The Finisher (Dark Verse Book 4)

Zephyr

HE’D MADE HER SQUIRT.

Zephyr had never squirted in her life, and it wasn’t like she didn’t have any sexual experience. She’d had a few partners; two of them had made her orgasm. She had always enjoyed sex and had never felt shame in wanting her pleasure, but she’d genuinely believed she was just one of those women who weren’t built to ejaculate.

She’d been wrong. With a few thrusts of his strong fingers, he’d unraveled that belief.

The next morning, as Zephyr changed the sheets and got ready to go to work, she thought back to the previous night.
With her head cleared from arousal and post-orgasmic bliss, she realized he’d sought her out, despite saying he didn’t want to complicate anything with sexual attraction. It didn’t get more sexual than what they’d done, a first for them.

A decade ago, their relationship hadn’t been as sexual, though not for the lack of trying on her part. She’d been eighteen and he almost twenty-two, and he’d been adamant about not sleeping with her until he could do better for himself, like she’d even cared about that. But she’d seen him before that, seen him fuck a girl once against a wall, and god, her teenage self had been eaten up with jealousy. She remembered she’d cried to Zen that night, and it had been her younger sister who had very sensibly told her to just talk to him because he didn’t even know of her existence. She had taken the advice, and gathered her courage, and approached him one evening.

And he’d fallen for her. Only to not remember a thing about it.

Zephyr took a deep breath. He was hers now, and that was all that mattered. He had initiated something between them, and that was her win of the day.

One step forward.

Zephyr loved the way her ring glinted in the salon lights. Throughout the day, as she’d worked on two of her regular clients, her eyes kept drifting to the way the gems sparkled in the bright lights in her workspace, and god, she loved it. She loved the weight of it on her finger, the reminder that he had given her the perfect ring for her, the
way anyone who saw it ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ over it. She loved the feeling of soreness between her legs, the memory of his fingers inside her every time she moved, the glow on her face as she caught her reflection. Her eyes were shining and she loved it. Marriage suited her. Marriage to him suited her.

As she snipped one of her newest client’s hair, her eagerness to return to their new home built up. She didn’t know how the night would go, but she knew she wanted to just be in his presence again. Odd as it sounded, she missed him.

Shaking off her thoughts, she focused on what her newest client was saying.

“That’s a nice ring on your finger.”

Zephyr had been receiving compliments about it all day and she’d been smiling like an idiot about it, but something in the woman’s tone had her gaze sharpening. It wasn’t something obvious that she could put her finger on, just something… off. 

“Thank you,” she smiled politely and simply cut the lock of mahogany hair between her fingers.

“Mrs. Villanova, right?” the client pressed.

Zephyr kept the polite smile as she checked the lady out. Mid-forties, crow’s feet on the corner of her hardened brown eyes.

She stayed silent.

“Your husband manages girls, did you know that?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Girls on the streets, he takes them under his security, gives them better choices. It’s bad for business. But at least you won’t have to wonder where he’s spending his nights when he’s not at home. A man like that wouldn’t be content to settle, you know.”

Zephyr didn’t react outwardly as ants crawled up her skin. Something about this woman was unsettling, and not just what she knew about her husband. It felt icky, like she’d dragged the scent of something rotten inside with her.

Turning on the blow-dryer so she wouldn’t have to listen to any more of her words, Zephyr quickly finished with her hair as soon as she could, barely spending any time to actually make it look as good as she was known for. She nodded to one of the assistants and indicated for him to take over the final setting, leaving the repugnant woman behind as she went to the main counter for a breather.

The receptionist raised her eyebrows. “Bad lunch?” Which was code for an awful client.

She gave a weak smile, her mind swirling with questions, not about Alpha, because she knew what he did already, but about the woman and who the hell she was. How did she know all that about her husband, and more importantly what was she doing at Zephyr’s workplace telling her all of it? What was the point of that?

The demoness in question came to the counter and paid, all the while watching Zephyr with sharp eyes. Just as she stepped out from her side, she bent from her height.

“The Syndicate is watching you now.”

And she left.

Zephyr didn’t know what The Syndicate was but it sure as hell didn’t sound like a club she wanted the membership to. Frowning at the bizarre encounter, Zephyr shook her head and wrapped up her day, totally weirded out by the random woman. She clocked out and exited the salon to find Victor, her bonafide bodyguard and driver, reading a newspaper as he leaned against the large Rover, a few women checking him out as they walked past him.

‘Serial killer on the streets?’ jumped out from the front page. Was that the killer the note had been about at the wedding in Tenebrae?

“Is he at Trident?” she asked about her husband without preamble.

Victor folded the newspaper and nodded.

“Good. Take me to him please.”

Since her salon was just a few blocks away, it didn’t take them more than a few minutes to get to the towers, even less for them to get to the 28^th floor.

