Chapter 18

Eighteen

LIVIA

“I’m sorry, Miss Von Dovish. Like I said, he isn’t here.”

“Let me by.” Shoving past Fritz’s large shoulder, I pummel into the Freidenberg’s coffin-like foyer, terror causing my throat to constrict. “Where’s Arianna?” Managing to choke out the question, my eyes dart around the large front hallway.

“Miss Arianna is out. If you would like for me to⁠—”

Spinning on my heeled boot, I head toward the dark wood staircase before he can finish. After the scene at the front door yesterday, Max was surrounded by his team of men. All of them shoved me out of the way and carried his collapsed body inside. But not before one of them thrust a finger in my face and told me to return to my fox lair. Only to help my brother with Von Dovish security did I obey. Once things seemed calm, I tried to call my lion, but there was no answer.

Until ten minutes ago, when Arianna called in a panic about her brother. Too hysterical to tell me any details, I rushed over and almost had to cap one of his new gate security just to get inside. Now Fritz is trying to block me from getting to him.

Intending to inspect the residence myself, I push into Max’s room. Empty glass whiskey bottles line the floor near his bed. Shattered glass shards lie underneath a picture frame along one wall and, as my eyes travel upwards, I notice a large, wet stain as if he’d thrown the bottle there in a fit of rage. The bed sheets appear to have been mauled. Most worrisome is a box of bullets spilled on the dresser. The entire area looks like a den of despair.

Markus stands in the center living room as I descend the stairs slowly, trying to contemplate my next move. His gray hairs spike out in every direction, as if he’s been rubbing hands through it repeatedly. There’s always a hint of exhaustion behind his eyes, but now he looks haggard and completely hopeless. His glasses have fallen down his nose, and he pushes them up as he waits for me. When I approach, his mouth remains closed, as if he’s lost the will to speak.

“Just tell me where he is,” I plead.

“Miss Von Dovish⁠—”

“Stop it, Markus. You know me. Call me Livia. Where is Max? My spies haven’t spotted him, or…” They won’t tell me. Echoes refuses, saying it isn’t part of her work mission and I’m crossing a “dangerous boundary.” Aries is under Calum’s thrall, and he’s instructed them both to stop giving me intel.

Things around the Freidenberg manor are as still as the air before a devastating tornado, the halls feeling like a morbid tomb. Workers are nowhere to be seen, other than the groundskeeper digging a gravesite in the family’s cemetery for our beloved tank. I don’t know if anyone will return here after what happened.

Right after Max stood from his grieving at the front door, he pulled out his gun and shot his old gatekeeper square in the head, blaming him for not doing his duty. The agonizing look on my lion’s face was torturous to see, but I was thrust away before I could reach out to him.

Markus is reluctant to tell me where he is. It’s understandable the bears don’t trust me fully, but I must find Max before he does something stupid like get himself killed while drunk. Arianna is forbidden from leaving the compound, which has me worried about where she headed, or worse, what has happened to her.

“Livia, he’s stepped out.”

Begging with my eyes, I try again. “Where’s Ari?”

Markus’s withered hand raises to pull his glasses off and clean them with a soft cloth from his shirt pocket. “We bears are trying to recover from our security breach. Given everything that’s happened, I suggest you stick to your side of town right now. I’m not at liberty to discuss my master’s whereabouts or his sister’s. No matter how much you⁠—"

Before he finishes saying it, my legs dash to the foyer. The heavy wood deafens me briefly when I slam the front door. So, I’m back to being a full-blown enemy. Do they think I had something to do with Derichs’s death? Hopefully Master Freidenberg doesn’t believe that.

If Max is gone, then Arianna must have taken the opportunity to sneak away. There’s only one place I know she’d escape to. Well, one person…Wyatt. Her fascination with the mechanic is bordering on obsession, and I fear the feelings go both ways. Despite their attraction, these types of matches never end well in Gnarled Pine Hollow.

The commercial district on the east side appears livelier than the eerie calmness inside the estate fences. Clean and bright signs advertise new businesses while bars and restaurants showcase their goods on sandwich boards lining the swept sidewalks. Asphalt smoothly paves the roads along the main strip. Less zombie-like people roam about or stand on deserted street corners, filled with the drugs Strauss’s men so willingly give out for the small price of a soul.

