Vendetta in Death (In Death 49)

He knew where to touch, how to touch to make that pulse quicken, thicken. As it did, as her fingers skimmed through his hair, he whispered kisses over her breasts.

Half dreaming, she breathed out his name, let herself float on the tenderness he offered. Giving hers to him as her hands roamed.

They built desire in delicate layers, clouds of sensation to shimmer.

When he shifted, when their eyes met, she rose to him. She cupped his face with her hands; he slid inside her.

Joy, so simple, so elemental, flowed through her like a river warmed in sunlight.

He lowered his mouth to hers; she linked her fingers with his. Lost in her, he murmured in Irish, words that streamed from his heart as they floated on the joy.

Even when they slipped under, they held strong.

And so he showed her, as she showed him.

Later, with her curled against him, the cat a furry lump at the small of her back, Roarke felt her drift.

“There now, a ghrá,” he murmured. “Only quiet dreams tonight.”

As Eve drifted, Lady Justice waited for the next scream to die away. After all, she didn’t want to rush.

She stood, booted feet spread, one hand on her hip, the other tick-tocking the electric prod. Behind her mask, her eyes gleamed.

“Not such a big man now, are you, Thaddeus?”

Trembling, blood trickling out of his mouth from where he’d bitten his tongue, he lifted his head.

“Why are you doing this? Why?”

“Why? Let’s see.” Head angled, she tapped a finger to her cheek. “Because I can. Because you deserve it!”

She slashed the prod across his abdomen, watched him convulse, watched his naked body jerk and sway. “You’ve really worked on that six-pack, haven’t you, Thaddeus? Gotta stay in shape to screw all your whores.”

Sweat and blood ran down his face, piss down his legs. “Please stop. Please. I can pay you, anything you want. I have money. I have plenty of money. I can—”

“Do you?” Rage burned through her like a brushfire. “Where did you get all that money, you cheating, lying, thieving son of a bitch?”

All but shrieking it, she slashed, slashed with the prod, until his screams no longer sounded human, until those screams broke into wild sobs.

She had to walk away to compose herself. This wasn’t to be done out of anger, she reminded herself, not out of hot fury, but cold-blooded justice.

“Confess. Admit you’re worthless. Admit you’re a liar. A cheat. Admit you cheated and stole from your wife, a woman who loved and trusted you. Admit you cheat now on the whore you took over your vows.”

She jerked his head up. “Admit all that, and I’ll stop. I’ll let you go.”

“Anything.” His head lolled to the side, so she gave him a light, almost teasing flick with the prod.

“Say it. Confess!”

“I confess!”

“To what, Thaddeus? Say it, say it all.”

“I— Tell me what to say. Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Say you’re worthless.”

“I’m worthless.”