His Angel: A Dark Mafia Romance (Dark Sovereign Book 10)

He’s everywhere. In my mind. My soul. My blood. My dreams.

My nightmares.

Even if I wanted to escape him, I wouldn’t be able to because everything I am reverberates with the echo of him. Like he’s woven into the fabric of my being.

Isaia…

The first thing I register is the weight of the sheets sticking to my sweaty skin like a second layer I can’t peel off. The scent follows next, deep and musky, laced with the tang of salt and the crisp bite of ocean air. The sound of waves crashing. Rhythmic. Distant.

My eyes blink open to a soft, muted room bathed in sunlight. My head throbs, and my thoughts are scattered as I try to piece it all together.

The blood. The screams. The lies.

The last time I saw Anthony alive.

What have I done?

My chest tightens, ribs locking around a sharp, unbearable ache, the grief burrowing into my bones. Anthony’s face flashes in my mind, the lies I told playing on repeat. And then…the life fading from his eyes.

Nausea rises. It’s a bitter sting at the back of my throat, and I wrap my arms around myself, as if I can hold together the jagged pieces that have begun to shatter.

“I was starting to think you’ll never wake up.”

I jolt, whipping my gaze to the door. “Isaia.”

A smirk that can melt flesh off bones pulls at his lips. “Good morning, troublemaker,” he drawls, voice dripping with that cocky edge that makes my stomach flip.

My mind races as I take him in. Dark irises, deep and consuming, pull me under, that grin curling slow, lips carved for sin, daring me to bite. And I’m suddenly aware that all I’m wearing is a white shirt that smells like him. No underwear.

Oh, God.

A black T-shirt stretches tight over his chest, sleeves hugging his arms, faded jeans slung low, frayed at the knees. He belongs here, in this salty, wild air, like it’s just another piece of him.

I ignore the heat licking at my skin, focusing on the rage bubbling beneath my ribs instead.

“Where the hell am I?”

He tilts his head. “Somewhere safe.”

“I didn’t ask if I was safe.”

“It’s the only question that matters.”

I lurch off the bed, legs quaking like they might give out, but Isaia’s faster. His hands snatch me mid-stumble, yanking me hard against his blazing heat, and my chilled skin ignites where it meets his.

The familiar scent of him slams into me. Wooden amber, black pepper, and that raw, primal musk that’s all him. It’s a gut punch, unraveling me, reminding me how I missed him, and before I can think, my lips crash into his.

He doesn’t hesitate. He devours.

One arm locks around my waist, crushing me against the solid wall of his body, while his other hand twists into my hair, wrenching my head back with a sting that makes me gasp.

All I think about is how I longed for him. How my soul ached every day we were apart. How pieces of me broke, little by little, while I had to play my part and plan a wedding I didn’t want. How I looked Anthony in the eye and wished it was Isaia.

I ached for this man in the most brutal ways, and now I’m taking my fill, like salve to an open wound.

Isaia’s mouth claims mine, hot, vicious, tongue shoving past my lips to fuck my mouth like he owns it—he does. It’s not soft. It’s not tender. It’s a goddamn inferno, a collision of need that steals my breath and sets my blood ablaze. It’s always like this with him, uncontrolled and raw.

I claw at his shoulders, nails biting into muscle, anchoring me as the world shrinks to the wet slide of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth, the heat rolling off him in waves. It’s a frenzy of lips and hands, his fingers digging into the curve of my ass, hauling me tighter against him until I can feel every thick inch of him pulsing against me.

A moan rips from my throat, half-choked, and he swallows it, growling into my mouth as the kiss turns savage—teeth clashing, lips bruising.

My pussy clenches, already slick, every nerve screaming for more as his grip in my hair tightens, forcing my neck to arch until my throat’s bared to him, vulnerable and so fucking willing.

He pulls back just enough to bite my lower lip, dragging it between his teeth, and I whimper.

“You taste like mine,” he rasps. “Are you mine, baby girl?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation. It’s the truth. I’m his. I’ve been his since we crashed into one another at the park.

