Page 92 of Bought By Santa

I climax so hard my vision distorts. My cum is flooding her drenched channel, and I keep my cock deep inside her, making sure not a drop of me is spilling out.

We’re a tangle of limbs and soaked sheets, the coppery scent of blood lingering in the air. In this moment, boundaries cease to exist. We are one, bound by shared scars and a love forged in the darkest corners of our souls.

Chapter 31

The Santa

Sleep eludes me as the hours trickle by, and although I feel like I should get up and do something, I can’t bring myself to leave Carolina. She’s fast asleep in my arms, snoring softly.

When she first fell asleep, she was tossing and turning and whimpering like she was stuck in a nightmare of sorts. But for the past couple of hours her breathing has evened out, and she seems peaceful in her sleep.

Not for the first time, I hear a noise that seems out of place, but when I check my phone, there’s no update from Marco or any of the others. It’s probably just my imagination playing tricks on me.

As much as I hate doing it, I untangle myself from Carolina’s sleeping form and shrug on my clothes. Then I leave the room as quietly as possible. The need to do something to find whoever is really behind Willow’s death is stronger than my need to stay with my hellcat.

Though I haven’t told her that I suspect someone else is pulling the strings, I want to find the fucking puppeteer. Not just because no one crosses me and lives, but also because I’m eager to give her the gift of closure, of knowing all ends have been tied.

Walking through the dark halls of my home, I run my hand down my face. Like earlier, the thoughts in my head are swirling in a myriad of different directions. But now they’re all grounded in one simple root; it’s not a coincidence.

The ambush on Jack and then shooting Willow…

One might be a coincidence but two is a pattern.

The reports in my study don’t offer any more info than they did earlier, but something gnaws at my gut. I feel as though the answer is right in front of me, yet I’mstillnot seeing it clearly. With a final glance at the papers that don’t offer any answers, I head for the kitchen, needing something to drink.

Padding soundlessly down the hallway, I navigate the familiar shadows of my home. The kitchen’s just ahead, its appliances gleaming faintly in the moonlight filtering through the windows. I reach for a glass, filling it with water from the fridge. It’s when I turn, sipping the cool liquid, that my world tilts.

Marco, my right-hand man, lies sprawled on the tiles. Unconscious or worse. The glass slips from my grasp, shattering against the floor, splintering like the calm before the storm.

“Shit.” My voice comes out in a snarl.

Adrenaline surges as I kneel beside him, checking for a pulse. It’s there, weak but steady. No time to figure out what happened—there’s only one thought that consumes me; Carolina. I spring back through the hallways, every second stretching into an eternity. She’s alone, unprotected. My chest tightens, muscles coil ready to strike at anything that threatens her safety.

Bursting into the room, the sight that greets me ignites a primal rage within my veins. An intruder stands over the marital bed, a shadow with malicious intent, while my hellcat sleeps, oblivious to the danger looming over her.

“Get away from her!” The words come out as a growl. I launch myself at the bastard, tackle him mid-air. We crash to the ground, a tangle of limbs and fury. His surprise is to my advantage.

I’m a dark storm of fury as I pin the intruder to the ground, my hands itching to end his pathetic life. Every muscle in my body screams for vengeance, but there’s something I need more than his blood—answers.

“Who sent you?” My voice is a blade, sharp and deadly.

“Nick…” Carolina’s voice quivers behind me, but it steadies into something harder, colder. I don’t turn to look at her; I can’t risk losing my focus on this bastard beneath me.

“Tell me!” I demand, pushing the pressure point under his jaw with ruthless precision, promising silent death if he doesn’t comply.

“Okay! Okay!” He chokes out the words, eyes wild with fear. “It was Caspian!”

The name slices through me like ice, the betrayal by my own flesh and blood igniting a firestorm inside my chest. “Caspian? My dad?” I growl, disbelief warring with a rage that threatens to consume everything in its path.

I sense Carolina moving behind me, hopefully she’s covering herself up. Not that this fucker will survive the night, but thatdoesn’t mean I want him seeing what’smine.That fucking settles it. I squeeze tighter around his throat, restricting his air until he becomes unconscious. Then, just for the hell of it, I kick him hard in the side, hearing a rib or two break.

Spinning around, I look at the love of my life, who has wrapped the sheet around her naked form. “Get dressed,” I bark. When she arches an eyebrow, I soften my voice and add, “Please.”

I fucking marvel when a smile spreads on her face. This woman has been my rock in the hospital, passed the family test with flying colors, and then been to hell and back, all of it happening within a span of three days.

Yet, she fucking smiles.

I thought I knew what strength was before knowing her, but now I know that isn’t true. She’s strength personified, and I’m lucky to even be in her presence. While I ponder that, I drag the intruder into the kitchen, which is closer than the room I usually reserve for torturing people.

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