Chapter 8

Evelyn

It's been exactly two days since Noah told me the truth. Two days since I last spoke a word to him. The need for time to think turned from one night, to one day…and then to more. It's not that he hasn't tried to initiate conversation with me, including about the issue at hand or simple everyday stuff. But my head is in the clouds, working on autopilot, stuck in my routine, while I take a step back to pick up the pieces to put the puzzle back together. And I found myself guilty of the one thing I told him not to do. Retreating to my own corner, putting distance between us.

The sound of running water grabs my attention and my head whips in the direction of our en-suite bathroom. His last attempt to talk to me was this morning when he was looking for his glasses, which he has a habit of leaving where he can't find them. After that, complete silence.

With a heavy sigh, the air drains from my lungs and I collapse back into the pile of pillows in our bed. The invisible wall I built between us is crumbling. No matter how angry I am that he kept secrets from me, I can't solely blame him. I should have been more aware, more... something. All those little signs like his headaches and restlessness - I ignored them, didn't I? Or maybe I just didn't want to see them.

I perk up at the sound of the water slowing to a trickle until it stops completely, followed by the rustling of towels, and a few seconds later, the bathroom door swings open and Noah steps out in all his glory. My heart skips a beat at the sight of him, completely nude, walking across the room toward our walk-in closet. The short strands of his hair, still damp, stick out all messy. His skin is a light shade of red from the hot water. My eyes trace the familiar lines of his body, lingering on the countless scars that stretch across his body.

Keeping my distance from him has meant no cuddling, no kissing, no sex, all of which I'm starting to feel the consequences of. I love him and I crave his affection. I want to be close to him; I want to touch him. Every single cell in my body is screaming to reconnect with him.

Through the open door, I have a perfect view of him grabbing a pair of dark gray boxer briefs and slipping into them. Sucking my lower lip between my teeth, I watch as he adjusts himself until he is completely satisfied and walks back into our room.

I push myself back into a sitting position as he stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes scanning the room until he spots his glasses on the nightstand. After his unsuccessful search this morning, it took me exactly two minutes to find them in his favorite place to lose them: the shower. Almost every time he takes one, he forgets to remove them and only realizes it when he is already shampooing his hair.

"Babe, can we talk?" I break the awkward silence and he turns to me, his eyebrows lifting with surprise.

"Of course." He circles the foot of the bed and sits down on the edge on his side.

"This whole thing, I've read about it, I've watched reports, and I don't like it. Something doesn't seem quite right." I inch closer to him, and he twists to look at me.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I can't put my finger on the exact root cause, it's a gut feeling that something is wrong."

"Dove, nothing is wrong. I checked all the information Kyle was given and I did my own research. It's a clean and easy job. "

"Clean and easy? You're walking into a lion's den. There is literally no information about Ash Lancaster other than what has been shown in the recent news."

"Everything will be fine. It's all planned down to the smallest detail."

"Planned out? Are you serious?" I ask and my jaw drops in disbelief.

"Yes?" He furrows his eyebrows. "A long distance kill. We monitor him through the night and put a bullet through his skull when the time is right."

"No." I shove the blanket off me and get on my knees, scooting closer until I can grab his face, cupping his cheeks in my hands and forcing him to look at me. His expression is completely unfazed. "You're not going! Do I really have to repeat myself?"

His face hardens, any emotion draining from his features. "Evelyn, I've already set everything up. I'm going."

"You did what? Are you out of your mind?" My heart sinks like a brick was tied to it and thrown into the ocean.

"Dove…"

"You just went ahead and made up your mind. You didn't even give me a chance," I say, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and distress. "You said you would give me time to think!" I raise my voice. "You've already decided you're going, no matter what I say." I pull away from him, climb out of bed and step in front of him. "If you didn't even care if I said yes or no, why did you ask? Why, if you don't care about me ? About us ?"

"Evelyn…" He draws out my name with a growl, his eyes wide, his pupils dilating in a warning, predatory way.

"Don't Evelyn me. You're making your priorities clear right now and I'm not one of them."

"That's not true," he insists, pushing himself off the bed and glaring at me, forcing me to stumble backwards as he invades my personal space.