Before I reach the motorcycle shop, an ominous pillar of black smoke rises above a line of pines that has yet to die. Slowing as if it’s afraid to behold what my eyes are seeing, my SUV creeps around the corner. Bright orange and red flames engulf the establishment. Heat waves make the scene difficult to assess, but clusters of men stand around in leather, motorcycles parked around in a circle. All faces peer up at the firestorm as if it’s a hole to Hell opening before them.

Her long dark hair is visible before anything else as her face is hidden, tucked into the protective, corded arm of her secret lover. Gently, his hand caresses circles on her back as I approach.

Clearing my throat, I stand with the crowd, in awe of the destruction before me. “Ari.”

Lifting her head, her chocolate brown eyes sparkle with tears, and despite me being an ally for the two of them, Wyatt instinctively turns his body into hers as if to shield her away. It’s not going to work. Her lithe arm reaches toward me, and I embrace her. Sobs wail in my ears as I hold her shaking body against mine.

Pulling her back, I grasp her face in both of my hands. “Arianna, who did this?” Wyatt has not let go of her hand.

“We don’t know,” he answers for her. “But, if I had to guess, it was Strauss. Just like with Derichs and a few of our men.”

“Not Ace? Or… anyone else?” We have so many enemies now. It could have been anyone.

“Nah. Rogue had some trouble with one of Strauss’s guys here yesterday. He thinks he must have planted something and then detonated it this morning. We just got here to open up shop and were greeted with this.” He nods at the roaring flames, narrow eyes becoming almost invisible as he squints in the heat.

“Wyatt, man, they’re reviewing the footage.” One of the workers calls him over, and he kisses Arianna’s temple briefly. “I’ll be right back, vix.”

Arianna reluctantly lets go of his hand, their fingers extending toward each other by some invisible force, but her tiny hand still has mine in a tense grasp.

“Vix?”

“Vixen. The spies are looking into things, but Max is convinced. I think…” She pauses. Swiping at her face, she shakes out her hair. “Livy, I think he left from here to do something really stupid. The look on his face⁠—”

“Where did he go? What did he say?” Gripping her face, I jar her slightly, hoping the answers drop out of her mouth.

“I don’t know. He’s been drinking heavily all night. He was all paranoid. Once he was alerted to this earlier this morning”—she waves her hand at the fire—“he took off, drunk and mumbling. He said something about revenge. About going to—” Biting her generous bottom lip, she stops herself and glances toward Wyatt.

My fingers grasp her little shoulders and shake her back to my attention. “Where? Where did he go?”

Batting her lashes at me like I’m one of her simps, she says, “Uh, please don’t get mad at him, Livy. He’s just really messed up about Adal.”

Her whiny tone only makes the ire in my neck rise. “Where, Ari?”

She sighs and peers into the flames, the reflection causing her olive skin to redden. “I think to the Crimson Angel.”

Motherfucker. If he so much as put a hand on his zipper in front of one of the whores there, I’ll burn down another of his establishments, too. Pining over me hard, only to, what, ditch me for something he had to pay for? Just like my father…

Checking for my knife in my boot, I get a vision of slicing off that perfect cock of his.

“Wait, Livy!” Arianna calls out.

I’m already gone. Jumping back into the driver’s seat, I rocket toward the lounge. Each mile causes the blood to move from a pulsation to a gushing sound within my ears while sweat pours down my back despite the chill winter air. Driving over gives me a bit of time to think up some strategy, but the rage inside makes logical thought impossible.

Before I can enter the bar area of the brothel downstairs, Clive, the bouncer, stops me. Hungry for a feel, his rough palms explore my body for weapons in my robust cleavage. Impatiently, my foot taps as I heave a sigh into his face. I hope my breath stinks.

“This is ridiculous. I wouldn’t walk in here with a gun.”

Fingers dig into my breasts on either side as his thumbs brush over my nipple bars under my black T-shirt. It’s a last-ditch effort to satisfy his need for domination before he steps aside. Small dick asshole. Using my full force, I shove the bar door open dramatically.

“Hey, Dove!” Gerald pipes up when he sees me enter, wiping a glass clean with a white towel.

“Save it, Gerald. You know I’m Livia. Where’s the bear?”

