40. Chapter Forty Nathan

Chapter Forty: Nathan

T he bass pounded a steady heartbeat through the club, vibrating against my chest as I pulled Abby closer. We moved together with the crowd, lost in a sea of bodies and pulsing lights. And yes, we'd come to the dance floor to make it seem like we weren't just here for a clandestine meeting with Jack…but all I could see was her.

Abby's green eyes, the sparkle of her engagement ring, the sleek green velvet dress that looked so out of place in this den of vice.

She was perfect.

And she was all mine.

"Remember this spot?" Abby's voice was a sultry murmur over the throb of the music. Her lips brushed against my ear, sending a surge of heat straight through me.

I couldn't help but grin, memories flooding back. "How could I forget? You made quite the impression."

"Did I now?" she teased, her breath hot on my skin. "Or was it your dirty talk that left the lasting mark?"

I chuckled, low and husky. This woman knew exactly how to push my buttons—in the best possible way. The recollection of that night was vivid; the thrill, the adrenaline, the raw desire. As our hips swayed in sync, I could almost hear the echo of my own words from the past, painting images that had my blood running hotter with every beat.

"Let's find some privacy," I whispered, leading her by the hand to the secluded alcove that had witnessed the beginning of us—where everything had started.

The same little corner, shrouded in shadows and secrecy. It felt like coming full circle, only now there was no uncertainty between us, no holding back.

"Still as impatient as that first time, Nathan?" Her voice held a daring challenge, and I could see the playful spark in her eyes.

"Only for you," I shot back, my voice rough with need.

"Damn right," she purred. "You're all mine, Nathan Zhou."

I knelt in front of her, remembering how we'd done this before—how I'd licked her pussy then buried myself in her wet heat, how we'd been interrupted…and how she'd followed me to what should have been her doom. But tonight was just ours—and I tried to focus on her and not on the past as I dragged her black lace panties down her hips, then slipped them into the pocket of my slacks. Her thighs were still sticky from our tryst before the initiation, from the reminder I'd left that she belonged to me.

After the horror of this night, I needed her.

I needed her the same way I needed air, the same way I needed water. She had somehow made herself absolutely essential.

Without hesitation, I stood and hiked up her skirt, the soft fabric bunching at her waist as she wrapped her legs around me, bracing between my chest and the wall. The thumping bass of the club faded into a distant hum as I scrambled to unzip my slacks, as I pulled my cock out.

I thrust inside her, Abby clenching around me…and I was home.

She clung to me, nails digging into my shoulders, her breath hitching in sharp intakes that matched each thrust. The heat of her surrounded me, and I moved with a single-minded purpose, driving us both toward the edge. There was no world beyond this alcove, no sounds but our mingled pants and the occasional stifled moan.

"God, Nathan..." she gasped, her voice strained. "I'm already…oh God…"

She came hard, her body tightening around me like a vise, and I reveled in the feel of her falling apart in my arms.

"Did you...?" she managed between breaths, her eyes searching mine for an answer.

I shook my head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that told her everything she needed to know. "I want to take you to bed," I said, echoing the promise I'd made the first night we'd been together. "I'm not done with you yet."

The cool San Francisco air hit us as we stumbled out of the Serpent's Den, the club's door closing behind us with a definitive thud. Abby's laughter mingled with mine, a sound so pure it cut through the fog of our earlier lust. Her hand found mine, fingers intertwining as if they were made to fit together. We were giddy, drunk on each other and the night's electric charge.

"Can't believe we just did that," I said, my voice a low rumble as I glanced back at the club, its neon sign flickering like a beacon of our indiscretion.

"I mean, we've done it before…"

"Sure—but only ever with you," I growled. "I can't stay away from you."

I squeezed her hand, leading her toward my parked car. Away from the madness, away from prying eyes. It was just Abby and me now, our own little world within the chaos of the city.

"Are you sure you can wait until we get home?" she said, a playful lilt in her voice that made my heart race all over again. She bumped her hip against mine, a taunting gesture that had desire coiling tight in my gut.

"Wait?" I echoed. "Who said anything about waiting?"

