Chapter Four

Karina

Ijolt awake, the sheets tangled around me. My heart beats a frantic rhythm against my ribcage. I don't know what woke me, but fear clings to me like a second skin, refusing to relax its grip.

Where am I?

Blinking rapidly, I try to orient myself in the dimly lit room but it isn't familiar. I glance around, desperate for something recognizable, anything to anchor me back to reality. The walls are shadows, the air thick with the scent of rain and amber. It's a familiar mix, one that teases vague memories from the corners of my mind.

A body curled around mine shifts, and I freeze, my mind completely blank for a moment.

Coda. His arms are a fortress around me, his breath a steady rhythm against the nape of my neck.

Relief courses through me in a rush. Of course. I'm in his bed.

As if that reminder set them free, memories flood in like a breached dam—images of my father with his square jaw set in determination, his gray eyes cold and calculating as he clenches his cell in his hand. Me, hiding in the closet in his office, listening to every word.

He wears his badge like a shield, but it's tarnished, corrupted by the crimes he's committed. How many have there been? How many has he called justice? Everyone else sees the good guy, the charming cop who has served his city for decades. But it's a lie.

I'm tangled in a web of his making, loyalty to my only family juxtaposed against what's just and right. Each thread is a suffocating reminder that blood can be as poisonous as it is binding.

My world crumbled today, in ways I never expected. And the one who shattered it is the one who was supposed to protect me.

The one who put it back together is the one steeped in darkness. He wears it like a cloak. Or perhaps it wears him. And yet, right now, I trust him more than my own father.

"No," Coda mumbles, jolting beside me. His breath comes in shallow bursts, his forehead furrowed with lines of unease. His strong arm, the one not draped around me as if he intends to protect me even in his sleep, twitches, the muscle flexing beneath his shirt. Even in the dim light filtering through the windows, I see the tension gripping him, the silent battle he wages.

A nightmare.

Coda, the formidable, sleeping giant beside me, is caught in the throes of a nightmare.

My heart clenches for him. Even asleep his world is dark, full of things that haunt his mind. But even now, with distress carving grooves between his brows, he's beautiful. So fierce, so untamed.

I shift closer to him, my hand trembling slightly as I extend it toward his arm. The muscles beneath his skin twitch again, a choked groan vibrating behind his clenched teeth.

My fingers brush his arm, the contact light but deliberate.

"Coda," I call softly, aching to draw him out of the darkness and remind him that he's not alone—not anymore. Whatever haunts his mind, he doesn't have to carry it alone now.

His eyes snap open, a feral glint in their depths. For a moment, he looks through me, still caught in the clinging shadows of his nightmare.

"Cazzo," he rasps, his voice a broken crack of sound that claws at my heart. The vulnerability etched into his features is jarring—a stark contrast to the unyielding man I've come to know. In this moment, he's stripped of all defenses, laid bare by whatever ravaged his sleeping mind.

I lean closer, my own problems swallowed by a piercing desire to comfort him. "Hey. You're okay, Coda. It was just a nightmare." My hand lands against his stubbled cheek. "I'm right here."

His breath hitches, and for a second, I think he might push me away, still tangled in the nightmare. But something shifts in his gaze. The wildness doesn't disappear—it never could from a man like him—but it recedes enough for him to recognize me, to realize where he is.

"There you are," I whisper.

"Karina..." He pulls away with the desperation of a man on the brink. His eyes flicker with torment, darting around as if searching for an escape.

"Coda," I say softly, refusing to let him go that easily. He clearly needs comfort. I think he's just afraid to let himself take it, to let himself need it.

I don't think he's a man who needs much. He doesn't allow himself that luxury. He's an island, self-possessed and self-contained, any hint of vulnerability quickly and ruthlessly smothered.

It's a devastating way to live.

I place my hand on his broad back, feeling the tension in his coiled muscles. "It's okay. I'm here." I scramble to my knees, pressing myself up against him from behind. "You're safe."

Before I can even process how it happened, I'm on my back with him on top of me, my hands pinned beside me.

He stares down at me, wildness still glinting in his eyes. "Karina," he growls, his voice gravelly and raw. "you're playing a dangerous game, little girl."

I don't flinch. I'm not afraid. His weight is a paradox—exhilarating yet comforting, overwhelming yet not nearly enough. His hard muscles press against my curves, and I feel every ounce of his turmoil.