He squeezes my naked ass hard, so hard my pussy lips part, and I’m trembling, burning, lost in the wildfire of him. But then it hits—sharp, jagged, like a blade through the haze.

The church. The chaos. The blood.

Anthony.

I gasp and break the kiss, stumbling back, and my fingertips touch my lips as if I can wipe away the fire he’s left there.

“Don’t do that,” he warns. “Don’t pull away from me.”

“You—” My voice cracks. “You killed them.”

His expression doesn’t shift. No twitch of guilt, no shadow of regret. Just that cold, unrelenting stare, like the blood on his hands is nothing more than paint drying on a canvas he’s already forgotten. It’s chilling, but God help me, it’s magnetic, too, and I hate myself for it.

“Michele, he…” My throat tightens with the weight of it all, “he was a monster. But Anthony…he didn’t⁠—”

“He didn’t what?” His voice is a whip crack slicing through my stammering. “Didn’t deserve it? That piece of shit put his hands on you. Thought he could have you. He signed his death warrant the day he walked into Ember & Bean acting like he owns you.”

My knees buckle, hitting the edge of the bed, and I collapse onto it, the memory slamming into me. Anthony’s body crumpled, lifeless, the dull thud of it echoing in my skull. Blood pooling, staining the floor.

And then the lies. The fucking lies I told. The onesIsaia unraveled with a bullet, all for me—because of me.

Isaia’s hand shoots out, fingers curling around my arm, but I wrench away, instinct overriding the heat still licking through my veins.

His eyes flare, a storm of black fire. “I’m only going to say this one more time. Do not. Pull away from me.”

“You didn’t have to kill him,” I whisper. “He wasn’t⁠—”

“He touched you,” Isaia snarls, cutting me off, his voice dipping into a guttural roar as he closes the distance, looming over me.

His hand lashes out again, this time snagging my wrist in a grip so tight it bruises, yanking me up and back toward him until I’m pressed against the furnace of his chest.

“You think I’d let anyone—anyone—lay a finger on what belongs to me and live?”

“He didn’t⁠—”

“He took you from me!”

“No, he didn’t,” I cry out. “Michele took me. He’s the one who forced me to marry Anthony by threatening my mother. Isaia, I had no choice. Anthony was simply doing what I asked him to do.”

“Do you want the bullshit response to that, or the honest one?’

I swallow. “I don’t⁠—”

“Here’s the honest one.” He takes my chin between his fingers, a fever flooding my system as he tilts my head back. “I don’t care that you were forced to marry him. I don’t care that Michele used your mother’s cancer to do it. All I give an inkling of a fuck about is the fact that Anthony thought he could have you.”

“You didn’t have to kill him, Isaia.”

“Yeah, I did.” He drags his thumb along my bottom lip. “I told you I’d do it. Remember? I told you it wasn’t a question of if I’d kill him. It was a matter of when.”

“He was right about you.” Tears prickle my eyes. “You are a monster.”

“Of course, he was right about me. Because men like us, we’re all monsters.” He grips my cheeks and squeezes, puckering my lips. “But me? I’m your monster, baby girl.” Hot lips claim mine, and instead of fighting, I melt into him, my body reacting before my mind can protest.

Strong fingers weave into my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp, and heat explodes low in my belly, a dark, twisted coil of lust snaking through my traitorous body. The word monster is stuck in my head like a big, bold neon sign, but my craving for him easily ignores it, refusing to acknowledge any and all warnings.

His tongue lashes against mine, deliberate and punishing, and he tastes like bourbon laced with feral chaos, a flavor so distinctly Isaia it seeps into my blood like poison, making me willing and pliant to his every demand.

My hands shove against his chest—not to fight, but to yield, fingers clawing at him like he’s the only thing tethering me to sanity as he drags me under, drowning me in the wildfire of his touch.

His mouth parts from mine long enough for him to pull the shirt over my head before slamming back into a kiss so hot it can burn me to ash. While he devours me, my body hums louder with every bruising second, a primal symphony that swallows the blood, the lies, the savage choices that forged this moment—until it’s just him, just us, a collision too fucked-up to resist.