"You are choosing this job over me, over us. Obviously, I'm not your priority, otherwise you'd be trying to find another way to satisfy your cravings!" I raise my hand, point one of my fingers at his chest and bore it into his sternum.

"You're my priority, but guess what, I can't just fucking turn it off like you can!" He raises his hand and slaps mine away. The impact stings, a sharp jolt that travels up my arm and leaves a tingling sensation in my hand. I freeze, my eyes widening as I stare at him in disbelief. Did he just…?

"I don't care." I break out of my state of shock and push forward, slamming my hands into his chest. "Then find a way. You promised me," I repeat as I look up at him and bring my finger back to his chest. This time, I bore it into his sternum with more force. "You're not going!"

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Oh, I can."

"Is that so?" His eyebrows shoot up. "Last time I checked, I'm the one making most of the decisions, Little Dove."

"Hah," I snort, turning and heading over to his nightstand. I yank open the drawer and rummage through his belongings. My mind is clouded with anger and frustration, spinning out of control. Intrusive thoughts replace any coherent and rational ones. If he won't listen to what I say, then maybe he'll just have to feel.

"What are you doing?" His voice reaches me from behind and I hear his footsteps approaching.

Buried among his meds, tissues, and other junk, I find what I'm looking for. I spin around to face him and point the pistol at his chest. Immediately, his hands shoot up in surrender, his face morphing into one of surprise, his eyes wide.

"Put that down…" he says in a calm voice, trying to mask the irritating snarl rising from his throat.

"Shut up! I'm tired of hearing you talk!" I snap at him, and he immediately shuts his mouth. He takes a step closer, but I glare at him and he stops. "If you don't listen to me, I'm going to make you feel. I'll make you physically unable to go."

"Don't you fucking dare," he growls in a warning tone, slowly lowering his hands to the level of my shoulders.

"You leave me no other choice!" I yell at him, a small sob rising from the depths of my chest, my shoulders shaking from my struggle to breathe. My finger slips on the trigger, but my grip on the pistol weakens, my hands shaking.

Within the blink of an eye, his long fingers wrap around my wrist, and he forces my hand up, pointing the pistol at the ceiling. "Let me go!" I scream and my finger slips as I pull the trigger. The explosion echoes through our bedroom, the bullet ripping through the wooden ceiling. The kickback shoots through my muscles like a bolt of thunder and heightens my adrenaline level.

"No," he snarls, forcing me to step back, squeezing my wrist so tightly that the blood no longer reaches the tips of my fingers. I raise my other hand to his holding onto me, digging my nails into his arm. "You're not acting like yourself; you're being fucking irrational."

"Let me…" I squeal as my legs hit the edge of the bed and I topple backwards. His weight crashes down on me, trapping me against the mattress as he pins my hand holding the pistol to the bed.

My gaze lands on the new, clean bullet hole in our ceiling before I meet Noah's eyes staring down at me. His pupils are dilated, the beautiful green fading into the background. His heated skin from the shower seeps through the thin fabric of my nightgown and drapes over me like a warm, weighted, comforting blanket. But it doesn't calm the rage that's simmering inside of me.

"Let go of the pistol," he warns, moving his fingers from my wrist to my hand gripping the handle.

"No!" I scream into his face, my heart hammering against my chest. Not thinking clearly, I bring my knee up in one powerful swing and kick him in the crotch. He grunts, his shoulders hunching as his grip on my wrist loosens. Taking my chance, I rip my hand from his hold, place my palms flat on his chest and flip us over, straddling his hips, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the mattress above his head.

"What the hell are you doing?" he says through gritted teeth, his face twisted in pain, his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

"I'm not letting you go." I squeeze his wrists, pressing the metal of the pistol into his skin. He squints one eye shut as the edges dig into his flesh. My breathing quickens, my chest heaves with every breath, and my heart pounds with a mix of anger and frustration.

Noah's eyes leave mine as he glances between us. Following his gaze, I find the pervert peeking into my drooping nightgown, under which I'm completely naked. A deep grunt rattles out of his chest, sending a shiver down my spine.