His light eyes look at the cloth in his hands briefly before darting to the left. “I don’t know who you mean, Livia.”

“Bullshit. Where is Freidenberg?”

Several patrons glance up from their tables, some nervously scattering from the room. A large hand grips my shoulder. “Careful, fox.” Clive’s deep bass rings in my ear. Twisting my torso quickly, I shrug off his warning hold, then slide to the right, dipping to the back hallway. Clive is big and slow, not able to keep up, but Strauss or another of his men will be here before too long, which has me dancing away as quickly as I can.

There are three halls with boudoir rooms, so many it could take a while to find him. And with the cameras humming as they follow me, I don’t have much time. Picking randomly, I sprint down the hall to my left. None of the rooms have locks, so I just need to open the doors fast and move in a line.

In the first suite, I find three men together on the bed. One is riding a laying man reverse style, while sucking the standing man’s cock. No Max.

Another door is filled with at least ten people in various stages of sex, but still no lion.

By the sixth door, I spot the curvy hostess, Jade, cleaning a flogger in her palms. She flips her head to the door as I fling it open, her eyes widening, then they narrow as she scans my body, sizing me up.

Jade turns fully toward me as if she’s going to be able to take me in her stilettos and tiny strapped dress. “You’re not allowed in here.”

“Where’s Freidenberg?”

A change comes over her face as her dark eyes sparkle, her generous maroon lips straining to contain a smirk. “Oh… Max left here not too long ago. Great dick, don’t you think? It’s so sexy when he growls like a bear as he comes.”

Her words cut me through the chest. Did they? Closing my mouth, I swallow and raise my chin. “Where did he go?”

“Probably to my bed for a second round. I don’t think he has use for you anymore. At least that’s what he told me.” With a few long strides, she saunters closer, leather straps in her hand gleaming in the dim light as she smacks it into an open palm. “So go on home. I’ll take good care of him.”

As she nears, each waddling step of hers causes my rage to grow from stunned pain to full out fury. Her hands reach out to grab my arm, but I bend, sliding my hand into my boot and flicking open my knife. When I jerk to a stand, my fingers grip her neck, pulling her body close to me.

Before she understands what has happened, I allow the wrath inside to take over and my fist stabs her in the chest rapidly, repeatedly. After each slice into her abdomen and ribs, I dip and spin with perfect piqué turns. Shocked, she stumbles, arms flailing without any coordination.

As she falls backwards onto the carpet, I lunge and sit atop her, gripping her torso with my thighs. With the tip of my blade, I puncture her carotids on either side until the red gushes from her open neck wounds, spurting like geysers onto my hands and exposed forearms. Her body jolts in frantic twitches until it settles, her eyes stiff and wide with horror. Her last sight was me hovering over, delivering her to death.

Catching my breath, I wipe off each side of the knife on my jeans, then shove it back into its home.

Well, I guess I’ve killed a person. Before I can think too deeply about that, my shock is interrupted as my phone buzzes in my pocket. Even before I slide it out, I know it has to be Echoes. She probably spied on the entire situation. Scrubbing my hands on the dead woman’s dress, I answer the call.

“Yeah?”

“You look like you could use some help,” she says in a voice that’s way too calm and patronizing.

“Shut up and fucking do something. Now.”

The lights in the place go out a second later. For months, I studied the cavernous hallways of the brothel to get the armory key, and I was the best at hide-and-seek down here when we were little. If Echoes can hold off on Strauss’s security coming to find me, I’ll have a chance to get back to my car... and hopefully find Max.

The feel of the cold stones cuts into my finger pads as I graze them along the walls, counting the doors until the seventeenth on the right. Pushing in, I enter my escape room, the old kitchen cellar with some stairs leading out to the back of the building. Shuffling along the floor, I edge toward the west, blindly reaching out for a doorknob.

Lights blare brightly as they turn back on. A brassy ornate knob sits in my hand, and I turn it until the winter air blasts me in the face, the threat of snow hovering in the purple sky.

I’m able to sneak through the back grounds toward my car, scanning the lot for Max’s Barracuda, but I don’t see it. As I dart out into the main street, I consider where he may be and come up with only one conclusion.

Strauss.

And certain death.

