Page 55 of Siege of Blood and Betrayal

“Get out of your fucking head, Z,” Huntley pants. “You promised me a workout.”

Arrogant asshole.“You asked for it.”

I let my beast take the reins fully and release my hold on his cock, gripping both his hips as I hammer inside him. The two of us have gone down this rabbit hole more times than I can count and I fucking love it.

Connected as we are, I’m burning with his pleasure and mine. His breath is coming hard and fast. His release is burning at the base of his cock, about to break free.

I’m close, too. Sweat tingles over my skin, the sound of flesh on flesh and throaty grunts muffled by our need to stay undiscovered.

With the sensory bombardment and Huntley’s need to connect, his loyalty, his passion… it’s too much.

My release takes hold, and the world gives way to intense euphoria. My beast roars in my head, and to keep from letting it free, I arch forward and bite the meaty flesh of Huntley’s collarbone, right through his shirt.

The sweet tang of his blood washes over my tongue as hot ribbons of cum surge out of me and I ride out my release. I slidemy hand around his hips and stroke Huntley’s cock root to tip until he’s spent as well.

When we’ve both ridden out our releases, I step back, heaving. As I pull oxygen into my lungs, I lock gazes with my best friend and lick the spill of his cum off my hand. “This was reckless.”

“But you needed it.”

He’s right. I did. The two of us pull ourselves together and tuck ourselves away. We’ve barely finished when a muffled moan sounds from the equipment bag on the ground.

Problems forgotten, I grab the handles of the bag, the thunder of vengeance surging through my racing pulse.

Benoit is the weakest link in our seethe.

That fact will soon be rectified.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Scottie

Being in the thick of the Vasari clan again, and seeing the faces I grew up with, is both grounding and alienating at the same time. I’ve known many of them my entire life. I share memories with them—most of them wonderful—and yet, nothing seems the same.

First, I blame the years of absence.

But it’s more than that. It’s the cloying weight of death hanging in the air. It’s the presence of betrayal in their eyes and the mistrust on their faces.

It speaks of worry and anger, of shock and sadness.

And even though I share the losses as deep or deeper than them, I’m still an outsider.

Francesco Vasari made growing up in the compound a safe place for me. He loved me and he loved Da. They loved and respected Da because of his dedication and commitment to keeping Francesco safe.

I haven’t earned that respect.

Francesco was more than their king. He was a father by blood and by leadership. He was a friend, a guardian, and when needed, he was the one to dole out punishment and sentencing.

Now, that all falls on the shoulders of Zane.

It hurts my already aching heart.

This is my father’s birthday—a day to celebrate a glorious life—and instead, I’m surrounded by death and betrayal. It’s everything he fought each day from taking hold.

I sink into a chair in a shadowed corner, away from the bustle of the new arrivals. I’m not ready to face them. My lungs are locked so tight I may never breathe again.

And being near Zane makes it so much worse.

Why did he have to tell me he loves me? Why should it even matter? I close my eyes and curl forward, dropping my head into my hands. I’m not strong enough to spend time with him.

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