Page 88 of Knuckles & Knives
Me.
“Shower first,” I tell him, noting the blood and grime from our battle. “Then we’ll take care of what you need.”
But Dom shakes his head, his dark eyes burning with something beyond rational thought. “Can’t wait. Need you now.”
The raw honesty in his voice breaks something loose in my chest. This isn’t just post-battle adrenaline—this is Dom’s fundamental need to confirm that I’m safe, alive, his. The violence he unleashed in my defense has left him operating on pure instinct, and that instinct demands physical confirmation that I’m unharmed.
“Here?” I ask, gesturing to the industrial space around us.
“Don’t care,” he growls, stepping closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his powerful frame. “Just need to touch you. Need to know you’re real.”
His massive hands frame my face with surprising gentleness, thumbs tracing my cheekbones as if memorizing their contours. The contrast between this tender touch and the brutal efficiency he displayed hours earlier sends electricity racing through my veins.
“I’m here,” I assure him. “Safe. Alive. Yours.”
The last word breaks his control completely.
Dom’s mouth crashes against mine with desperate hunger, his kiss tasting of adrenaline and victory and something deeper that I recognize as love stripped of all civilized pretense. His hands roam my body with possessive need, confirming that every inch of me remains unmarked by our enemies.
“You were perfect out there,” I whisper against his lips. “Absolutely perfect.”
He groans at the praise, his powerful body trembling with barely contained need. “Everything I did was for you. To protect you. To keep you safe.”
“I know,” I breathe, my hands working at his tactical vest, needing to touch the warm skin beneath. “And now I’m going to show you exactly how much I appreciate your protection.”
What follows is primal and desperate and absolutely necessary—Dom’s need to claim me as thoroughly as he claimed victory over our enemies, my need to reward the devotion he demonstrated through violence. We move together with the same coordination that made us deadly in battle, every touch calculated to drive the other beyond rational thought.
When we finally collapse together, sweat-slicked and breathing hard, Dom’s arms wrap around me with the fierce protectiveness that defines him. I can feel his heartbeat slowing against my chest, the adrenaline finally beginning to ebb.
“Better?” I ask quietly.
“Getting there,” he admits, pressing his face into my hair. “Give me a few hours and I’ll be functional again.”
“Take all the time you need,” I tell him. “You’ve earned it.”
In the growing light of dawn, surrounded by the scent of victory and the warm strength of my enforcer, I allow myself a moment of perfect satisfaction. We’ve struck the first major blow against Sterling’s empire, rescued innocent lives, and proven that our unlikely alliance can function under the ultimate pressure.
But more than that, I’ve confirmed something fundamental about the men I’ve chosen to stand beside me. When pushed to their limits, when forced to choose between self-preservation and protecting me, they don’t hesitate.
They choose me. Always.
And that knowledge is more intoxicating than any victory we could win in battle.
CHAPTER 27
The secure phone in Kieran’s jacket starts buzzing at exactly 6:47 AM, its insistent tone cutting through the post-battle quiet of our safe house. I watch from across the room as his ice-blue eyes shift from satisfaction to wariness, recognizing the ringtone that means family business.
“Uncle Charles,” he says, answering with the kind of polished professionalism that comes from years of Sterling Syndicate training. “Rather early for a social call.”
Even from ten feet away, I can hear the fury in Charles Sterling’s voice bleeding through the phone’s speaker. Kieran’s face goes carefully blank as he listens, his free hand unconsciously straightening his cufflinks—the tell that means he’s processing information that could destroy everything we’ve built.
“I see,” Kieran says finally, his voice giving nothing away. “And you’re certain about the timeline?”
More shouting from the other end.
Dom looks up from cleaning his weapons, his dark eyes narrowing as he reads the tension in Kieran’s posture. Axel stops his restless pacing, and Marcus’s fingers pause over his laptopkeyboard. We all recognize the moment when careful plans begin unraveling.
“No, Uncle. I understand completely.” Kieran’s tone remains perfectly controlled, but I catch the slight tremor in his voice that means his world is shifting beneath his feet. “I’ll be there within the hour.”