His gaze meets mine again and we stare into each other's eyes. His lips part and his breathing quickens, the sweet cinnamon scent of his toothpaste tickling my nose. His eyes flicker to my lips and I catch the moment he makes up his mind.

It all happens so fast. In a heartbeat, our lips collide, fighting for dominance. His tongue forces its way into my mouth and I moan at the intrusion. The kiss is desperate, a release of all the pent-up emotions.

A familiar heat pools in my core, the adrenaline only making it worse. With every throb of my muscles, my hips buck, my clit firm and begging for attention. My eyes widen and my mouth falls open with a loud gasp as he thrusts his hips up, his hard cock grinding against my aching cunt. He takes advantage of the moment and manhandles me, slamming me back into the sheets and sliding between my legs, pinning my hands back above my head. My mouth is still open as he rolls his hips into mine, the rhythmic pressure against my clit sending electric shock waves through my muscles.

"Look, you're nothing but my slutty Little Dove begging for my cock." He rolls his hips again and I let out another throaty moan. His words send a thrilling shiver down my spine.

"Fuck you!" I collect saliva on my tongue and spit in his face, earning a disapproving growl from him.

"Dove," he says, letting out a heavy breath, his nostrils flaring up with anger. "Do I need to teach you some manners?"

"You're the one who needs to be taught manners." I tear my hand from his grip and raise the pistol to his head, pressing the still warm barrel against his temple. His eyebrows shoot up at the gesture and his lips curl into a devilish grin that follows a low chuckle.

"Huh?" he huffs as I press harder, then lowers himself on top of me, his forehead resting against mine. "Baby, you can point that pistol at me all you want. I'm not afraid. You know, when you threaten me, it only makes me harder and encourages me to fuck you until you forget your own damn name." I suck my lower lip between my teeth and stare back into his eyes, my core tightening with anticipation. "Come on, say it. Say you want to kill me." But instead I remain silent and drill the barrel harder into his temple. "Damn it, say it." He raises his voice and slams his fist into the mattress next to my head.

Keeping the pistol pressed to his temple, I fling my other arm around his shoulders and drag him down into another kiss driven by desperation. His response is just as eager.

One of his hands slips under my nightgown, pushing the fabric up and exposing my naked body. He cups one of my tits in his hand and pinches one of my hard nipples between his fingers, drawing a muffled, high-pitched moan from me.

Sinking my nails into his skin, I scratch down his back, tracing his spine until I reach his ass and push into his boxers, shoving the fabric down. Our movements become more frantic as we pull away from each other just long enough to yank off my nightgown and his boxers. The moment the few pieces of clothing are gone, we are at each other's throats again. Our limbs intertwine, caught in a ravenous kiss as we roll across the bed, both of us fighting for the pistol. We scratch, bite and punch, each move fueled by a mixture of passion and frustration.

Until he has me on my knees, my hands tied above my head by one of his belts, ass up in the air while one of his hands holds a fistful of my hair as he forces my head into the mattress and the other holding the gun to my skull. He kneels behind me, his cock between my thighs, rubbing against my dripping cunt with every subtle thrust. My hips buck every time he presses against my clit, the little bundle of nerves pulsing with need. "Will you give up?" His grip on my hair tightens, the pull stinging against my scalp, but I shake my head.

"No!" I scream, muffled by the pillow pressed up to my face.

A heavy sigh escapes his lips, and my eyes widen as he lowers the gun from my head. The cold metal of the barrel traces the curve of my back, glides between my cheeks, and brushes against my anus, until his cock slips from between my thighs. The warmth leaves me, replaced by the hard metal pressing against my cunt. "Still a no?" he asks, pushing the barrel between my soaked folds, up against my opening. My muscles flex, preventing him from easily pushing in.

"No—" Squeezing my eyes shut, my lips part in a loud, throaty moan as he forces it inside me. My cunt clenches around the cold, hard surface. My thighs quiver as my stomach tightens, every single muscle in my body throbbing as it tries to adjust to the pressure.

"Say that again," he dares, pushing the barrel deeper into me. I shove my face into the pillow, pulling at my restraints, trying to break his belt to fight back, but I'm at his mercy.

"No!" I scream nonetheless.