This late in the evening, with the sun setting over the city, there were surprisingly more guys in the open area than there had been during the daytime. All of them turned to look at her when she exited the elevator, most of them gave her the respectful version of the man-nod. Being wifed by their boss had put her on a higher scale.

“Yo,” Hector came to greet her, his bald head gleaming as always in the light.

“Yo, he in?” she greeted back with a smile. It should have unsettled her, being the only woman in a room full of men who were taller, stronger, and definitely meaner than she was. But knowing they were all Alpha’s men, that he was the tallest, strongest, meanest of the bunch, and that she was his made a warm ball of butterflies erupt in her stomach. It made her feel safe, protected, knowing that even though he didn’t love her yet, not one of these guys could put a finger on her without feeling her husband’s
wrath.

“He’s on a call,” Hector grinned. “But go ahead.”

Nodding to them, she hiked her purse on her shoulder, fixed her top to show more cleavage, and knocked on his door, entering.

His golden eye came to her as he leaned back in his chair, watching her lock the door behind her.

“She’s setting herself up to get out of the business.” A woman’s voice said from the speaker on the desk. Zephyr hesitated, expecting him to make the call private, but he didn’t, simply keeping his gaze steady on her.

Intrigued to get a glimpse of this side of him, she dropped her bag to the floor and walked around the desk, perching herself on his lap, and put her arms around him, tucking her head under his chin. She felt his body stiffen at the contact, and she gave him a squeeze, closing her eyes and breathing his scent in. God, she loved his smell, all warm and musky and masculine, like the wild forest and wet earth, like home.

“And she’s not keeping it quiet,” the woman’s voice continued. “I have a feeling she might be the next one he hits.”

His hands stayed on the arms of his chair, his body rigid under her.

If he thought she was going to be rebuffed by his lack of reciprocation, he was wrong. She was made of stubbornness and willfulness. She would break him down hug by hug until he had to put his arms around her out of sheer exasperation. She nuzzled into his chest, watching the V exposed by the top three buttons of his black shirt, the
edge of one scar peeking out on his pec.

“Keep an eye on her,” he commanded to the woman on the line, his voice gruffer than usual. Zephyr liked to think it was thanks to her proximity. “I want to know the moment something is off.”

“You got it, boss,” the woman signed off, disconnecting the call. Silence reigned in the office, the lights turning on one by one as the sun went down over the forest, burnishing the entire city.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, still keeping his hands to himself.

Zephyr smiled. “Cuddling.”

She felt him inhale, his chest expanding against her cheek, before deflating as he let out a breath. Damn, she should’ve sat the other way round. She missed out on his heartbeats. Next time.

“This isn’t part of the contract,” he reminded her, his hands gripping the armrests.

God, he was cute sometimes.

“You giving me mind-blowing orgasms isn’t either, but hey, you don’t hear me complaining.”

“Mind-blowing?”

Of course, he’d focus on that.

“Mind-blowing, bone-melting, toe-curling, earth-shattering orgasms.”

He didn’t respond but she sensed he was pleased. Men.

“So, these girls under AV?” she started, picking at his shirt button. “Do you know them?”

His left-hand fingers began tapping the armrest, the ring she’d given him looking delicate on his rough, large hand. “Not all of them, no.”

“But they’re all there voluntarily, right?” She needed to be certain. “They’re not… coerced or anything?”

She felt him pull back and look down at her. “Where’s this coming from?”

She told him about the encounter with the woman, feeling him stiffen again. He pressed the speaker.

‘Victor. Get the cameras from Zephyr’s work today. I want to see every client who walked in and out of there.’

Zephyr kept fiddling with the button. “It’s the Syndicate, isn’t it? It’s bad news.”

He didn’t confirm or deny it.

‘The girls under AV,’ he distracted her while they waited. ‘They might not have come into this world voluntarily, but it’s not easy to get out. Many get too used to it, scared of the normal. Many enjoy the money it can rake. And many want to escape but don’t know how.”

“You can’t help them get out?” Zephyr asked, genuinely wanting to know. His world had begun to seep into hers, but she still didn’t understand how it worked.

He gave a humorless chuckle. “I’m not a savior, Zephyr. And it’s best if you don’t think of me as one. The most I can give these women is a choice—to join me and be safe, or remain unsafe. And once they join me, they’re free to leave any time. But I’m not a good, moral man. I can kill you as easily as I can make you orgasm. Blood or cum, my hands wear them both well.”

That was probably the most he’d ever said to her in one go, and it was a lot to take in. Zephyr liked to think she was moral, but how much of that was her upbringing? Would she have felt the same had she led a life alone on the streets and not one with a warm, loving family? Would she have cared about right or wrong when the goal had been survival?

She didn’t know. And she had to accept who he had become now, and not the boy he’d once been, even though his morality had always been skewed.

She gave him a squeeze, and though he didn’t return it, she felt him relax slightly.

One day at a time.