Vengeance (4 page)

Azriel had every intention of taking Michelene to his beach house. It was both secluded and beautiful, a perfect place for him to get to know this woman thoroughly. At least, he’d intended it when he had first started to march her toward his car. Before that, he hadn’t really planned on anything at all, which was completely out of character for him. When it came to this woman, nothing about his actions were rational or within his usual routine. It was fucking unnerving. This morning he’d only set out to continue his surveillance. After a sleepless night bombarded by a craving so deep it made him shake, one he failed to understand, he’d decided to kill the thin, sickly guy who’d been following her and move on. It would’ve been the ideal solution aside from killing her.

Gone was the irritation he’d experienced waking up to a rigid cock in his hand, the final vestiges of her ghost fading with the dawn. Since fucking when did he masturbate? Let alone in his sleep? Azriel didn’t dream. Not ever. Why was this woman invading his rest? Yet, despite his determination to end this obsession, he’d seen her and all those things he’d planned to do vanished. One look and he knew this was never going to end for him. She would always be on his mind. So he took her.

There wouldn’t be the long drive to his beach house. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t last that long without feeling her skin, kissing those fucking addictive lips. As it was, his cock throbbed so hard it hurt, aching to be inside her. Another in a long line of firsts. Kissing her so soon had been a serious misstep. The need to taste her more deeply rode him hard.

His uptown apartment would have to do. The security was stellar, though not as intricate as at the beach house, but that was okay. Other than her stalker, who would give a shit he had taken her? As far as he could tell she had no one. Well, before now she’d had no one. Instinct still had him taking the back entrance to the high rise. The valet would’ve been faster, and speed was of the essence, yet he couldn’t shake the need to keep her his little secret. His determination didn’t supercede his requirement for privacy.

Haphazardly parking his car as close to the elevator as he could, he hustled her out of the vehicle and onto the polished stainless steel lift with more force than he’d intended. But not so much that he’d apologize. After stuffing the key into the lock that would allow the elevator to take them to the top floor, he whirled on her, pushing her against the gleaming surface of the back wall. How small she seemed against his admittedly much larger than average frame. The top of her head barely cleared the bottom of his chest. Petite she might be, but that body was nothing short of lush. Like a pagan fertility goddess, she was built to carry his seed.

Shit
! Did he seriously just have that thought? What the fuck was wrong with him?

In a fit of anger, he wrapped a broad hand around her delicate throat, but he didn’t squeeze. He couldn’t. The smartest thing he could do was kill her and just be done with it all. Complications like this were a death sentence for him—and eventually her. Only the logical part of his brain couldn’t get the rest of him to agree on jack shit. Even knowing she could change him—that she already had—couldn’t make him turn back now. This was a change he was ill prepared for. God, would he survive her? Or would they both burn to ash in an inferno of their own making?

Clear, carob-colored eyes watched him without worry. Generally he struck fear in his fellow man, but not her. Her gaze was calm, waiting for him to make up his mind. Holy hell, this woman was far from the innocent he had thought her to be. Even though he saw she recognized him for the predator he was, she had zero fear of him. Why the fuck not?

“Who the fuck
are
you?” He’d been wrong before. It did matter who she was and where she’d been.

Azriel had seen humanity in every form there was, but he had never stumbled across an enigma such as she. There really was some innocence there in her face, in her actions, but he knew instinctively she was far from innocent. There was also a purity about her, yet she was sexuality incarnate. On the surface she appeared calm as still water. However, there was a slight catch in her breathing, an excitement she couldn’t hide. Her nipples were hard little pebbles pushing against the utilitarian uniform she wore. Yeah, there was a whirlpool under that surface, just waiting to suck him in.

Damned if wasn’t going willingly.

“Michelene Brown-Cadeau.” The clear but softly spoken response reached out and smacked him dead across his skull.

What the hell had he done?

***

Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell had made her admit that? This man, this Azriel lived in the shadow world she’d been born into. That had been obvious at first sight. Actually, she’d known it when she first sensed his presence. Foolishly she’d felt safe enough in her disguise. So why would she go ahead and volunteer information that could very well mean her death? All because, for some unknown reason, she trusted him.

Against all reasoning, she had just placed her life in his hands fully expecting that he would keep her safe. Maybe some part of her was just tired of merely existing. Maybe she was daring fate. No, she knew the truth. For whatever reason, her soul had recognized him from the beginning. This man would never hurt her. He was her salvation.