I shoved her against the car, tangling my fingers in her hair. My lips crashed onto hers, hard and insistent, as if I could devour the teasing words straight from her mouth. My hands roamed beneath her dress, tracing the smooth skin of her thighs before sliding to the slick warmth between them. She gasped into the kiss, her body arching into my touch, and I groaned deep in my throat.

"Fuck, Abby," I muttered against her lips, my fingers dancing over her, finding her still wet, still ready for me. The fabric of her panties was bunched up in my pocket, a trophy of our earlier tryst, and the thought of it made my blood burn with need. "You have no idea how much I fucking need to be inside you, petal."

I didn't know where the nickname came from—but it clicked in seconds. She was the most beautiful, fragile thing I had…the thing that gave me purpose. Something that deserved care, love.

"Take me home, Nathan," she breathed out, breaking the kiss just enough to look me in the eyes. Her gaze was steady, but her chest heaved with each breath, betraying her desire. "You promised. Remember? First night at Neon?"

I couldn't help but smile at that, even as my hand remained firmly between her legs, playing her like my favorite instrument. "I remember," I said, voice thick with the memories of that night. It was raw, unrestrained—and it had changed everything.

"Then keep your promise," she demanded softly, her fingers curling into the front of my shirt, pulling me closer.

I snapped back to the urgency of our need, her words like a whip crack in my mind. With a snarl of raw desire, I yanked her door open and practically pushed her inside before slamming it shut. I strode around the hood, my heart racing. The engine roared to life as I started the car, and within moments, we peeled out of the parking garage into the night.

The streets of San Francisco blurred past us, the city lights streaking by like shooting stars as we sped through them. Abby's breaths came fast, each one a mix of anticipation and something wilder.

"Touch yourself," I commanded, my voice rough with need.

Without hesitation, she hitched up her dress, revealing her glistening pussy to the dim glow of the dashboard lights. She looked fucking obscene, her makeup smeared from how hard I'd kissed her at the club. It was a sight that seared itself into my brain, etched deep alongside every other memory of her.

"Can't wait to get you out of that dress," I growled, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. Every fiber of my being strained towards her, drawn by the magnetic pull of her bare flesh. I wanted to pull over, to take her right there on the side of the road, but the promise I'd made echoed in my ears.

Home.

I'd take her home and make good on every filthy word I'd whispered to her since that first night.

"Drive faster," she urged, her voice thick with arousal. Her fingers moved with practiced ease, a silent symphony to which only we knew the rhythm. The sight of her so wanton beside me sent my pulse hammering against my temples, every beat a drum calling me to claim her once again.

"Good girl," I murmured. "Now fuck your hand. I want you to feel yourself."

Her soft moan filled the car, mingling with the hum of the engine and the rush of the San Francisco streets blurring past us. The tension coiled within me, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

As we swung into my driveway, her breathing crescendoed into a symphony of pleasure. The timing couldn't have been more perfect—or more maddening. I killed the engine and practically leaped from the car, slamming the door shut behind me. With a press of a button, the garage door rumbled closed, sealing us away from the world.

I rushed around to her side, yanking her door open. Abby was flushed, her dress still hiked up, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She looked like sin personified, and I was ready to worship at her altar.

"Come here," I rasped, voice thick with lust.

I reached for her hand, pulling her out of the car, and before she could find her footing, I brought her fingers to my lips. The taste of her was intoxicating, a reminder of the power she held over me—over my body, my heart. I savored the flavor, licking her clean, my eyes locked with hers. The air between us crackled with intensity, the connection electric and undeniable.

The stairs creaked beneath us as we ascended, our lips locked in a desperate dance. The urgency of our kisses was primal, as if each one could be the last. Abby's hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, and I clung to her like she was my lifeline. I thought about how different it all could have been—how I would have shown her the world, not just the shadows of it.

If she hadn't seen the darkness that cloaked my life so early on, would the light between us have burned brighter or fizzled out altogether?

"Hey," Abby whispered, breaking our kiss as we reached the top of the stairwell. She searched my face, her brow creasing with concern. "You're a million miles away right now. What's going on?"

Her voice yanked me back to the present, and the weight of the evening came crashing down on me. Kenny's threats echoed in my head, a stark reminder of the knife-edge we walked upon. "Just thinking about how close we danced with danger tonight," I admitted, my voice rough like gravel.