"Oh, my Dove." He chuckles, pulling back the barrel only to pump it back inside me. "Your cunt swallows the pistol so beautifully, sucking in the deadly threat so willingly." He continues, increasing the speed at which he drives it into me with a wet sloppy sound. "If I pulled the trigger, you would explode so beautifully. Paint our bedroom crimson and create a masterpiece." The cold metal adapts to the temperature of my own body heat, making it less tormenting, but the hard surface scrapes against the soft flesh of my cunt, threatening to tear me apart every time he thrusts the barrel in.

"Noah," I moan out his name as I arch my back.

"Yes, just like that." He grunts and drives the gun deeper until the handle of the trigger hits my folds. "God, you're so beautiful, your cunt was made for this," he slurs as his hands begin to tremble, the pistol vibrating inside me, drumming against that one sweet spot inside me, pushing me closer to the edge.

"Fuck, I can't wait any longer," he says, then pulls the pistol out of me. The moment the hard object leaves me, a whimper escapes my throat at the loss of pleasure, but my muscles relax and my legs go limp as I slump into the mattress at the removal of the threat. But I have no time to relax as he lifts my hips back up and pushes a thick pillow underneath me before positioning himself behind me .

My mouth falls open as the tip of his cock pushes between my folds, locking onto my entrance, only to be followed by a deep, violent thrust as he forces himself into me. My body jerks forward and bounces back to meet him as he begins his violent assault on me. A series of high-pitched moans slips out of my throat, tears stinging the corners of my eyes as his hips slam into mine. The wet sound of our skin slapping against each other drowns out my screams and his animalistic grunts.

"Noah…" I call out his name between snotty moans, tears rolling down my cheeks. My body quivers and I cling to the sheets above my head, crying through the pleasure that drapes over me like a weighted blanket, crushing me. His cock slams into me violently, hammering repeatedly against my cervix, causing the muscles in my abdomen to cramp. I usually love pain, it takes me to heights I never want to miss again, but it does not mix well with the high emotions of our current predicament. The intensity builds beyond what I can handle and makes this feel like a real assault as he forces himself on me with pure brutality.

"Pink," I gasp, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Noah, pink!" I repeat, crying out louder this time, the words echoing through the room, drowning out our animalistic cries. Pink —our safe word that doesn't mean a full stop, but a plea to change things up, to ease the overwhelming sensations that are becoming too much for me to bear.

His movements immediately come to a halt, and he slips out of me. His hand lets go of my hair; he loosens the belt around my wrists and sets me free. My heart leaps in my chest that even in such a moment he listens to my needs and comforts and does not just take from me.

I push myself up and put my hands to my face, wiping away the snot and tears. Through blurred vision, I see his eyebrows furrowed in concern, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows nervously. Unable to hold back the tears, I lunge at him, throwing my arms around his neck and slamming him back into the mattress. I land on top of him, straddling his hips and grinding along his cock as it rests against his abdomen.

His arms immediately fly around me, his big hands cupping my ass and squeezing it. I smash my lips against his, forcing my tongue into his mouth and the salty taste of my tears mixes on our tongues. Maintaining the feverish kiss, I lift my hips and slip a hand between us, holding him in place as the head of his cock presses against my opening and slides back into me with ease. Breaking the kiss, my mouth hangs open in a silent moan, our hot breaths mingling as I settle down on him .

"Please don't go," I gasp, rolling my hips. His cock fills me entirely as I take him all the way in, my muscles pulsing around him in waves.

He shakes his head, his lips brushing against mine. "It'll be okay."

I lift my hips slightly and let him slip out of me before I settle back down and push him back in. Shaking my head, I bump my forehead against his as my movements become bolder and I bounce on top of him. "No, you already failed once. What if you fail again?"

"What?" he grunts as my hips slam back down on him, forcing his cock inside me. His well-groomed pubic hair tickles my overly sensitive clit.

"You failed to kill me. I'm living proof that you're getting rusty," I say through high-pitched moans. "I'm your biggest failure."