Flooring the gas, I speed through the south’s streets, heading north as bile rises into my throat. Dusk spills over into the light quickly, filling the sky with darkness as I approach dangerous territory. My heart rate climbs as images of what I may find near the consort’s land invade my mind.

Ravaging down the twisted lanes leading up a small incline to Strauss’s mansion, I have to turn on the headlights in order to see anything meaningful in front of me. When my phone jiggles in my pocket, I almost release a terrified scream, but I pull it out and toss it onto the passenger seat, knowing full well it’s either my brother or Echoes, telling me not to do what I’m about to.

Each twisted pine and old oak hides something I may not want to see behind it, but I still strain my neck to peer around them as the car approaches the tall iron fence at the entrance.

Before I reach them, I slam on the brakes at the horror before me.

The gates have been blown off their hinges, guard towers leaning dangerously sideways with the stones from their base crumbled in rough piles like everything has been blown up.

On the largest pillar of rubble stands my lion, on top of a bloody battlefield, a heap of dead men surrounding his feet. In one of his hands hangs a machine gun, and in the other, a severed head. Tendons and clinging skin swing from the base of it in the crisp winter breeze as it drips with what was left of the man’s life.

Other pieces of Max’s stage are almost indistinguishable. Maybe a half of a leg here, some arms there… eyes and entrails. A guard has only a torso, but remains alive and attempts to crawl away on the only elbow he has left. Max raises his gun and sprays him with bullets in the back of his skull, brain matter shooting out from the large wound with each bullet.

If my vision could make out that what was before me was indeed real, I believe I’d vomit at the sight.

Turning slowly, Max’s half naked body puffs up to the largest I’ve ever seen it. The T-shirt he was wearing has been shredded, almost blown off his top, leaving his exposed chest sliced with small cuts from debris, each oozing with blood. From all the carnage he’s caused, ash and gore coat almost all his skin, blackened as much as the look he gives me through the dusty windshield.

When he sees it’s me, something falters in his countenance, and he drops the gun and head, collapsing to his knees. Hurling myself out of the car, I dash over to him. Despite everything on him, the stench of liquor is still strong, pungent over the smell of burning destruction.

“Fox,” he moans with a sluggish slur as my feet near his body.

“I’m here, lion. Come on, we have to move.”

“No! Leave me.” Every word he says is mumbled so heavily, they seem trapped, barely able to depart from his thick lips. Squeezing his eyes shut, he avoids my gaze. Quietly, he meditates, “Just fucking leave me here.”

Grasping under his large arms, I try to pull him to a stand. “Up and at ’em, soldier. We’ve gotta move.”

When he’s able to, his eyelids open, the wide pupils finding mine after a moment of unfocused haze. “Help me,” he says in a tiny voice I haven’t heard since he was squatting over a hornet’s nest one time during hide-and-seek. I’ll deal with his dick later. Right now, I need to get us both out of here.

Shuffling to his feet, he leans on me as I walk him over to the Victor and shove him inside. As soon as I close the door, he slouches, resting his dark head of hair against the window.

“Where’s your car?” I yell to keep him awake, but when I look at him, his eyes are focused, the orange lights of the dashboard lighting up his stoic face. Reversing quickly, I spin around and head back down the winding drive toward the main street.

Max moans and slumps farther in his seat. He rubs his chest with a hand, probably attempting to soothe his open sores. “Left it down the road... Gemini can get it.”

I’m not even sure I want to ask the next question or want the answer to it, but I have to know. If he stuck his cock in someone else… I can’t be with him. Men cheat, I know that. But I want someone different. Someone special, someone who would never even think of being with someone else. I want someone obsessed with me.

Max seemed that way. He always did, ever since we were kids, and I was so used to the way he would stare at me with wonder, fear, and reverence. Now, his eyes are glassy with a distance I’ve never seen before. He won’t even look at me. Like he doesn’t even care I’m here with him.

“Did you fuck her?”

Without a peek over or reaction, he only murmurs a question back, “Who?”

Attempting to shove some saliva down my constricted throat, I squeak out, “Jade, at the Crimson Angel. Did you fuck her?”

Max’s head slumps back against the seat. “Livia.” He says it as if he is about to scold me, then pauses. A quick snort of air leaves his nose while his jaw clenches. “Just fucking take me home.” Not sure how to digest his irritated response, I decide to address it once he’s sobered up some, despite everything in me wanting to pull the answer from his jowls with forceps. A sigh escapes my nose as he continues to fixate his gaze out his window.

