Taming Seraphine

SERAPHINE

Leroi helps me scramble to my feet at the first crack of gunfire, and I yank up my leggings and panties. My breath stills. The noise is coming from the direction of the nearest estate, even though I can barely see its walls through the dense trees.

In a blur of synchronized movements, Leroi extracts his pistol, scoops me to his chest and fires back at the shooter in a sprint. Clinging to his shoulders, I glance around for signs of an attacker, but he’s moving too quickly through the trees for a clear enough view.

Palpitations thrash through my heart. Both at the prospect of being hit, but at the thought that what Leroi said might be true.

Could he truly belong to me? This devastatingly attractive older man with his perfect life, perfect control? It hardly seems possible.

“Head down,” Leroi says, his voice low and urgent.

With a squeak, I tuck my head into his chest. The last time Leroi carried me like this, it was out of Dad’s mansion. Now, he’s become more than my rescuer or even my protector. Leroi is my lover.

He zigs zags, using tree trunks as cover until the gunshots finally stop. He keeps hold of his pistol long after the last bullet, but his grip on me relaxes.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Fine.”

“Looks like we’re safe for now,” he says, his lips brushing my brow.

“Was that another hitman?”

He hesitates several seconds before answering. “Hard to say.”

I look over my shoulder in the direction he’s carrying me and find his black SUV parked off the road, right beside a large boulder. Sunlight shines off its polished surface and bounces off the pieces of broken glass strewn across the tarmac.

“What’s that?” I point at the shattered glass.

“Smashed headlight.” He jogs across the road, flings the passenger side door open, and deposits me into the front seat. The airbags have deflated, coating the car’s interior with powder.

After sliding into the driver’s side, he pulls out onto the road and drives away with a screech of tires.

I stare at his profile, now knowing better than to distract him while he’s speeding through the twisting roads of Alderney Hill. My ass still smarts from the spanking, and my pussy aches from getting pounded.

It’s only once we reach a straight stretch that he takes his eyes off the road and turns to meet my gaze. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Are you?”

He snorts, reaches into the back seat, and tosses a sweater into my lap. “Getting shot at is part of the job. I’m more worried about you.”

“It was exciting.” I pull the garment over my head and fold back its arms.

Leroi turns to me, his brow raised. “Getting chased through the woods and brutally fucked or escaping an asshole with a gun?”

“All of it,” I reply with a shrug. “I was with you, so I knew I’d be safe.”

Smirking, he shakes his head and focuses back on the road. “You are something else.”

I relax in my seat and watch him drive. The muscles on Leroi’s forearms flex as he grips the steering wheel with his large hands. I lick my lips, my gaze wandering back to his profile and to the arteries running down his neck.

My tongue runs along the back of my teeth, wanting to trace each of those large vessels to see if I can taste blood.I’d like to trace the veins on his thick shaft, too.

“When are you going to let me give you a blow job?” I ask.

He chokes, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “What?”

“You heard me.”

He peers out at me out of the corner of his eye. “Not a chance.”

“But I’m really good at it?” I snap my teeth.

He huffs a laugh. “Behave.”

I sink into my seat and pout. “You think I’m going to bite it off.”

“You may not be able to control yourself,” he says, the corner of Leroi’s mouth lifting into a smirk. “My cock is really tasty.”

“Now I want to try it even more.”

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he asks.

“I’m nice!”

He laughs. It’s a deep, rich sound that makes my heart flutter. When he glances across the front seat at me, I’m awestruck at the way his smile accentuates his masculine beauty. When he’s brooding, the harsh angles of his features are almost intimidating, but when he smiles, it’s like the sun coming out after a storm.

“Don’t ever change, Seraphine.”

My brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

He takes my hand and traces a circle over my skin with his thumb. The heat of his touch makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight.

“You’re wonderful just the way you are.”

“Even if I’m reckless?”

“It’s part of your charm,” he murmurs. “Something I didn’t appreciate until now.”

I shift in my seat. “Maybe remember that the next time you spank me because my ass is raw.”

Leroi’s chuckle is as addictive as Belgian chocolate. It makes me want to misbehave more often so I can hear it again. He pulls our joined hands up to his lips and presses a kiss against my knuckles.

“After we’ve found Gabriel, eliminated Samson, and killed the next two men on your list, I’m going to take you somewhere private and show you just how much I appreciate that smart mouth.”

He turns off the highway and to a motel that’s tucked away from the roadside. It’s a single-story building with a pristine white facade and window boxes filled with pink flowers.

“What’s this?” I ask.

He reverses into a parking space. “Mike Ferrante lives close by. We’ll rest up here and pay him a visit later when his wife starts her shift at the hospital.”

My pulse quickens, and my skin tightens at the memory of a sandy-haired man with a bald spot slapping Mom across the face with a part of his anatomy I plan on removing.

“How do you know their schedule?” I ask.

“Miko.”

He opens the car door and jogs toward the motel office, leaving me staring at his broad back. All thoughts of the fun we had in the woods evaporates, leaving my mind filled with images of those monsters surrounding Mom. At some point in the future, I plan on finding the ones lucky enough to have died before we could hunt them down and desecrate their graves.

Leroi returns a few minutes later and opens the passenger side door, letting in the sound of traffic and a gust of cool air that snaps me out of my thoughts.

As I climb out, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his warmth. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll do something about your bruises.”

He opens the door to the room. It’s cleaner than I would have expected and completely free from the musty odors I always found to linger when I killed targets in hotels and motels. There are two double beds with white sheets, a small kitchenette, and a bathroom.

After pressing a kiss on the top of my head, he darts out through the front door and returns moments later, holding a leather bag. “Let’s soak in the whirlpool and then I’ll see to the welts on your ass.”

I step back, my heart swelling. The last time we had sex, he gave me a bath and wrapped me in towels like I was precious. Now he wants to tend to my wounds.

No one could be this perfect. Can they?