"You're offering a dying man salvation," he grits out, his breath hot against my skin. The darkness writhes within him, threatening to swallow us both. "Keep it up, and he might take more than you meant to give."

If he intends to scare me, it isn't working. There's nothing he could take that I'm not offering freely. I've been offering it since I asked to leave my father's party with him. Even then, I knew what he was. Even then, I wanted him anyway.

"Then take it," I whisper fiercely, closing the space between our mouths with a desperation that surprises even me. "Take me, Coda."

His groan vibrates through me, a sound of surrender that shatters the last of his resistance.

Our kiss is wild, a clash of lips and teeth, tasting of need and an unspoken plea for absolution. My fingers thread through his hair, holding him to me as though I can anchor his soul—as if I'm offering him mine.

I don't think he knows it's already his.

Our bodies twine together, a tangle of grasping limbs and aching need as we surrender to the inferno growing between us.

His hands, rough and unyielding, glide over my body as he tears at my clothes, no longer steady and controlled. He's a livewire, crackling against my skin. Entire acres of my body fall into fire. My breath hitches as his lips find mine again, fierce and demanding, telling me without words precisely how this is going to go.

This man isn't sweet and gentle. He's a force of nature, something that exists wholly outside of our control. If the darkest night had a face, it'd be him. If a cold wind had a voice, it'd be his.

That's okay. I'm coming to realize that I love the dark. I was born for the cold.

"Karina," he rasps against my ear, his voice thick with desire as he rips his shirt off over his head. "You're about to learn what it means to be mine."

The promise in his tone sends a shiver down my spine. Anticipation pools deep within me. There's an urgency to his movements, something primal and unstoppable, as he yanks his pants down his legs, baring himself to me.

If I thought he was beautiful in his suits, it's nothing compared to now. He's carved from granite and covered in ink, a monument to the night.

I reach out to touch him, savoring the way his muscles ripple beneath my fingertips. His gaze is hot on me as I trace swirls over his pebbled nipples and paint paths down his hardened abs.

The man is a canvas of scars and tattoos, each one telling a story of violence and survival. I draw my fingers lower, stopping just above his cock.

"Coda," I whisper, my voice shaking with anticipation. An unholy spark ignites in his eyes at the sound of his name.

He grunts, the sound full of animalistic need, and pushes me back onto the bed. His lips descend on my body, kissing a fiery trail that has me arching off the bed—over my collarbones, between my breasts, across my belly, until he's kneeling between my spread legs, a domineering presence that has me clutching at the sheets.

He stares up at me through his dark lashes, lips glistening wickedly in the dim light.

"Breathe."

Before I can even process what he means, he dives between my legs. His tongue presses against my clit, as he explores intimately, roughly, setting off fireworks behind my eyelids.

"Coda!" I gasp, tangling my fingers in his hair as he feasts on me. There's nothing sweet about this. It's raw and untamed and terrifyingly beautiful. He eats me as if he never intends to stop. As if I'm his to do with as he wishes.

God help me, but I think I might be.

He grips me tightly, pinning me beneath him when I try to squirm away from the relentless onslaught of pleasure he metes out. He growls against me in warning, sending shockwaves through me that leave me whimpering.

And then he reaches lower still—bold, unapologetic—seeking out that other place of forbidden pleasure. His fingers tease at the entrance before sliding inside—the intrusion far too welcome.

What is he doing to me? God. What is he doing to me?

"Mine," he growls against my clit as he continues his wicked assault on my senses.

I come again and then again, helpless to do anything else. Each touch is an explosion. Each lick and suck sends bolts of pleasure ricocheting through my body.

"Please," I plead, not sure I can take much more of his wicked torment.

His dark chuckle has goosebumps breaking out across every inch of my skin. "Tell me what you want, cara," he commands, crawling over me.

"I want you," I breathe. He might be the devil himself. But for him, I'm ready to burn.

"Good girl." He bites down on my lip and grins against my mouth as he positions himself between my thighs. His gaze locks on my face, his expression dark and full of secrets, but somehow soft and gentle too. "I already know you're going to ruin me, cara."

"Coda," I whisper, remembering what he said in the hotel the other night. "Is this...have you never...?"

How do you ask the devil if he's a virgin? I have no freaking clue.

"Never," he murmurs, the truth reflecting in his eyes. "There's only ever been you."

