Bone Deep(34)

“I will need the truths you hold inside you, moye. But tonight I will show you pleasure and it is as it should be. No one is more deserving than you. Are you ready?”

“Your body calls to mine. I would deny my need for you but I am not a liar,” she whispered at his lips.

Dmitry lifted up, took his cock in his hands and dragged it through her folds. Her breath broke and she arched up, hips rolling, beckoning.

“Ti mne nuzhen,” she said on a groan.

“Then you shall have me,” he told her and pressed a single finger inside her body, feeling her slickness coat him, feeling her warmth.

He hissed in a breath, added another finger and her internal muscles flexed. He bit the crest of her hip lightly, and her hands dug into his hair, pulling as her body continued to rise, seeking more of what he would give her.

“Please, Dmitry, this is torture,” she gasped.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he returned as he lowered his mouth to her pubis.

A strident knock on the door and his muscles locked. For a second all he could hear was the blood pounding through his veins. Another knock and everything sharpened into focus. Dmitry covered her, stood and grabbed his gun. No one should be here this late.

“It is Arrow.”

“Give me a minute,” he answered gruffly.

He looked to Bone. Her eyes were round and her lips were parted. She chose that moment to lick them. Dmitry groaned. “Do you want me to answer it?”

Her face cleared and she nodded, getting up off the bed, tugging on her pants. He threw her another T-shirt and she dragged it on, hiding the bounty of her body from him. He rubbed a hand down his face, frustration eating at him.

“I am sorry for this,” she muttered as she made to move around him, her gaze downcast, her cheeks rouged red.

He lifted her chin with a finger. “But I am not. And we will begin this again, later. When you are finished with your sisters, return to me, moye.”

“Maybe it is as it should be,” she argued.

“I will not force you, Bone. You must come to me free of your fears or this will never be what it could be,” he responded.

He held his breath.

“I have no fears and this,” she motioned between them and then toward the bed. “Is more pleasure than I have ever known. It is more than I’ve ever deserved. Thank you, Dmitry, for sharing yourself with me.”

Then she stepped around him, opened the door and left.

He punched the wall again. He wanted to curse Arrow but realized her interruption was fortuitous. Dmitry had his own truths to impart to Bullet, Arrow, Bone, Rand, and the rest of Trident Corporation.

And until all the slates were clean, he and Bone would have no foundation. They would have nothing more than a shared pleasure that would disappear the moment she left. Dmitry had settled his entire life. He was going to have Bone, all of her, or he would have nothing.





Chapter Eight


“I am sorry, sister,” Arrow quipped as they headed down the hallway.

Bone did not look at her because the biggest part of her was still in the room with Dmitry. He had been on top of her, inside of her and light had shone in the midst of her eternal darkness. “It is for the best.”

Arrow sighed. “Bullet waits for us on the ridge.”

“Mother,” Bone guessed.

“It is also the one place we get complete freedom from ears listening to every word. This house is a home of sorts but still a prison,” Arrow murmured.

“Until Joseph lies rotting in his grave, no place will be home for us. Prison is all we will know. But it will be good to see where Mother rests,” Bone replied.

They walked in silence, lightning ripping cracks in the tenuous fabric of the night sky and thunder rumbling in the distance. She saw the headstone atop the ridge and her heart stopped.

Mother had been Bone’s favorite. Jesuit had been Bullet’s. Neither Arrow nor Blade had dealt with the young ones for very long. Most of their contracts took them away from Arequipa for months at a time. For ten years the babies, as Bullet called them, had been mostly under Bone’s watch. She dispatched her kills with a quick thoroughness that allowed her to return and keep her eye on them. Though she had been unable to save them, she watched over them, keeping them alive as long as she could and daring Joseph to take what she considered hers.

That Mother lay cold in the grip of the earth replaced the calming pleasure she’d known in Dmitry’s arm, filling her with volcanic wrath and reaffirming her purpose. Mother was but another life taken in Joseph’s quest to re-create the perfect killer.

She walked to the headstone, saw that it read the child’s name in her native Hebrew and went to her knees. She bowed before the stone and said the Death Prayer. She had not spoken the words the night her mother and father had been murdered before her—they had not deserved it. She had not spoken them the morning Ninka had died. She had been too angry at the God who had abandoned her. But she said them now for a child who’d been taken before life had a chance to begin. Her voice was broken, the words stilted and at times so low she couldn’t hear them herself, but she said the prayer and when she was finished, she kissed the dirt above Mother’s body and lifted her face to the dark sky.

“For Mother I would don sackcloth and throw ashes over my head. I would wail to Heaven and tear at my skin. But You do not listen to my prayers. If ever I earned a favor, Hashem, please walk with her to the Tree of Life and give her peace,” Bone said to the roiling clouds above her.