“Isaia…” My gasp is sharp as he drags his palms over my hips, yanking me against him. “Isaia, we can’t…” I try to protest yet refuse to pull my lips from his. “We need…we need to talk.”

“There’s a lot of things I need right now, and talking ain’t one.”

“Isaia, please,” I whisper against his mouth.

“Fine. Want to talk? How about another taste of my truth?”

Before I can answer, he spins me fast, slamming me chest first against the window, my palms smacking flat against it, fingers splaying helplessly, naked breasts pressed against the cold glass.

A growl rumbles from his throat, pure impatience, and his hands clamp onto my waist.

“I had to drug you.”

I balk. “What? You⁠—”

He grabs my hair and yanks my head back. “You were so amped on adrenaline, I had no choice. It was either that or risk fucking up my plan to get you out of there.”

A gasp escapes me when he snakes an arm around my waist, hand dipping between my legs.

“But that’s not even the worst part.” He finds my clit, and my body jerks with pleasure. “Want to know what’s really fucked-up?” I groan when he stops, sliding his hand up and forcing his finger into my mouth so I can taste myself. “I touched you while you slept.”

I moan around his finger.noveldrama

“I squeezed your tits, sucked your nipples until they hardened in my mouth.”

He drags the hot, velvet tip of his cock down the curve of my ass, and my breath hitches as his mouth grazes my ear, voice a rough whisper laced with obsession.

“Wanna know what I did next?” He slips his cock between my thighs. Keeps it there. Still. “Say it. Say you wanna know.”

I bite my bottom lip, knowing I should hate this…but I don’t. It’s like he’s tapped into the darkest parts of me, exploiting it to the fullest.

“Yes,” I breathe out. “I wanna know.”

He sucks air through his teeth, grips my waist and jerks my ass back, spreading me wider, his breath hot against my neck. “I fingered you, baby girl. I slipped two inside your pussy and found you wet for me while drugged out of your fucking mind. If that’s not proof you’re mine, nothing is.”

A strangled whimper slips past my lips as he inches back, thrusting his hard cock back between my thighs, teasing at my entrance.

“I tasted you, too.” His lips brush my ear. “Licked every fucking drop of you clean, pried you wide open while I jerked my cock so hard it throbbed, spilling hot and thick all over your pussy, marking you while you just lay there, oblivious and mine.”

It’s pure filth, twisted and wrong on every level, but my thighs clamp tightly around his cock, slick with my own arousal, and he sucks in a sharp hiss, the sound morphing into a wicked laugh that vibrates against my neck, dark and taunting.

My mind’s a haze of lust and scattered thoughts, everything distorted, and all I can think of saying is, “You’re disgusting.”

“Yet you love it, don’t you? The thought of me taking you. Using this sweet, helpless body while you sleep, fucking you raw in ways you couldn’t even fight.”

The depravity of it sinks in, coiling in my core, the heat of his words pulling me under to a place where I surrender all control.

He pulls back slowly, torturing me, the slick drag of him making my core clench around nothing, the ache of needing to be filled snagging my breath from my lungs.

“It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, my cum dripping down your slit, pooling at your entrance like it wanted in.” Again, he thrusts, shallow and cruel, teasing me right on the jagged edge of sanity, refusing to give me the brutal fullness I need.

“Isaia, please.”

“I scooped it up and shoved it inside you, and you let out the most beautiful sound. You love my cum, don’t you, baby girl?”

“Please,” I beg, pushing my hips back and ass up.

“Please, what?” He gives me the head—only the head—and I hold my breath. “You need to be fucked, troublemaker?”

“God, yes.”

“Does your greedy pussy need to swallow every inch I give you until you’re screaming my name, fucked out and owned by your monster?”

“Yes. Fuck. Please.”

With a guttural growl, he seizes my hips, fingers sinking into my flesh. “Now, take my cock like a good fucking girl.”

He plunges into me, and I scream, the stretch, the euphoria drowning my thoughts and breaking my mind while my body quivers with the relief of being filled.