"Too close," she agreed, her voice soft but edged with steel. Her fingers traced my jawline, grounding me. "But we're here now. Together."

"Yeah." My hand found hers, squeezing gently. "Together."

That word felt like a promise, a vow that no matter what the night threw at us, as long as we had each other, nothing else mattered.

I pulled Abby into me, our bodies fitting together as if they were made for this sole purpose. My lips found hers in a deep, slow burn of a kiss that spoke volumes more than any words could. Her hands tangled in my hair, and I felt her surrender to the moment just as I did.

"Abby," I said, our foreheads resting against each other after our lips parted, breaths mingling in the charged air between us. I peered into her eyes, those pools of warmth that had become my salvation. "I love you." The words were heavy with the weight of truth, each syllable a testament to the raw emotions churning inside me. "I can't…I can't imagine my life without you. You're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."

In response, she gave me that smile, the one that lit up even the darkest corners of my being. It was all I needed.

The intensity shifted, flaring into a passion that consumed us both. Our hands moved with a shared urgency, peeling away the barriers of clothing between us. Each piece shed was a layer of the outside world falling away, leaving us bare and vulnerable in the best possible way.

Naked together in bed, I slid home, thrusting deep inside her. Our gazes locked, an unbreakable connection that transcended the physical union of our bodies. God, I adored her. Every inch, every scar, every imperfection—she was mine to worship. And as I moved within her, I made a silent vow to spend my life doing just that, no matter how short it might be.

"Abby," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

She reached up, her fingertips tracing the line of my jaw as she pulled me closer. The tenderness in her eyes was almost enough to undo me, but the raw need pulsing through my veins urged me forward, deeper.

The rhythm we found together was frenzied, a dance of desperate desire that escalated with each thrust. Our bodies moved in perfect sync, chasing the edge of ecstasy until we teetered on the brink. Then, like a dam giving way, we crashed into a shared climax that rocked us to our core.

A strange ache blossomed in my chest, sharp and poignant, as if my heart were somehow breaking from the sheer intensity of what I felt for her. But I ignored it, choosing instead to lose myself in the moment, kissing her through the waves that pulsed through us both. Abby clung to me, her nails digging into my back, and I reveled in the sensation.

In the proof that she was here, she was real, and she was mine.

I only got my head back together when it was over, skin to skin, breath to breath. I felt like I'd had a momentary lapse in sanity—couldn't remember the drive home or our dance, other than the sound of her breathing, her moans. My chest ached like my heart was full to bursting.

I peeled myself away from the warmth of Abby's body, a slight chill in the air causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. The afterglow was still bright within me as I stood, intending to clean up. But then I caught sight of something startling in the full-length mirror opposite the bed—just a glimpse, but enough to send a jolt through my system.

My eyes narrowed on the reflection of my chest, where inked scales ran like a river, the dragon's teeth sharp across my pec. The eye—normally a jet black void amidst the twisting, dark lines—seemed to glisten with a crimson hue. I stepped closer, disbelieving, and touched the spot.

Sure enough, my fingers came away smeared with blood.

The dragon…it was weeping blood.

I rubbed at it, wondering if this was even real, hissing out a breath at the searing pain when I touched the wound. No—something had cut me while we were making love.

Then it clicked—the serpent necklace, the one I'd given to Abby.

It had cut me, the sharp edge of the pendant slicing over my heart during our fervor. I turned back to Abby, who watched me with drowsy, concerned eyes.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her voice soft and husky from satisfaction.

"Yeah, just a scratch," I said, downplaying the sting that seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat.

The irony wasn't lost on me—the gift I'd given her, representing protection and power, now drawing blood so close to my heart. A vivid reminder of the life we led, where even moments of passion could bear dangerous edges.

"Let me see," Abby insisted, sitting up. Her concern was etched across her face, a stark contrast to the satiated smile she wore just moments ago.

"It's nothing," I reassured her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to the bathroom to clean the wound.

As water washed over the small cut, I couldn't help but think about what this meant—the symbol of our love, literally etched in blood over my heart. A sign, perhaps, of the perilous balance between the love we shared and the shadows that always seemed to lurk at the edges of our happiness.

But no matter what, I knew I wouldn't trade a single second of my life with Abby—not for all the peace in the world.