When I approach the manor gates, three guards aim their rifles at me. Two are in the stone towers built above the high walls, while one sits in the guard station. Clearly, he’s ex-military, with lots of tattoos on his forearms, showcasing his branch. The crewcut he wears only makes his thick neck look like a tree trunk.

He approaches my window with a look of disdain as I lower it. “Miss Von Dovish, you’re not welcome⁠—”

“Let her in,” Max growls from the passenger seat.

“Oh, Mr. Freidenberg. So sorry, I didn’t see you there. Hang on.” The grunt moves to open the iron gate for us, and I proceed through slowly. For once.

“What happened?” Markus’s harried face greets us when I pull up, tugging at the ends of his gray hair. Jakob skirts around him and gets right to work, opening Max’s door, the two shuffling inside. Markus stares at me like I’m the one responsible for his master’s condition.

Tossing the tail of my hair over my shoulder, I straighten up and stare him down. Right now, Markus is not my favorite person. “Your boy went to Strauss’s for revenge and may have caused a war.”

He closes his agog mouth and gives a slight nod, as if everything I said was just confirming his worst suspicions. “I’ll get the healer.” Markus strolls into the house quickly, and I follow before anyone can throw me out. Taking the steps two at a time, I brush up toward Max’s bedroom, the door left open as Jakob walks out of the bathroom, the sound of the shower running.

Jakob eyes me suspiciously for a moment before sliding outside, closing the door behind him. I take the time to straighten Max’s bed, fixing the sheets and moving some of the broken shards. Despite needing some answers and being unsure of what exactly transpired, I don’t want him hurting himself even more. Before the water turns off, I ease out to the hall to use the other bathroom to clean myself up.

When I return, Max’s head rests back on the cushioned headboard, propped on a sea of pillows, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The skin of his exposed chest looks like a carver had his way with it, cuts and gashes oozing in the dim light of the lamp. Not sure quite what to do with myself, I stand near the door and shift my hips.

I open my mouth to ask an unknown question, but Max murmurs before I can. “Why are you here, Livia?”

Scoffing, I beeline for the bed and sit next to him. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

His eyelids twitch before lifting slightly. Dark eyes peer at me without moving his head. “Why do you fucking care, Livia? I chased you. You obviously won’t trust me. Don’t know if you ever will. Maybe you shouldn’t…” Spoken with barely a whisper, his voice is strained and cracked. “What kind of leader lets his man get nailed to the front door?”

The stubble along his jaw tickles my palms as I grasp it, forcing him to look at me. “A good man.” Maybe he was right. Max is loyal and honest, always saying exactly what he means. He goes after what he wants and never backs down from a challenge… The realization hits me, along with the flavor of guilt.

“You didn’t have sex with her.”

The thickness of his brow increases as his upper lip snarls. “How the fuck could you think I’d do something like that? I’m in love with you, Livia! You’re pissing me the fuck off, not being on my side.”

“I am on your side. I have always been on your side!” Digging into my pocket, I thrust my good luck charm into his big palm. “Here. You wanted to know what I carry around? I’ve had it since we were eight years old. I stole it before you left.”

Peering into his hand, his eyes widen as he gasps. “My…my matchbox Barracuda? You’ve had it this entire time?”

“It meant something to you. So, it meant something to me. I wanted to be a part of your life. I wanted to be a part of your dreams. You’ve always brought me luck, even when we were apart. I could feel you whenever I’d look to the east. I love you, lion. I always have.”

Now it was his turn to grab my head, pressing his forehead to mine in a tight lock. “Fuck, Livia. I love you. I’ve always felt you, too. Always. You were my compass home.”

My eyes fill with tears as his lips seize mine, desperate to close the gap between us. Droplets fall down my cheeks as he engulfs me. As our air combines, his soul and mine irrevocably intertwined. The warmth of his mouth heats me to the core as he breathes truth into me. It’s a realization. An epiphany.

“I trust you.”

His fingers trickle down my chest, then to my tucked leg, and slide into my boot as he maintains his grip on my lips. The familiar flick of the knife pierces the air as he holds the blade up close to the sides of our faces.

