"I don't know," I admitted finally, the words barely audible. "That's the worst part. They took her, and I never saw her again. She could be dead. She could be alive somewhere. I just... don't know."
Vincent's hand tightened around mine. "And that's why you can't forgive yourself."
It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.
"Not knowing is its own kind of torture," he said quietly. "It denies you closure. Keeps the wound perpetually open."
"I've looked for her," I confessed. "For years, whenever I could. Used every resource the Pantheon had. But there was never any trace."
Vincent shifted closer, his free hand coming up to cup my face. The tenderness of the gesture nearly undid me. "Thank you for telling me about her."
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Vincent didn't push for more. He simply held my hand, his presence a silent comfort in the darkness.
After a while, he gently tugged me back down to lie beside him. I went willingly, too emotionally exhausted to resist. He arranged usso that my head rested on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. His fingers combed gently through my hair, the rhythmic motion gradually calming my still-racing heart.
"Sleep if you can," he murmured. "I'll keep watch this time."
What a twisted reversal: the target protecting the assassin. But as Vincent's fingers continued their gentle path through my hair, I found my eyes growing heavy. The nightmare lingered at the edges of my consciousness, but it couldn't quite reach me here, held safely in Vincent's arms.
For the first time in decades, I allowed myself to be vulnerable. To be comforted. To let someone else be strong when I couldn't. It should have terrified me. Instead, it felt like finally putting down a weight I'd carried for too long.
My last conscious thought before sleep claimed me was that Ana would have liked Vincent. She always did have better judgment than me.
I woke to wetheat engulfing me, drawing me from sleep into immediate, overwhelming pleasure. My eyes flew open to find Luka between my legs, his mouth working my cock with devastating skill. My hips bucked involuntarily, drawing a pleased hum from him that vibrated through my entire body.
"Luka," I gasped, still disoriented from the abrupt transition from sleep to intense arousal. "What are you—"
He pulled off with an obscene pop, looking up at me with those dangerous blue eyes, his lips glistening and swollen. "Wanted breakfast," he said with a wicked grin before lowering his head again, taking me deeper.
My head fell back against the pillow as his tongue found that sensitive spot just beneath the head. Rational thought evaporated like mist under a blowtorch. The sight of Luka Aleksandar—professional assassin, trained killer—between my thighs, head bobbing, sent blood rushing south so fast I grewlightheaded.
"Jesus Christ," I breathed, one hand tangling in his hair while the other gripped the sheets hard enough to tear. The stubble on his jaw scraped deliciously against my inner thighs, adding a sharp counterpoint to the velvet heat of his mouth.
I'd had exactly three blow jobs in my life, all perfunctory, all disappointing. None of them had prepared me for the way Luka used his entire mouth, his hands, his voice, all working in tandem to demolish any semblance of control I might have maintained.
His hands slid beneath me, gripping my ass to adjust the angle, taking me even deeper. The muscles in my thighs quivered with the effort of not thrusting up into that perfect heat. When I dared to glance down again, I nearly came on the spot. Luka's eyes were locked on mine as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, the intensity of his gaze making it clear who was in control despite his position.
"Not going to last," I warned, tugging at his hair. "Luka, I'm going to—"
He responded by doubling his efforts, one slick finger sliding lower to press teasingly against my entrance without breaching. The dual stimulation pushed me over the edge. My back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over me. Luka swallowed everything, continuing to work me through the aftershocks until I was gasping from oversensitivity.
When he finally pulled away, he looked thoroughly pleased with himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a gesture that shouldn't have been hot but absolutely was.
"Good morning to you too," I managed once I could form words again.
"Best part of waking up," Luka replied, crawling up my body to press a kiss against my lips. I tasted myself on his tongue, a strangely intimate exchange that made something flip in my stomach.
As he pulled back, I caught sight of his hard cock against his boxers, the outline of those intriguing metal bars visible through the thin fabric. Before I could overthink it, I flipped our positions, pressing him back against the mattress.
"My turn," I said, surprised by my own boldness as I slid down his body.
His eyebrows shot up, but he didn't stop me. "By all means, doc. Show me what you've got."
I tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free. Despite having caught glimpses before, seeing those ladder piercings up close was something else entirely. Six metal bars ran up the underside of his shaft in perfect spacing, gleaming in the morning light. The modification should have looked intimidating, but instead I found it fascinating, almost beautiful in its dangerous complexity. Much like Luka himself.
"Like what you see?" he asked, voice rough with desire as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch me.
"It's... impressive," I admitted, wrapping my hand around him experimentally. The metal bars created interesting ridges against my palm, and Luka's sharp intake of breath told me they were sensitive.
