Page 65 of One Winter Knight
“Well, yeah. Who else would you be an assassin for? Well, the military? But I feel like that’s kinda the same thing,” I replied. “You feel moresuper-secret superspythanmilitary sharpshooter,not that I know anyone who’s either. Except for you.”
She laughed. “Me. Work for the government? I’m anassassin. I work for money. While I’m sure some are arseholes, some might have simply angered the wrong person, saw something they shouldn’t, or owe too much money. Shite, can I tell you how many cheating alphas I’ve offed?”
“That seems like a good thing. So, you don’t work for the government?” Oh. Her being a contract killer had never dawned on me.
“No.” She tried to get past me, and I blocked her with my body.
“You’re mafia, then? Irish mafia?” Not that I knew much about them. Though there was a mafia presence in New York. I was pretty sure they owned an Italian deli that made these amazing meatball sandwiches and black and white cookies that were better than my mamma’s. Though I’d never, ever tell her that.
Not to mention some telenovelas were cartel-funded. Especially when cartel wives wanted to be stars.
“They wish. We’re much scarier than the mafia. I work for whoever pays me the most.” Her eyes met mine. “Not for the greater good. Not for national security. For my wallet.” She fired every word at my chest like her mouth was a machine gun. Her brandy scent grew spicy with anger but burnt sugar fear hid underneath.
Saoirse was frightened and trying to scare me off? Why?
“We can’t be something, because there is no place for me in your world. Also, I kill people for a living,” she snapped.
Oh. Could it be that my fearless, sassy, assassin was afraid of love?
“I don’t care. I’d never stop you from a job that brings you joy. And if it doesn’t, I’ll support you if you want to leave. Every time I look at you, I feel something. All I’m asking is that if you feel anything for me, you give me a chance.” I took a step closer to her.
Straightening, she didn’t yield. Given how small the room was, there wasn’t much space to move, and she’d be at the wall in a couple of steps.
“Feel anything? I’m a contract killer. Also, you don’t love me. You enjoy hunting me. The mighty alpha musician, used to having people throw their underwear onstage, is enjoying someone not being easy for once,” she fired back.
“Is coming to my concerts, sneaking into my dressing room, and fucking me against the wall not easy?” I smirked, letting her get herfeelings off her chest.
Obviously, she needed to sort out her emotions, and some people did that best by talking them out.
I’d happily listen. And tease her a little.
“Since when do people throw underwear on stage? I mean, sometimes I throw underwear, but it’s packaged and from my company.” I frowned a little.
“Dusty.” She shoved me hard.
I didn’t move. While her body language said she was angry, her scent said she was confused and afraid of what she was feeling.
“How could someone who makes beautiful music and exists to make people laugh, love someone like me? How could any good and decent person love a killer? Don’t bring up Fiona, because she’s different.” Her face contorted in self-loathing.
There it was.
My hands fisted. How dare someone ever make her think such things? My sky needed a kiss to reassure her.
Closing the distance between us, I pulled her to me, kissing her long and deep. Her being a tall delta, and me being a short alpha, she was only a little smaller than me. Which made her the perfect height for kissing.
Holding her tight, so she’d feel safe, I poured everything I felt into my kisses. Sure, there was a little bit of a thrill chasing her. It was nice to have to work for her love and attention, because, yes, people did throw themselves at me.
I had so many reasons to like her, though. Such as the fact that we had commonalities–we both did the same type of martial arts, liked extreme fighting, and listened to true-crime podcasts.
Sure, she was both a delta and an assassin, but she awoke all of my protective and caretaking instincts.
Her kisses grew hungry and fierce, like she was trying to swallow me whole. My cock grew hard and rubbed against her, pushing her backwards against the wall.
She killed for money. I sang shirtless. We could make things work.
“You are fucking incredible, Saoirse.” I used her full name on purpose.I hear you. I see you.
“Shut up.” In a swift motion, she flipped our positions, so I was the one up against the wall. She tried to rip my briefs off, but they didn’t tear.