“You trust me?” Molten brown eyes appear menacing as he flashes the steel back and forth in his hand.

“Yes, Max. I trust you.” And I do. He isn’t Franklin Von Dovish. He’s my little lion. The boy who rescued me from the monster under my bed during sleepovers. The man who almost got killed stealing a ring so I could keep my mother’s. Someone who has sacrificed his own happiness and safety for the good of his people on East Side.

Max presses his lips on my forehead, then grabs a whiskey bottle from the nightstand by the neck. Pulling out a tissue, he pours some of the liquid onto it, then rubs down the blade of the knife. Drying it off, he glances up at me.

“Take off your clothes.” Sliding off the bed, I stand and peel off my tank top and bra. Unbuttoning my jeans, I shimmy out of them, tugging down my thong. His eyes hungrily observe every movement of my hips. Stepping out of my boots and pants, I bare myself completely in front of him. “My perfect fox.” Max licks his bottom lip, then sucks it in underneath his front teeth. “Sit here.” He pats the bed in front of him.

Moving closer, I cross my legs as his surround my hips on either side. Max places the sharp edge of the blade just above my left breast. Involuntarily, I snap an inhale, both from the coldness of the metal and in anticipation of his next movement. At the sound of my breath, the sides of his lips tug up in a smirk.

Slicing slowly across my skin, each line sends lightning shocks down my chest, vibrating the silver bars piercing through the tips of my tits. As he leans forward, his own cuts and wounds seeping with serum and blood. Gazing down at the sheet bunched at his hips, Max’s very obvious erection pokes out like a tent pole.

“Those nipples make me fucking hungry…” he barely murmurs above a whisper, as if it were a thought he accidentally said out loud. They are hard as rocks, and when I peek to where his eyes are staring, the blood has dripped down from the small cuts onto each.

The final cuts make me doused between my legs. Each slice causes my pulse to progress to a rapid pace until I let my neck fall back while closing my eyes.

“Mmm, foxy. I gotta…” The resonant tones of his voice have my skin tingling with anticipation.

Lifting my head, I get the sense Max is barely hanging on, his eyes telling me the bear is about to maul me.

A sharp flux of air brushes past my open mouth. Looking at my breast, I see his work complete. “Your initials.” It’s filled with dripping red droplets, but a clear M and F are sliced just above my heart.

“Mine.” Max meets my face with the solemnity of gravity. Dragging a finger through his blood, I smear it carefully across his chest as he stares at the motion, a breath catching in his lungs as his ribs puff out. His dick surges between us, the sheet stretching as his cock tries to claw its way toward me.

“Mine,” I say, making sure he meets my gaze when I do.

Putting the blade down, he grabs my hand and forces my bloodied finger into my mouth. “Suck.”

A salty metallic liquid fills my taste buds. I lick over my teeth and around inside my cheeks to get more flavor everywhere. I need more.

Max can’t contain himself any longer. “Fuck!” He lurches forward and places his full open mouth over his carvings on my breast. His teeth gnash into my skin as his tongue sweeps over the wounds. If my clit wasn’t pulsing before, it’s now throbbing with desire, my hole empty and desperate to be filled by him.

His mouth moves lower until he latches onto a nipple bar with first his lips, then his pearly whites, in a rugged motion. As he tugs on it, I moan loudly. “Max, please.”

Brown eyes squint up at me as he holds a nipple between his teeth. “Please, what?” he asks while biting down.

“Please, please give me… I need your…” I’m heaving breaths and reach to fondle him with my hand over the sheet.

A feral growl rises from his chest and reverberates into the metal bar of my nipple, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure down into my pussy until it soaks the cotton beneath me. Max leans back on his hands, exposing more of his tanned, broad chest lightly dusted with black hair, a trail leading to exactly where I want to go.

“Suck me.” As he had done to my wounds, I suction my lips to one of his weeping cuts, lavishing in the flavor with my tongue. “Oh, fuck, foxy.” His head drops back, and he leans farther into the pillows, unable to hold himself up. The iron tinge hits my mouth, and I move to another cut, licking it dry. Before I move to the next, Max lifts my thighs with his broad palms and settles me onto his hot, reddened cock head. “Sit, baby. Sit on my dick. I have to be inside you while I drink your blood.”