His eyes widen and his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my ass, threatening to bruise my skin, before he suddenly flips me onto my back and takes his rightful place between my legs, but he doesn't continue his violent chase; he just stays buried inside me, filling me to the brim. He raises a hand to my head, his thumb brushing across my damp cheek. "You are not my biggest failure," he says in a threatening tone. The venom in his voice sends a nervous chill down my spine and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "You are my biggest achievement." My heart leaps in my chest as tears stream down my face, heavier than before.

His lips connect with mine and I throw my arms around his shoulders, clutching at the short strands of his hair as he rolls his hips, pulling out only to drive back in. He's not as violent as before but still not gentle. Muffled by his tongue invading my mouth, moans vibrate within my throat. One of his hands creeps between us and rests on my pubic bone, his thumb finding my clit and flicking it, setting off fireworks in my abdomen.

My eyes fall shut as my orgasm builds, my whole body beginning to tremble. It washes over me like a flood, my muscles tightening and clutching him as he remains buried inside me. I dig my nails into his scalp, holding on tightly.

He breaks the kiss and his lips brush against mine. "Good girl," he purrs and rolls his hips in a steady rhythm, penetrating me through my orgasm. "Never, and I mean never, again call yourself my biggest failure." He pushes in deeper, stuffing me with all he's got. His hips begin to stutter, and soon his muscles tense and his body goes rigid with a loud, deep moan. His cock pulsates inside me and the hot, soothing sensation of his cum filling me warms me from the inside out .

He lies down on top of me, crushing me under his weight and I wrap my legs around him, clinging to him as if he will disappear the moment I let go. I let my emotions free, my heart hammering against my ribcage as I cry into his shoulder while we hold each other, our limbs intertwined.

Only when my muscles relax do I loosen my grip, allowing him to pull away. Kneeling between my legs, he cups my face in his hands and runs his thumb over my cheekbones, wiping away my tears.

"I'm gonna run a bath, how does that sound?" I simply nod and he bends forward, placing a fleeting kiss on the tip of my nose before he climbs out of bed, covers me with my fluffy blanket before he disappears into the bathroom, and shortly after, the sound of running water fills the silence of our bedroom. I grab one of the pillows and hug it to my chest as my eyes land on the bullet hole in the ceiling again and I let out a heavy sigh.

A few minutes later, we're in the bathtub together. The soothing warmth of the hot water eases the tension from my muscles, and the foam of the lavender bubble bath surrounding us adds to the relaxing atmosphere. Noah is sitting behind me, with his head tilted back, resting on the soft cushion of the big tub. I sit between his spread legs, leaning against his broad chest as I sip the mixture of water and cranberry juice he made for me. One of his arms rests on the edge of the tub while the other is wrapped around me with his palm resting on my belly.

With the tip of my finger, I trace the rough edges of one of the many raised, long scars on his arm. There are so many all over his body. I counted them once and came up with twenty-nine cuts or stab wounds, eight bullet holes and one large burn scar on his chest. They are reminders of his past. Of the countless hits he has carried out over the course of nearly nineteen long years. I was foolish to think that I could compete with that side of him, let alone completely tame it, no matter how hard I might try.

I push myself off his chest, place my cup on the edge of the tub, get on my knees and turn around to face him, splashing water on the bathroom floor. He lifts his head off the cushion and looks at me through hazy green eyes, fighting sleep. "Hm?" he hums.

"You can go," I say, and his eyebrows shoot up in confusion, forming deep lines on his forehead. "You will go, no matter what, we can fight and make it so much worse, or I will give you this opportunity. I fell in love with a killer. It was fucking naive of me to think I could change you so easily."

"Dove…"

"I love you for who you are. This is a part of you and if you need this, I can't stop you. "

A small smile plays on his lips. "Thank you," he says, pushing himself forward, his hands coming to rest on my thighs.

"Don't." I sigh and scoot closer, draping my legs over his thighs and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

"I promise you, this is the last. A clean cut. One that I have completely decided for myself."

I close my eyes and lean my forehead against his. "How long will you be gone?"

"A week at most, no more than that."

"Okay," I say quietly, suppressing the raging mixture of sadness and frustration simmering inside me. "Promise me that you will come home as soon as possible."

"The moment the body drops dead to the ground, I'm back in my car heading home."