Taming Seraphine

LEROI

Like a god?

I stand in the shower beneath the hot spray, letting the water wash away my turmoil of conflicting thoughts. Only three women know the full story, yet Seraphine is the only one who didn’t stare at me with looks of anger or horror.

When Anton arrived on the scene, he thought I was pitiful for not completing the job. Mom and sister had been yelling at me for nearly an hour, asking how I could have done something so horrific. Their words faded into the background because every ounce of my attention was on the bastard bleeding out on the floor.

Each rasp of his breath grated on my eardrums and frayed my nerves. I would have finished him if I’d been alone, but I couldn’t move forward with two women screaming as if I was a cold-hearted murderer instead of a loving brother and son trying to protect them.

I pick up the shampoo and work it through my hair, my thoughts traveling back to Seraphine’s words. She said she would have worshipped me if I had killed the men who raped her mother. It’s a peculiar way to put it, but it beats being seen as a monster. In her eyes, I’m a hero.

But she’d be wrong.

Heroes are patient and soft. Heroes are gentle. Heroes don’t grab women by the throat and fuck them until it hurts. Heroes also don’t lust after the women they’re supposed to save. Seraphine needs a man who will take it easy and slow, not one who will be demanding and rough.

Someone who isn’t me.

She has suffered enough at the hands of other men. Taking off the leash I’ve placed over myself will only add to her trauma.

My cock chooses that moment to stiffen. With a grunt, I jerk the taps to cold, and the icy spray douses the flames of my arousal. Seraphine is not a natural submissive. She’s broken and innocent and sweet. She doesn’t realize my calm facade is the cage I use to contain desires that could trigger her killer instincts.

The thought of her coming at me with a blade heats my blood, and my erection swells at the memory of how she ground against me. Dipping my head beneath the cold water, I swallow a groan and focus on putting an end to this insanity before I find myself in too deep.

I rinse off, cut the water, and step out of the shower, resigning myself to the fact that I’ll never be the man Seraphine needs or deserves.

She’s gone by the time I step into my room, presumably getting dressed as ordered. After slipping on a new outfit, I walk out of my room to get a start on breakfast.

A soft giggle makes my gaze snap to the far side of the dining table, where Seraphine sits beside Miko wearing only my shirt. They’re pressed up against each other, hunched over the screen of a computer tablet.

She perches on the chair with one bare leg pulled up close to her chest, her heel balanced on the edge of the seat. As Miko’s gaze bounces from his tablet to her exposed thigh, my jaw clenches. Seraphine has no right to invite men into my apartment while she’s naked.

“This one decapitates the zombie,” Miko points at something on his screen.

She double-taps and squeals. “What else can I do?”

“You can set them on fire,” Miko replies with a shy smile.

“Let me try.” Her movement causes the collar of my shirt to slip and reveal her shoulder.

When Miko’s gaze hones in on her creamy skin, it takes every molecule of self-control not to rip them apart. Pressure gathers in my temples, escalating with each pounding beat of my heart. Keeping a tight control over my rage, I cross the room and slam both palms on the table.

They jerk apart. Miko flushes, while Seraphine gazes up at me with a familiar look of defiance.

“Hey man, I knocked and Sera let me in,” Miko says.

Sera?

I meet Seraphine’s huge blue eyes. There’s no sign of the vulnerable girl who confronted me in my bedroom. She’s more like the one I caught splattered in blood and cutting the penis of her enemy into wafer-thin slices.

Now is not the time to deal with her brand of chaos.

“Why are you here?” I ask Miko.

“He’s going to teach me to be a hacker,” Seraphine says, her eyes bright.

I ignore her taunting and focus on Miko, who shifts in his seat. “I found the hospital they used for the first transplant, it’s in New Jersey. The live donor was a man with a birth date that would have made him eighteen at the time, and the address given is a condo in Queen’s Gardens around the corner owned by Joseph Di Marco.”

“His lawyer knew?” I ask, all traces of possessiveness fading.

“What are you waiting for?” I say to Seraphine. “Get dressed, and let’s go.”

“Miko said it burned down in a fire, and the building is still being rebuilt.”