“There’s a bounty on your pretty little head.” Her pulse jumped as his finger lazily stroked the column of her neck. His words sunk in, but much like that hand they were no threat to her. He wouldn’t be the one to turn her over. For one thing, he didn’t need the reward. This was no bounty hunter—he was an assassin, and she was wanted alive.

“I suspect there is.” She smiled. Inside she gloated,
You won’t be collecting it, will you?

“Too bad for the people looking for you,” he growled. “You’re mine now.”

Of course she was. She always had been.

Opulence she’d seen before; elegance was nothing new. Michelene wasn’t sure which one she’d been expecting on the ride to the top floor. One was often displayed by the nouveau riche to impress, while the other was the result of old money and good breeding. Azriel could’ve easily been the latter, but she couldn’t be sure.

His apartment, however, was neither opulent nor elegant. This may have been one of the most exclusive buildings in the city, and this was certainly the penthouse, but the place itself was spartan at best. It really didn’t look like anyone lived here at all. Minimal in decorations with absolutely no personality, the entire apartment was black, gray and white. It left a person cold.

There was little time to take it all in, however. Azriel marched her through the front rooms, up a carved metal staircase, into a bedroom that took up the entire top floor. No, two-thirds of the top floor. A third was the bathroom, which was their apparent destination. The bathroom should’ve screamed luxury. A bathtub big enough for at least three adult bodies took up one side of the space, a huge shower with shower jets in the front, the back and at the sides looked bigger than the bathroom in her apartment. Of course there was a water closet, which was also quite spacious. The double sink took up a complete wall. The other was completely made of glass looking over the lights of the city and the Pacific Ocean beyond.

Yeah, it should’ve been luxurious, if only it had any kind of decoration or personal touches. It looked mostly unused. There was one cup containing a single toothbrush next to one brush on the sink counter. Other than that, it was spotless. Lifeless. If she hadn’t been sure before, seeing this apartment confirmed Azriel was exactly what she thought he was. A killer. This was probably one of many places whee he crashed whenever he was in town.

“Shit!” The sound of his very real irritation made her jump. Thus far he hadn’t shown much emotion. Lust, maybe—even impatience at times. Now he looked at her, looked at the bathtub, then looked back at her. Wow, he looked equal parts frustrated and unsure. That was
…
surprising.

“Take off your clothes,” he groused, obviously displeased about something. And still unsure. What was that about? She was here—she wasn’t struggling or complaining.

Not waiting to see whether or not she’d actually do as she’d been told, he stomped over to turn on the shower, then adjusted the water temperature. Okay, wow, so apparently that meant her Eau de Diner cologne really wasn’t working for him. Not that she blamed him really—the stench of that place tended to sink in deep despite her best efforts to ward it off. It was just that wetting her hair was problematic seeing as how she didn’t have any kind of products to tame her wild natural curls. And she didn’t have a stitch to wear after the shower, though she figured she probably wouldn’t be wearing anything other than him. Delicious prospect, one that made her tingle in all the right places.

But the hair
…

“I won’t get your hair wet.” Holy crap, he actually smiled when he said that. And not that sardonic asshole grin he had back in the diner. This was gentle, comforting even. It made him look like a real person instead of some deadly, beautiful Terminator robot. “We will get you whatever you need
…
later. But you’re not going back downtown to that rathole you called yourself living in. Ever.” Fine by her, but she liked where this was going so she decided not to interrupt. “I forbid you to deny yourself any longer. No one will hurt you as long as you’re with me, except for me, and I don’t plan on letting you go.”

Boy, did he ever have no idea what the hell he was declaring there. But his words made her shiver with delicious anticipation. Maybe she should’ve been scared by that “except for me” bit, but it sounded downright decadent. Maybe she wanted to hurt a little. Maybe she would like it.

No, she would love it.

Still, she was female. Being such, it was just in her nature to test a mate making promises. “So, now you want to hurt me?” Tugging down the front zipper of the god-awful diner uniform, the offensive garment dropped to the floor. Toeing off the sensible service shoes, she shimmied out of the heavy-duty nylons she was forced to wear even in the worst summer heat. Her hands paused at the clasp of her bra, however. Pouting, she shot him her very best puppy-dog look. “I haven’t done anything. I’m a good girl.”

Where the fuck was all this coming from? Michelene didn’t have a clue. It was far from the most daring thing she’d ever done, but teasing a hitman was just not bright. Yet instinct demanded it. And she was rewarded with a look of abject confusion.

But really she was a good girl, more or less. At least she’d pretended to be for the last four years, so she was pretty sure some of it must’ve rubbed off. Probably not though; she was all too aware there was no such thing as innocence in the world she’d come from. The mud got on you no matter who you were.

