Vicious Neon

C H A P T E R T W E L V E

The tropical sun reached its zenith, casting blinding diamonds of light across the turquoise lagoon below the cliffside villa. Inside the master pavilion, the cool sea breeze drifted through sheer linen curtains, carrying the scent of salt spray, wild frangipani, and heated skin. Roxanne stood before the full-length obsidian mirror, running a silver-plated brush through the vivid magenta cascade of her hair. In the dark glass, she no longer saw the desperate performer hiding behind layers of sequins and stage paint at The Obsidian Velvet. The hollow tension around her eyes had vanished, replaced by a radiant, lethal poise.

Behind her, the low hum of a quantum terminal signaled an incoming encrypted ping. Ronin stood by the slate desk, clad only in loose black linen trousers that hung low on his muscular hips. His bare chest, sculpted with dense muscle and crisscrossed with silver combat scars, gleamed faintly in the sunlight. Across his jaw and throat, the stark skull ink caught the light like an ancient talisman. He tapped the holographic display, his dark eyes scanning the scrolling telemetry.

— Intercepted traffic from New Vega? — Roxy asked, setting her brush down and turning toward him with a slow, feline grace. She wore a sheer black silk robe that fell open with every step, revealing the smooth expanse of her sun-kissed thighs and the curve of her waist.

Ronin crossed his arms, his predatory gaze tracking her approach with dark intensity. The corners of his mouth twitched beneath the tattooed bone.

— The syndicate is cannibalizing itself — Ronin replied, his deep baritone rumbling through the quiet room. — With Salvatore, Zhang, and the bearer bonds erased in the same forty-eight-hour window, the remaining lieutenants are slaughtering one another over scraps in the Lower District. The police departments have sealed off the sector. New Vega is burning, and no one has the slightest clue where the sparks went.

Roxy stopped inches from his chest. The contrast between them remained striking: her vibrant, soft warmth against his brooding, lethal steel. She reached out, resting her palms against his pectoral muscles, feeling the steady, thudding rhythm of his heart beneath her fingertips.

— Let them burn — Roxy whispered, her eyes locking onto his. — For five years, that city took everything from me. It took my father, my brother, and my youth. The only good thing that ever came out of that cesspool was the assassin who broke into my dressing room.

Ronin’s hand came up, catching her chin between his calloused thumb and forefinger. He tilted her face upward, studying every curve of her lips, the high flush on her cheekbones, and the fearless spark burning in her eyes.

— I didn't break in to save you, Roxanne — he murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous, smoky register. — I was hunting. But from the second you went for my shin with that stiletto and looked me in the eye without flinching, I knew you weren't collateral. You were mine.

— Prove it — she challenged, a provocative smirk tugging at her lips. She slid her hands down his ribcage, over the firm ridges of his abdomen, slipping her fingers beneath the waistband of his linen trousers. — You talk like an emperor, Ghost. But out here, there are no targets to kill, no doors to breach, and no clocks ticking down. Show me what you do when the war is over.

A low growl vibrated in Ronin’s chest. In one swift, effortless movement, his hand slid behind her neck, twisting into her thick magenta hair and yanking her head back. His mouth crashed down onto hers with bruising possessiveness. The kiss tasted of dark roast espresso, sea salt, and sheer, unfiltered dominance. Roxy parted her lips with a breathless moan, meeting the demanding sweep of his tongue with equal ferocity.

Ronin’s other arm snaked around her waist, lifting her off her feet and carrying her toward the center of the pavilion. He didn't take her to the bed; instead, he backed her against the massive, solid teak pillar that supported the vaulted ceiling. The rough, polished wood pressed against her bare back as her sheer robe fell away, fluttering to the floor like discarded shadows.

— You think peace makes me gentle, little bird? — Ronin snarled against the shell of her ear, his hot breath sending shivers dancing down her spine. — Peace just means I have all the time in the world to take you apart.

His lips trailed down the slender line of her neck, biting lightly at the sensitive tendon before searing across her collarbone. Roxy gasped, her hands digging into his muscular shoulders as his large palms cupped her breasts. He kneaded the firm, warm mounds with heavy authority, his thumbs flicking over the hardened pink peaks until she was arching wildly off the timber pillar.

— Ronin... God... — she whined, her nails leaving light red crescents on his sun-warmed skin. The sheer raw intensity of his touch was like an electric current setting every nerve ending on fire.

He dropped to his knees before her. Roxy’s breath hitched as his tattooed jaw pressed between her thighs. With slow, unhurried deliberation, Ronin hooked her knees over his broad shoulders, opening her completely to the sunlit room. Her wet, swollen core glistened in the midday light, dripping with anticipation.

— Look down and watch me claim you — Ronin commanded, his dark eyes looking up into hers from between her legs.

Before she could utter a single word, his warm, wet tongue lashed across her sensitive bundle of nerves. Roxy threw her head back against the pillar, a piercing cry ripping from her throat. Ronin pinned her hips with his iron grip, devouring her with ruthless precision. His tongue circled her aching c******s while two long, scarred fingers slid deep into her tight, slick channel, stretching her with rhythmic, curling strokes.

— Ah! Ronin... please! I can't... it's too much! — Roxy sobbed, her hips bucking helplessly against his mouth. Every flick of his tongue and every deep thrust of his fingers drove her closer to madness. The world dissolved into flashes of brilliant gold and white light.

He didn't relent. He picked up the tempo, suckling her swollen center while his fingers drove deep into her dripping heat. Roxy tightened violently around his hand, her inner walls pulsing in rapid, uncontrollable spasms. She screamed his name as an explosive climax tore through her core, flooding his fingers and mouth with her sweet release. Ronin held her firmly through the trembling aftershocks, drinking her down until she hung limp in his grip, heaving and completely undone.