A ragged gasp tears from me as he shoves in farther, splitting me wide with every thick, punishing inch. The burn’s excruciating, the stretch obscene, filling me so deep it’s like he’s carving himself into me—and it’s still not enough.

“You have a greedy cunt, baby. It’s sucking me in. Fuck.” He grabs my hair, pulling my head back, and a choked, filthy moan rips out of me as he bottoms out, my walls spasming around his pulsing cock, gripping him like a vise. It’s a gut-punch of pleasure slamming into me with a force that makes me see stars, and all I can do is take him. All of him.

He pulls back just enough to make me whine, a pathetic, needy sound, then rams back in, hard and deep, stealing the breath from my lungs.

“God, I love the sounds you make when you’re full of my cock.”

I moan loudly, my pussy fluttering around his thick length. The sensation is devastating, white-hot pleasure colliding with unfiltered need. His hips snap forward again, relentless, driving his cock so deep I swear I feel him in my soul.

The glass fogs under my panting breaths, my nails scraping uselessly against it as he fucks me into oblivion.

“You hear that?” His voice is a jagged blade of lust slicing through the haze. “That wet, sloppy sound of your cunt sucking me in? That’s how bad you want this, Everly—how desperate you are for me to use this perfect fucking body of yours.”

I choke on a cry, my body shuddering as his shaft drags against every sensitive inch inside me, stretching me so wide I can barely think.

“Try to deny it,” he taunts, one hand sliding up to clamp around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my pulse pound against his fingers. “Go on, tell me I’m disgusting while your pussy’s choking my cock.”

“Fuck you,” I gasp, but it’s weak, broken as I push my body back against him, and he laughs with a low rumble of pure satisfaction.

“You’re as addicted to me as I am to you, baby girl.”

He’s right, and I hate it. I’m soaked, dripping down my thighs, my body screaming for him even as my mind scrambles to hold on to some shred of control while reminding me that he’s a killer.

A killer of control. A murderer of reason.

His grip tightens on my throat as he slams into me harder, the wet smack of skin on skin echoing in the air. His other hand digs into my hip, yanking me back to meet every punishing thrust, my body nothing but sensation and hunger.

“You’re gonna come for me. You hear me? Fucking gush all over my cock while I split you open.”

The pressure builds, coiling tight and vicious in my core, every thrust shoving me closer to the edge. He shifts, angling his hips just right, and the thick head of his cock slams against that spot inside me that detonates a pleasure that ricochets against every bone.

A scream tears from my throat, raw, ragged, and he groans like it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“There it is,” he snarls, relentless now, fucking me through the tremors rocking my body. “Give it to me, troublemaker. Let me feel that tight little cunt milk me dry.”

I shatter.

My walls clamp down around him, pulsing wildly as wave after wave of euphoria rips through me, so intense it’s almost painful. My legs buckle, but he grabs both my arms, fingers digging into my elbows, pulling them back, steadying me as he continues to fuck me with savage, greedy strokes, chasing his own release.

“Fuck…fuck.” His voice cracks as he buries himself deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he spills inside me, his hips jerking as he comes. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t real,” he pants, and I’m so full of his cum, I can feel it there, waiting to leak down my thighs the second he pulls out.

“Nothing compares to fucking you. Nothing.” He lets go of my arms, and I sag against the window, palms pressed against the glass, trying to catch my breath, my mind struggling to catch up.

But as the euphoria dissipates, the guilt, the grief slithers back in, and it’s even worse than before.

I lost a friend. A protector. A good man. Because I chose to tell a lie rather than chance the truth. And I just let the man who killed him fuck me like his death means nothing to me. Like it’s not darkening my soul.

What kind of person am I?

Isaia’s not the monster. I am.

As he pulls out, cum dripping down my thighs, a soft whimper rolls past my lips, tears threatening as his hand slides around me, thumb lazily grazing my nipple.

He leans in, lips brushing my ear, voice dropping to a low, guttural murmur that chills me even as it burns. “No one will ever take you from me again, Everly Beaumont. I will carve a river of blood through this world before I let that happen.”

And God help me, I don’t argue because I feel the weight of that vow in my bones, heavy as the blood still staining my memories.