Then that look of confusion that had so recently crossed his face was gone. Maybe she shouldn’t have teased him. In a blink he was on her, forcing the bra up over her head, fully clasped. The panties were literally ripped off leaving her naked, shivering and so fucking turned on it hurt. Lifting her by the ass, he walked her into the shower. H hadn't bothered to remove his own clothes.

***

Azriel liked to think he was doing just fine holding his shit together, but she had to go and tease him. The matter-of-fact way she disrobed before she got to the bra and panties part had pushed him further than any attempted sensual striptease ever could. But goddamn that “I’m a good girl” bullshit did him in. He had no idea what the hell she was, but a good girl wasn’t it. Still, he seriously doubted she understood how bad she could be, how bad he was going to make her be.

The brief flash in her eyes when he first told her to take off her clothes told him she thought she stunk. The smell of a greasy diner didn’t offend him; it was where she worked. What offended him down to his very soul was that she had to work at all. That she had to run and hide. This woman shouldn’t ever smell like overused grease and bad food. She should be pampered, perfumed and petted constantly. The shower, which he wished like hell could’ve been a hot bubble bath, was meant to wash away the last four years of her life. Yes, he was very well aware of how long she’d been missing, but he didn’t know why she had chosen to run. No one did. He knew that was four long hard years of bullshit living he wanted to cleanse her of. Wash away the very memory of Gladys and whoever else she’d pretended to be.

A goddamn crime-family princess living in the worst part of the city her family ran was a crime against nature. From what Azriel knew, her father had been a Haitian specializing in running drugs and women from all over the Caribbean, South and Central America and the West Coast of Africa. After his death from mysterious circumstances when Michelene was a child, her mother May Brown, now referred to as Madam Brown, took over the reins, folding them into her own operatins of weapons trafficking, prostitution, and porn businesses. Oh, and she sold very young women to the highest bidder.

Azriel had just been starting out when Pierre Cadeau had died, leaving a very lucrative, legitimate job he’d held until the day his parents were cremated. He remembered hearing about the family, about the little girl and boy left behind to a cold bitch of a woman. But Madam Brown grew that business to become a serious player. She was offering a good-sized fortune for her daughter’s return. It sucked no one was going to claim that bounty, because Azriel was not about to give her up, the sassy little minx.

With more force than he’d originally intended, he scrubbed her body with his hands. He could’ve used a washcloth—maybe he should’ve—but he wanted to feel her skin underneath his hands. Every inch was methodically cleansed with his basic bar of soap. Fuck, but her skin was soft! Only the clothes he still had on were keeping him from taking her right there and then. How was a grown man supposed to hold it together listening to the quiet moans slipping past her lips as his hands worked the muscles of her neck, back, arms and legs? Just that small sign of appreciation had him paying special attention to those areas, kneading until she was lax under his hands. Soon he was going to have to move on to her breasts, and sweet Holy Mother, her ass, and even better, the place he wanted to be worse than a crackhead needed a rock, that pussy.

He was actually trembling a bit as he cupped the generous mounds on her chest. Such generous breasts; they filed his grip to overfilling. Fuck, they felt so good! The caress he was giving her now had nothing to do with cleansing or relieving tension. Now he worked her flesh for pure pleasure.

“I’ve wanted to touch you like this since I first laid eyes on you,” he surprised himself by whispering in her ear. It was something he’d never even admitted to himself until today. Biting softly on her ear, he rolled her nipples between his fingertips. Goddamn, but she was responsive. When she arched her back, her ass pushed back against the erection pushing against his slacks. “Now I get to touch you as often as I want.”

And that was going to be very often. Reluctantly he had to let her breasts go, however. There was so much more to get to. Allowing one hand to drift down her soft, gently rounded belly, he pressed between her thighs. The slippery moisture he found inside her pussy had nothing to do with the sprays of water washing over their bodies. Pressing his finger hard against her clit, he used his foot to force her legs open, then pushed his fingers deep inside her cunt.

Damn, she was tight! Barely able to work two fingers inside her, Azriel started to pant. She was going to choke the shit out of his dick. That wasn’t going to stop him. He had to have to her. He needed to take her with a drive he couldn’t begin to put into words.

“Come for me, baby,” he demanded. “Show me what a good girl you really are.”

With broken cry, that's exactly what she did. Her body tensed, her pussy spasming wildly against his finger. Fuck, that was sweet! He couldn't wait to make her do that again. And again. Ass many fucking times as he could manage beore they both collasped into a mindless heep.