“Shit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and turn my attention back to Miko. “Any leads on the second surgery?”

“Still working on it.” He raises a shoulder. “I’ve set a macro to search for the fake dates of birth across all hospitals in the United States. It’s only a matter of time before we find them.”

I nod. “Great work.”

Miko rises off his seat, and Seraphine tries to hand him the tablet.

“Keep it,” he says, his cheeks darkening.

“Thank you.” She lowers her lashes and smiles.

Miko takes one last look at her body before turning toward the door. I can’t even blame him—Seraphine is both beautiful and age-appropriate. To a nineteen-year-old virgin, she’s the sophisticated older woman next door.

Seraphine would devour poor Miko and leave him in pieces.

I wait in silence until he leaves. As soon as the door swings shut, I advance on Seraphine and yank her up by the arm.

“Not a word.” I march her out through the balcony and up the iron steps that lead to the roof terrace.

Traffic rumbles from below, the sound muffled by the fury pounding through my veins. Beaumont city stretches out beyond the railings, its skyscrapers bathed in morning light. I release my grip on her arm and glare down into Seraphine’s blank features.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss.

Her eyes widen with false surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Miko is off-limits,” I snarl. “He’s a good kid, and I won’t have you leading him on.”

She tilts her head and gazes up at me through her thick, blonde lashes. “I wasn’t⁠—”

“Cut the bullshit,” I snarl. “If you’re pissed about this morning, take it up with me. Don’t drag Miko into this. He’s too young for your games.”

Seraphine’s nostrils flare. When her lips part with a denial, I close the distance between us and wrap a hand around her throat.

Her eyes widen, and she gasps, her chest heaving. Her nipples protrude through the fabric of her borrowed shirt, even though it’s a warm morning.

A flush blooms across her cheeks, and her pupils dilate. As her pulse races beneath my fingers, my blood heats with desire. Damn this woman. Even when she’s getting on my nerves, she still manages to make me feral.

“Stop acting like a jealous boyfriend,” she says. “It was just a conversation.”

My fingers tighten around her throat, eliciting a whimper. I lean in close and press my lips to her ear. “You’ve spent five years luring men to their deaths. Five years of knowing what to say and how to position yourself to attract their attention. Miko is a child. He doesn’t deserve your manipulation.”

She jerks back, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits, and her pretty features tighten with undisguised hatred. She’s probably imagining a thousand ways of orchestrating my demise—I already saw some of her drawings. The little devil made sure to label her victim, so there was no mistake that she fantasizes about my mutilation.

“You don’t want me,” she says, her voice breathy. “You don’t want me to have Miko. What do you want?”

An excellent question.

I want Seraphine writhing beneath me, her gorgeous face twisted in a medley of pleasure and pain. I want her screams in my ears, her skin marked with my touch and erasing the memories of all those bastards in her past. I want her mind, her body, her soul.

The thought comes unbidden and unwelcome. I force it back, but the effort is futile. Seraphine is still there, pressed against me, with her heart pounding and her gaze searing into mine.

I’ve never felt this level of desire for a woman. She’s innocent yet devious, vulnerable yet strong. It’s an intoxicating combination that makes me forget my own rules.

“What do I want?” I snarl.

Her eyes darken, and she draws so close that our lips almost touch. The hand around her neck loosens, and I brush the pad of my thumb over her delicate jaw.

“I want to save you, Seraphine. I want to tame those deadly instincts so you can lead the life you deserve.”

My hand moves of its own accord down the curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulders, and the swell of her hip. I realize what the fuck I’m doing and snatch it away.

“If you hurt Miko, I will end you. Is that understood?”

She nods, her lips quivering.

“Good.” I step away, wishing I’d made her get dressed before this confrontation. “Now, sit on the mat and let’s start some breathing exercises.”

Seraphine studies me for several moments before turning away without a word. I stare after her and ignore the pang of regret. It would be selfish and dangerous to give into desires she isn’t equipped enough to handle.

I didn’t rescue her from one monster to deliver her to another. She must never find out what lies beneath my tight facade of control.