Chapter 179
Chapter 179
The room still smelled like danger.
Not gunpowder or blood—though the night had seen both—but of Damien. Of the heat he left behind, the rage he kept caged beneath his skin, the possessive burn in his voice when he’d told Siena he wasn’t losing her again.
Siena paced the length of the dimly lit suite, fingers pressed to her lips, her breaths sharp with the adrenaline still coiling through her blood. Every step made her nerves thrum. Every thought returned to the same truth:
She had almost died tonight.
And Damien had nearly torn the world apart because of it.
Her body still vibrated from the echo of his hands on her hips when he’d checked her for injuries—rough, frantic, reverent. A dangerous combination. One that had stirred heat low in her belly even as her lungs stuttered with fear.
She hated that he affected her this way.
She hated that she wanted him more because of it.
The door clicked open.
Damien stepped inside, shoulders broad and tense, a storm coiled behind his eyes. Blood marked the sleeve of his shirt—someone else’s—but he didn’t seem to notice or care. His gaze went straight to Siena as if she were the only point of gravity in the room.
“You’re pacing,” he said quietly.
“You’re bleeding.”
“Not mine.”
“It still bothers me.”
He closed the distance between them in three long strides. “Then come here.”
Siena froze. “Damien—”
His fingers caught her wrist, gentle but unyielding, pulling her into him. The moment her body pressed to his, her breath caught. He was heat and muscle and controlled fury, and every inch of him felt too real after the night’s chaos.
“Don’t do that again,” he murmured into her hair.
“Do what?”
“Scare me.”
Her chest tightened. Damien Voss didn’t get scared. Damien Voss terrified others.
But his hand shook where it cupped the side of her neck.
She swallowed. “I didn’t plan on getting attacked in the first place.”
“I should’ve been there sooner.”
“You were there exactly when I needed you.”
His jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue. Not this time. Instead, he brushed his thumb along her cheek, slow and careful, as if relearning the shape of her.
Then his mouth touched hers.
Soft. Testing. A question rather than a command.
Siena melted before she meant to. The kiss deepened instantly, his hand sliding to the small of her back, pulling her against the hardness of his body. She gasped, and he took the sound into him, lips claiming, tongue tasting, need pouring through him like wildfire.
She whispered against his mouth, “Damien…”
He lifted her without warning. She wrapped around him—legs around his waist, arms around his neck—as he carried her to the wall and pressed her back against it, devouring her like he’d spent years starving.
“This,” he growled into her throat, lips dragging along her pulse, “is the only thing tonight that felt right.”
His hand slid beneath her shirt, rough palm meeting bare skin. Siena shivered violently, fingers tightening in his hair.
“I almost lost you,” he said, voice low, raw. “I’m done pretending I can stay away.”
Before she could answer, he kissed her again—harder this time, hunger overtaking restraint.
Siena tugged his shirt open, buttons scattering. His body was all sculpted lines and heat, muscles shifting beneath her fingertips. Damien let out a breath that sounded like surrender when she touched his chest, his hips pressing into hers, his need undeniable.
Her voice trembled. “Damien, we shouldn’t—”
“We’re not stopping.”
“Someone could hear—”
“I don’t care.”
She didn’t either—not when his mouth traced fire down her collarbone, not when his hands guided her with reverence and urgency, not when her own desire surged uncontrollably.
His lips returned to hers, claiming, consuming. She arched into him as he slid his hand between them, fingertips teasing the heat already pooling there.
Her breath broke. “Damien—”
“Say you want me.”
She shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t.
But tonight had ripped every mask away, and desire had always been the truth neither could outrun.
“I want you,” she whispered.
A curse fell from his lips—dark, worshipful.
In one swift movement, he freed her from her clothes, then himself, skin against skin, heat against heat. He pressed his forehead to hers, breath shaking, control fraying at the edges.
“I’ll be gentle,” he murmured.
“No.” She grabbed his jaw. “Don’t be.”
His eyes darkened. And then he wasn’t gentle at all.
He pushed into her in one slow, devastating stroke, and Siena gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. Damien groaned against her mouth, body shuddering deeply, every muscle tight as he held himself still, letting her adjust.
“Damn it,” he breathed. “You feel—fuck—Siena…”
She kissed him fiercely, answering his need with her own. That was all it took for him to snap.
His movements were powerful, controlled but intense, each thrust sending tremors through her body. He held her up effortlessly, one arm beneath her thighs, the other gripping the back of her head to keep her lips against his. Their breaths tangled, their moans swallowed by each other’s mouths.
Heat built fast, overwhelming. Siena clung to him, the friction, the pressure, the raw intensity of his desire drawing her higher.
Her whisper broke into a cry. “Damien—I’m—”
“I’ve got you,” he rasped. “Come for me.”
The world shattered.
Her climax tore through her like lightning, ripping a sound from her she couldn’t contain. Damien followed instantly, groaning deeply, his body pressing her hard into the wall as pleasure shook through him.
For a moment, the room was nothing but breath and heartbeat and the aftershock of something too big, too real, too dangerous to deny.
He lowered her slowly, keeping her close, forehead resting against hers. Neither spoke. They didn’t need to.
But then—
A sharp beep cut through the quiet.
Damien stiffened. His head turned toward the small, discreet device embedded in the wall panel near the suite’s door—a device Siena hadn’t noticed before.
The red light was blinking.
“What is that?” she whispered.
Damien’s entire body went cold.
“That,” he said, voice dropping to a lethal calm, “means someone bypassed the building’s security.”
The light blinked faster.
A second alert sounded—a deeper, angrier tone.
Siena clutched his arm. “Damien—”
His eyes lifted to meet hers, dark and unreadable… and then the room’s emergency shutters slammed down with a violent metallic crash.
The entire suite plunged into red security lighting.
Damien shoved her behind him instantly, grabbing the weapon hidden beneath the bedside drawer.
He hissed under his breath, “They’re already inside.”
The door exploded.
And five masked men stormed in.
Damien moved—fast, lethal—but Siena’s scream ripped through the room as one of the intruders raised a gun and aimed directly at her.
The last thing she heard was Damien shouting her name—
Before the shot fired.