Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
My shift at The Vault was pure hell. Viktor came back three times, each visit more intense than the previous. By midnight, he’d doubled the reward to twenty thousand. By closing, half the island was out looking for his brother.
A flashlight beam cuts through the trees to my right.
Another fucking search party. It’s the fourth one I’ve seen since leaving my car at the bottom of the driveway. They’re getting desperate, combing the same areas twice.
Ducking behind a hedge until they pass, I then continue toward the greenhouse. Its amber glow stands out in the fog like a beacon. On any normal night, it wouldn’t matter, since Damiano’s always up late working. But tonight, with search parties everywhere, that light might as well be a spotlight.
I need to warn him about Viktor’s latest move. That psycho’s calling in some mainland connection guys with military training and tracking dogs. They’ll be here by morning. We’re rapidly running out of options.
As I approach the greenhouse, I slow down. Something’s off. The usual night sounds are gone. Damiano’s radio, the hum of the heaters… all silent. Instead, there’s a different rhythm. Movement. Breathing.
I ease around to the far side where the foliage inside is thickest so I’m less likely to be spotted. Through a gap in the climbing plants, I can see inside.
Holy shit.
Damiano’s on that narrow cot with Briar Waters. Both of them naked, her pale skin almost glowing against his darker tone. She’s on top, moving slowly, her back arched as he grips her hips. Her head is thrown back, chocolate hair spilling down to the curve of her ass.
I should leave. Should turn around and come back later. But I don’t move.
It’s not like this is the first time I’ve seen Damiano with someone before. We’ve had our share of encounters with others around. But this is different. The way he’s touching her so carefully, like she might break. The way she’s responding so desperate, like she’s been cold her whole life, and he’s the first warmth she’s found.
I watch her hands trace the tattoos on his chest, following the patterns I know by heart. His breathing gets faster, shallower. She leans down to kiss him, her hair creating a curtain around their faces.
When she sits back up, Damiano’s eyes shift and lock directly with mine through the glass.
No surprise. No guilt. Just that dark, knowing look that’s always been able to cut right through me. He holds my gaze while he continues to guide her movements, his expression challenging yet inviting all at once.
Ten seconds pass. Maybe fifteen. Neither of us looks away.
Then Briar notices. Her rhythm falters as she follows his line of sight and sees me standing there in the darkness. Instead of the shock or embarrassment I expect, her expression shifts to something more curious. She doesn’t stop moving.
Damiano whispers in her ear, and she nods, her eyes still on me, and she turns slightly to give me a better view of them both. Her naked body is all pale curves in the amber greenhouse light with delicate collarbones, small tits with pink nipples hardened from arousal, the gentle slope of her stomach… Despite her illness, there’s an unexpected strength to her frame.
There’s nothing fragile about the way she controls her movements.
The contrast of her fair skin against Damiano’s darker complexion and intricate tattoos—almost like the good meets evil—sends a surge of heat through me. I clench my jaw, trying to keep my expression neutral.
She reaches back to brace against his thigh as she arches her back more, making a deliberate show of it. The curve of her spine, the way her dark hair cascades down her back almost to her waist makes it impossible not to stare. My mouth goes dry. I’ve seen plenty at The Vault, but this is different. This is Damiano with Waters’ daughter, two people who shouldn’t make sense together but somehow do.
Damiano’s eyes stay locked with mine as he guides her hips, slowing their pace like they’ve got all night now. He slides one of his hands up her side to cup her breast, circling his thumb around the nipple in a way I recognize from experience. My body responds right away, a rush of blood southward that leaves me light-headed for a second.
It’s a performance meant for me—an invitation or a challenge, and with Damiano, those are usually the same thing. I should walk away, but my feet stay planted. Watching them through the fogged glass feels like something from our past, when boundaries between us were merely suggestions.
The corner of Damiano’s mouth lifts in that half-smile I know too well. He says something else to Briar, and she reaches up, gathering her hair and pulling it to one side, exposing the curve of her neck where his mouth now travels. Her eyes flutter closed, but she turns her face toward the window. Toward me.