Page 113 of Impenitent Claim

Especially when his hand slid around the back of my neck, that reassuring touch tangling in my hair. Ilya bent over me, pressinghis lips against my throat. He held me in place, taking his time to taste every inch of me.

“My sweet Izzy, such a good fucking girl,” he said hotly as he sucked on the sensitive skin under my ear.

I knew exactly what to say. The words poured from my heart. “You know how to make me feel so good, phantom.”

A feral, predatorial roar rumbled through his chest. I felt it run through my body as he fucked me straight into a release.

As my muscles tightened around him, pleasure sizzling through every fiber of my body, Ilya reached for one of my breasts, squeezing it roughly. It only served to strengthen the release.

“Fuck, Izzy,” he groaned, the thrusts growing frantic as he drove into my spasming pussy.

The spectre shuddered, groaned, and with one more hard thrust, buried himself in me. His cock throbbed inside me, spilling into me with hot ropes. I clung to him, body humming with the silvery hot rush that only this phantasmal being could give me.

We remained locked together, staring and unblinking, as the intimacy of the primal act pulsed around us. Just two monsters, lucky enough to have found one another in the dark.

Chapter 42 – Ilya

As the fashionable guests left the ball early, I watched my siren depart with her jailers for the last time. I disappeared into the night to walk amongst the ghouls and goblins roaming the earth. When the appointed hour struck, the grim reaper followed me through the dark and urged me onward as I infiltrated the home of my next target. A trail of dead bodies marked my path into the interior.

Isabella said she had a bad feeling about the underboss’s son on multiple occasions, and tonight, she’d been ready to end him. My beautiful rusalka—I should have let her.

Unfortunately, the son wasn’t home yet, or he would already be dead. No matter. I would hunt him as soon as I ended the father.

During the induction training for the mafia, I discovered some interesting bits of information about both father and son from my handler. It seemed Christophoro wasn’t Tullio’s biggest fan. The older soldier had been extremely loyal to the late don, and only remained in town to watch over the true heir, as he calledthe brother Giovanni. Isabella was right to worry about the Fabrizis.

Pushing into the bedroom, I whispered about the room, making short work of my preparations. As I worked, I smiled knowing that Isabella wouldn’t have to worry about this rotten soul again. Once I was good and ready, precautions in place, I ripped back the covers.

“Time to settle your accounts, Signor Fabrizi,” I growled, tapping him on the side of the cheek. The accent I so carefully suppressed now came out to conceal my identity. It didn’t matter if the underboss knew it was me, his prized cage fighter, but I would be the one to choose when to reveal myself. Ideally, the moment before Tullio drew his last breath. Perhaps, I enjoyed the role of monster in the dark a little too much.

Head thick with wine, he was slow to crawl from the dreams that filled his night. He blinked at me, trying and failing to grasp reality. It was said that the hour between three and four was cursed. For the obnoxious Italian man, it certainly seemed that way.

When he finally realized this wasn’t the land of nod, Tullio sat up in bed with a hoarse bellow. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?!”

I smirked, cocking my head to the side. “Do you remember, about this time last year, staging a coup with your son and seven now conveniently dead mafia soldiers?”

Tulio bellowed, diving under his pillow for his gun. He brandished it with a flourish. “Put your hands in the air, whoever you are.”

Sighing, I obliged. “You don’t deserve the courtesy after what you did to Signor and Signora Rinaldi, but tell you what, I’m in a good mood tonight. So I’ll give you one chance to escape. Make it afairfight.” It was messed up that these same words were aparroted memory of my old commander in Russia. “How fast are you, old man? I suggest you start running.”

“The fuck?” he wheezed, brandishing his weapon. “Who the hell sent you? No one knows that shit.”

“Because you killed your lackeys who helped pull the coup,” I said dryly. “So much for loyalty in the mafia. But you’re not liked, are you, Tullio? That’s why they passed over you for Aldo Bruno. They might not be able to confirm you ended the Rinaldis, but they suspect. That plus your lack of popularity means you’ll never be don.”

“Who’s been talking?” Tullio flourished the gun. “Hmm? Give me a name, and I’ll make your death quick.”

I took a step forward, enjoying the older man's flinch. “And you’re wasting precious time on theatrics. I saidrun, signore.”

“Theatrics?” he hissed, aiming at my knee and pulling the trigger.

The firing pin released dry, the sound of the empty chamber echoing through the room.

“Happy now?” I swept my arm, the bullets jingling in my pocket. “Door’s that way.”

Tullio blinked. Idiot that he was, he still wasn’t running. No…he was trying to see through the mask on my face. “Who are you?”

“The man who disabled your security, broke into your house, killed your guards, and now is offering you one chance to run,” I said irritably. “Tick-tock, old man.”

He still didn’t move!

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