His confession sets my soul on fire. It spreads through every fiber of my being, blazing like the sun. This beautiful, complicated man.

As he enters me, slowly, reverently, the world tilts on its axis. His name escapes my lips in a gasp. I writhe, caught in a net. Drowning. It's pleasure and it's pain, the best of both worlds.

I choke on a cry as my barrier tears. He feels it and groans, pressing his face against my throat.

"Mine," he breathes as if reminding us both that this piece of me will always belong to him now.

I sob his name, my nails embedded in his skin.

"Tell me you want this," he growls, his control slipping as he thrusts deeper, setting a rhythm that has us spiraling into oblivion.

"I want it," I breathe. "I want you, Coda. All of you."

"Yes, that's it, cara," he groans. His thrusts become more powerful, each one knocking the air out of my lungs, only for his name to replace it. Each slide of his body against mine sends sparks straight to my clit. Every touch is a brand searing him deeper into my soul.

"More," I whimper.

"You think you can handle more, cara?"

"Yes," I manage to choke out. Hell yes.

With a feral growl, he drives into me again and again, striking deeper with every primal stroke. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me closer still, guiding me to meet each punishing thrust.

"Mine," he rasps, biting at my collarbone. His hands are everywhere, leaving trails of searing heat where they roam over me.

Oh God... This is heaven... This is hell...

"More," I sob. "More."

He pins my wrists above my head, his grip ironclad. I'm his to command, a willing captive to his every whim.

The room echoes with the sound of flesh meeting flesh and my cries of ecstasy.

"Eyes on me," he commands, his voice a harsh whisper as he forces my eyes to his. A tempest rages in his gaze, a storm of emotion I don't think he knows how to name. But he doesn't have to say anything. I know exactly how he feels.

"Coda," I whimper, driven to the edge by the relentless assault of pleasure he's orchestrated. My body bows beneath him, a string pulled taut, ready to snap.

He watches, a predatory satisfaction in his eyes as he brings me to the brink and tosses me over, not once, but again, and then again. Each climax shatters me, pieces of my soul reforming in unfamiliar ways under the intensity of his touch.

"Mine," he declares, branding his claim into my very core. "Mine."

"Yours," I whisper, lost in the maelstrom of sensation, in the absolute power he wields over my body, and in the undeniable truth that, in his arms, nothing else matters. All I care about is the sense of rightness that settles deep in my bones every time he calls me his.

"I belong to you," I say.

There's a sharp inhale from him, and his rhythm falters a beat before resuming. "Say it again," he orders.

The command reverberates through me, vibrating along every nerve ending.

"I belong to you," I moan without hesitation. It's a pledge, a prayer...a confession spilling past my lips to his ears.

"I need you, Karina," he grits out. "More than air, more than life. I'll learn to be a man you can love."

My heart clenches painfully at his words. They're so raw, so unguarded. They wreck me. The man inside me is a force to be reckoned with, but the man above me, whispering words of need... he's devastating.

If he thinks he has to learn to be someone who can be loved, I'm going to teach him that he already is.

His fingers tangle in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat. He bites down on the pulse hammering there, branding his possession into my skin.

Then he's lifting my legs higher over his shoulders, pushing deeper into me with each determined thrust until I'm crying out in pleasure again. He's everywhere and nowhere all at once—tangling me in a web of sensation that captures me and holds me tight.

"You're fucking exquisite," he growls against my ear. "My angel."

A tidal wave of ecstasy washes over me, stealing my breath and my sanity. I shatter beneath him with his name on my lips, stars exploding behind my eyelids.

My orgasm sends him careening over the edge with me. His raw groan rips through the room as he pushes deep and falls still, emptying himself deep inside of me.

"Karina," he pants, his voice rough as gravel. His weight is comforting, rooting me to reality as he collapses on top of me.

I drift in a haze of bliss, feeling his heartbeat against mine. It's strong and steady, echoing my own. His breath is ragged against the crook of my neck, hot gusts of air leaving goosebumps in their wake. He still clutches at me like I'm a lifeline.

"You... are... mine," he growls possessively, each word punctuated with an aftershock that jolts through both of us.

My heart swells at his declaration. I never thought I'd belong to the dark, but in this moment, it feels more like home than anywhere else.

My eyes flutter, exhaustion pulling me under. I let it claim me with him still inside me, on top of me...seeping into my pores.