Easing myself down, I place my arms around his neck as our foreheads connect. Both of us moan in ecstasy as I glide over his entire length, sheathing his fullness as deeply inside of me as he’ll go. Once settled, I sit on his lap, just nestling him there, combined.

“Fuuuck, foxy.” With a palm on my shoulder, he leans me back so he can savor my cuts, occasionally switching to a nipple as I writhe my hips up and down his long, thick shaft. Every inch of his cock fills some need I have within me. He belongs inside me, and I belong to him.

Raising his heavy-lidded eyes to mine, I see a smear of my blood on his full bottom lip. I know what he wants. Our mouths meld together, swapping our crimson souls as I taste myself on him. His arms wrap tightly around me, the dark hair on top of his head tickling my chin as he squishes his cheek against my thumping chest. “I hear your heart. It says you’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.”

With one last downstroke on his cock, he holds me there, preventing me from moving while I wiggle until my clit brushes repeatedly against his pubic bone. Screaming in the throes of my pleasure, I reach the height of my ecstasy, and Max erupts within me with a loud roar. His cock and cum stretch me further than I thought I could go as he yells out my name. We hold each other, catching our breaths. Every throb of him inside me, emptying into my womb, every pulsation of my pussy, soaking it in… We ride out the waves together, taking our time and never parting.

He leans back, bringing me with him until I’m laying on his firm chest covered with tiny sweat beads. Through his bones, I feel his heart beating rapidly, making his cuts ooze more between us, coating our skin and causing us to stick together. He slowly dissipates within me, but I refuse to let him slip out by squeezing my inner muscles, embracing him, and keeping him inside where I want him.

“That was our ceremony.” The tenor of his voice lulls my eardrum into a trance as I stare off into space without a thought in my mind other than pure satisfaction.

“Hmm?”

“That was our ceremony. We can sign fucking papers or whatever, but we’re one now, foxy. You can take my name if you want, but if you don’t, just know I’m carved on your heart, and in your blood.”

Raising my head, I brush some of his black hair back, getting lost in the seriousness of his eyes. “Do you mean we’re married?”

“Yep. We are. That was it. I’ll put that purple sapphire on your hand, feed you some cake, take you to a beach somewhere sunny, but you’re my wife now. You’ll live here, at the manor. You go where I go. My people are your people. You’re a bear now, even though you’ll always be my little fox. Okay?”

If I didn’t think I could form more tears, I was wrong. It takes me at least a minute before I can even choke out the words. “Yes, okay.” He’s my husband. Maybe he always was, because this was meant to be.

Leaning down, his lips tap the top of my head. “Mrs. Freidenberg.”

Meeting his eyes, I feel the comfort with him now to confess something I should have all along. Something I’ve been holding back. But now he is mine and I am his. We are one. No more secrets or trying to tear us apart. I see that now.

“Max, our parents… I think they were right about something, no matter how screwed up they were.”

His lips don’t stop pattering over my skin, my hair, my ear, anywhere he can reach. “What’s that, foxy?” he asks between kisses.

“Their wills. They wanted us to get married, wanted me to birth your heirs.”

Black eyebrows raise with his shock. “Really? I mean, I never took the time to look at the latest one.”

“Yes. They wanted something different from our ancestors. There’s a section in my parents’ will that talks about wanting our three families to combine to overthrow the tyrant. You know that with three families agreeing in the senate, then they can cast out the sitting consort.” Shaking my head, I lean up on my elbows to take in his handsome face. “I just resisted it all this time because my father… Well, fuck Franklin Von Dovish and whatever he wanted, you know?”

A corner of his lips lifts as he nods. “Yeah, that makes sense.” His large palm brushes my hair and plays with the short strands on either side of my head as the divot between his brows grows deeper. “So, Calum was to marry…”

“Ashley Donovan.”

“Ah.” He swallows. “Wait, that means… Arianna and⁠—”

With a grimace, I let him know the truth. “Ace, yes.” His forearm muscles twitch and tighten around me as he pulls me back to his chest, placing his hand on my head, stroking my hair.

“He’ll just kill her to spite me.”

“We won’t let that happen.” As his arms flex, he tugs me into him tighter. Those dark eyes turn almost black as his stare seems to find something far away.

“No, we won’t.”