim me.”
I shoved her hand out of the way, pressed her up the wall, and then impaled her on me, sliding all the way down, until I was home.
In heaven.
Her heat was slick, ready for me, clenching me like she was afraid I was going to pull out and away.
Maybe because so many other times I had.
But now?
Now I was taking.
I moved her up, down, then reached up with my right hand and shoved it into her hair, messing it up, tugging it, refusing to let her be tame anymore— not even letting her hair even be tame as I held on and forced her to ride me.
“Ash, I’m already.” Her eyes were wild, unfocused.
A bead of sweat ran down my temple. “Good.”
“I need more.” She begged so prettily, so perfectly, how could I not lift her onto the counter and pray it was clean as my hips bucked against her.
“So much.” She panted. “It’s so much.”
“It’s us.” I barely got the two words out as I tried to hold myself at bay, tried to make sure she got where she needed to go, but it was too much.
Because it was us.
It was explosive.
It was all sorts of pain.
And pleasure.
And beautiful violence that we both needed.
I tugged her hair again. As she arched back, memories assaulted me of when her head hit the mirror last time we were like this.
I would kill to stay inside her forever.
I spread her thighs wide, gripped her, felt her body sucking me in, holding me hostage as she let out a scream.
My. Name.
Passion, heat, untold secrets, and lies—truths shattered between us as I followed her release.
Both of us panting, I cupped her face gently with my hands, ready to confess.
To reveal it all.
When I heard the slight tick of the lock on the door turning.
Her eyes met mine, wide with fear.
I pressed a finger to my mouth and pulled out of her, then shoved her behind me into one of the stalls, quickly pulling up my pants, flattening them, and grabbing my gun, hiding it in my jacket as I pretended to throw water on my face.
I gripped the countertop then as water dripped off my chin, noticing the reflection in the mirror.
I didn’t recognize him.