THE ENEMY
The first thing Elena Voss felt when she stepped into The Obsidian House was the heat of Kai Thorne’s breath against the nape of her neck.
He hadn’t touched her. He didn’t need to. The bastard stood close enough that the dark spice of his cologne and the faint metallic tang of old blood curled into her lungs like smoke. She kept her spine straight, chin high, even as every nerve ending under her skin sparked to life.
“Miss Voss.” His voice was low, rough, the kind of sound that dragged across bare skin. “You’re late.”
Elena turned slowly. Kai Thorne filled the doorway of the glass-walled foyer like a storm that had learned how to wear a black shirt. Six-foot-four of carved muscle and barely leashed violence. A thin white scar cut diagonally across his left cheekbone; another, thicker one disappeared under the open collar of his shirt, a permanent reminder of the night her family had almost ended his. His eyes—steel blue, cold as the water surrounding the private island—raked over her with open contempt.
And something else. Something darker. Something that made her pulse kick hard between her legs.
“I don’t answer to Thorne schedules,” she said, voice silk over steel. “Your father begged for this truce. Not mine.”
Kai’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “My father is in a wheelchair because of your bloodline. Remember that every time you open that pretty mouth.”
Elena stepped closer. The air between them tightened. She could smell him now—clean sweat, gun oil, and the faint trace of whiskey. Her body betrayed her with a low, traitorous clench.
“Your mother died screaming in a warehouse fire your people started,” she replied softly. “Remember that every time you look at me.”
Silence. Thick. Electric.
Then Kai moved.
He closed the distance in two strides, crowding her back against the cool marble wall. One hand planted beside her head, the other hovering just above her hip, not touching, a deliberate denial that somehow burned hotter than contact. His body heat soaked through the thin black silk of her dress. She felt the hard line of him—thighs, stomach, the unmistakable thick ridge pressing against her lower belly—and her breath hitched before she could stop it.
“Careful, Voss,” he murmured, lips almost brushing her temple. “You’re trembling.”
“From disgust.”
“Liar.” His thumb finally grazed the side of her waist, a single, slow stroke that left fire in its wake. “I can smell how wet you already are.”
Elena’s control snapped.
She shoved him hard enough that he took a step back—only to follow, catching his open collar and yanking his mouth down to hers. The kiss was pure violence. Teeth. Tongue. The metallic taste of the cut she opened on his lower lip. Kai growled into her mouth and slammed her back against the wall, one thigh forcing its way between hers, spreading her legs so the hard muscle pressed directly against the soaked lace of her panties.
Elena moaned despite herself. The sound was raw, angry, hungry. Kai swallowed it, hand sliding under the hem of her dress, fingers finding the dripping heat between her thighs with unerring accuracy. He dragged two thick fingers along her slit, collecting the evidence of her betrayal, then pushed inside without warning.
She cried out against his mouth.
“Fuck,” he breathed, pumping those fingers deep, curling them against the spot that made her vision spark white. “You’re soaked for the man whose family you want dead. Look at you. Clenching around me like a filthy little liar.”
Elena’s hips rolled against his hand, chasing the friction even as her nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood through the shirt. “Shut up and—”
He added a third finger, stretching her open, the wet sound of her body taking him obscenely loud in the quiet foyer. “And what? Fuck you properly? Make you come on the fingers of your enemy?” His thumb found her clit and circled with ruthless precision. “Ask me nicely.”
“Go to hell.”
Kai laughed, low and dark, and dropped to his knees.
The sudden loss of his fingers made her whimper. He shoved the silk dress up to her waist, ripped the lace panties down her thighs, and buried his face between her legs like a man starving. His tongue was broad, hot, relentless—lapping through her folds, spearing inside her, then sealing over her clit and sucking hard.
Elena’s head fell back against the marble. A broken sound tore from her throat. One of her hands fisted in his dark hair; the other braced against the wall as her knees threatened to give out. Kai held her open with both hands, thumbs spreading her wider so he could fuck her with his tongue, then replace it with two fingers again while he sucked her clit in firm, pulsing pulls.
“Hate me,” she gasped, hips grinding against his mouth. “Hate me while you do it.”
He growled against her cunt, the vibration shooting straight through her. His free hand reached up, found her breast through the silk, and pinched her nipple hard enough to border on pain. The dual sensation—pleasure and the sharp edge of cruelty—shoved her over the edge.
Elena came with a choked cry, thighs clamping around his head, pussy spasming around his fingers in hard, rhythmic waves. Kai didn’t stop. He licked her through it, greedy, until she was shaking and oversensitive, until a second, smaller orgasm ripped through her without warning.
Only then did he rise.
His mouth was slick with her. His eyes were black with hunger. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips, then reached for his belt.
Elena’s gaze dropped. The thick outline of his cock strained against the black trousers, a heavy, intimidating bulge she wanted to ruin and be ruined by in equal measure. She reached for him—
Kai caught her wrist.
“Not yet.” His voice was pure gravel. He guided her hand lower, pressed her palm over the hard, throbbing length through the fabric so she could feel every ridge, every pulse. “Feel what you do to me. The woman whose family put my mother in the ground.” He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Next time you come for me like that, I won’t stop. I’ll bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until you forget every name but mine. Until you’re dripping my cum down your thighs and still begging for more.”
He released her, stepped back, and adjusted himself with deliberate calm. The evidence of her orgasm still glistened on his chin.
Elena stood against the wall, dress rucked up, panties around one ankle, cunt still fluttering and empty. Her chest heaved. Hatred and lust tangled so tightly in her chest she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
Kai’s gaze lingered on the wet shine between her thighs one last time. Then he turned toward the hallway.
“Dinner’s at eight,” he said over his shoulder, voice almost civil. “Try not to be late again, Voss. I’d hate to have to come find you.”
The threat—and the promise—hung in the air long after his footsteps faded.
Elena slowly pushed the dress back down. Her legs still trembled. She could still feel the ghost of his tongue, the stretch of his fingers, the filthy words that had pushed her over the edge.
Three weeks.
Locked in this house with the man she was supposed to destroy.
She pressed her thighs together and felt the residual slickness of her own release.
Hate had never tasted so much like need.
And the night had only just begun.