Craving Protection

Note: This chapter is explicit. R18+

The music throbbed like a heartbeat, pulsing through the velvet-walled VIP lounge of Club Crimson. The scent of smoke, sex, and expensive whiskey hung in the air like fog. Red lights bathed the room in a sinful glow, blurring inhibitions and sharpening cravings.

Sienna Valentino didn't belong here.

Which was exactly why she came.

Perched on the lap of a man whose name she didn't know...nor care to...she tilted her head back and laughed at something she hadn't heard. Her silk dress clung to her curves like a second skin, the slit revealing smooth, bronzed thigh every time she shifted.

The man's hand slid higher. "You're so fucking hot," he muttered, lips brushing her neck. "You know who your father is, right?"

She smiled lazily. "Do you?"

"I do. Marco DeLuca. The goddamn King of the East Coast. I could get killed for touching you."

Her red lips parted as her eyes met his. "Then you'd better make it worth it."

He chuckled and leaned in, his hand pressing between her legs, but her eyes drifted past him ...to the shadows.

And there he was.

Alone. Silent. Watching.

Killian Black.

He didn't sit like other men. He sprawled, as if the world answered to him. A glass of whiskey in one gloved hand, tattoos barely visible beneath the rolled sleeves of his black shirt, his face half-hidden beneath low lighting and a scar that ran from his brow to his cheekbone.

Cold. Commanding. Controlled.

Everything her father trusted.

Everything she wanted to ruin.

"I'm getting hard just thinking about it," the stranger groaned, fumbling with his zipper.

Sienna's gaze didn't leave Killian.

"I changed my mind," she said suddenly.

"What?"

She slid off his lap, fixing her dress. "You're boring."

The man stood, angry and aroused. "Don't fuck with me, bitch. You think you can tease and walk away?"

Before his words finished hanging in the air, a blur of motion descended on him.

Killian moved like a weapon.

In one brutal strike, he had the guy slammed against the wall, his arm twisted, face smashed to the velvet. The entire lounge went still.

"Apologize," Killian ordered, voice like ice.

"F-Fuck-alright, alright, I'm sorry!"

He released him. The man stumbled away, humiliated, swearing under his breath as he disappeared down the stairs.

Killian turned to her.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"I was bored," she said, lips curving. "You looked like you could use a show."

Killian stared at her for a beat longer than necessary.

Then he grabbed her arm-not gentle, but not cruel...and pulled her through the side door, down a hall lined with locked private suites. No words were spoken.

The door shut behind them with a sharp click.

And then it began.

His hands were on her in a flash. One tangled in her hair, the other palming her ass, yanking her flush against his hard chest.

"You're a brat," he growled against her ear. "You think you can play with fire and not get burned?"

"I thought you were here to protect me," she whispered.

"I am," he snarled. "Even from yourself."

Then he kissed her.

No warning. No hesitation. Just heat.

Teeth clashed. Tongues battled. Her back slammed into the wall as he lifted her, her legs wrapping around him like they belonged there. His fingers dragged up the inside of her thigh, pausing only to rip her panties off with a savage grunt.

"Killian-" she gasped.

"Shut up."

His belt clanked. His pants dropped just enough. Her breath caught as she felt the hard, hot weight of him between her legs.

"You want to play grown-up games, princess?" he said, sliding his cock through her soaked folds. "Then take it like one."

He thrust into her in one smooth, brutal stroke.

She screamed.

Not out of pain-but because she'd never been taken like this. Not with reverence, not with hesitation. But with claiming. Like she was his to ruin.

And she loved every second of it.

His hands gripped her thighs as he pounded into her, rhythm savage, deep. The sound of skin against skin echoed in the small room, her moans mixing with his growls.

"God," she cried, head falling back. "You're insane."

"No," he gritted, driving deeper. "I'm the only man who knows how to handle you."

He grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. "Say it."

"Say what?"

"That you're mine."

Her eyes burned, lips parted. "Make me."

A wicked smirk tugged at his mouth.

He flipped her.

Bent her over the leather armchair in the room, shoved her dress up, and spanked her-once, hard enough to leave a sting.

"You don't give orders here."

His cock slid back in. She arched with a cry, gripping the armrests like her life depended on it.

Thrust after thrust, he worked her, broke her, rebuilt her.

And just as she was about to explode-

"Killian...!"

He stopped.

"Beg," he said.

"W...What?"

"You want to come? Then beg me for it."

She whimpered. The fire between her thighs unbearable.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, I need it-I need you-"

And just like that, he gave it to her.

They shattered together, breathless, shaking, tangled in lust and heat and things they weren't supposed to feel.

They stayed there for a minute-her slumped in his arms, his chest rising against her back.

And then, footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Killian straightened, suddenly alert.

Sienna reached for her ruined panties with a dazed smile. "Well. That escalated."

He didn't smile back.

Because in his pocket, his phone buzzed.

Unknown number. Encrypted.

He answered without a word.

A distorted voice came through. Cold. Controlled.

"Who the fuck is touching my daughter?"

Killian froze.

Sienna's smile dropped.

"You have ten minutes to explain yourself, Mr. Black," Marco DeLuca snarled. "Before I paint this city red with your blood."

Killian Black had been many things in his thirty-four years...soldier, assassin, mercenary. He'd stared down death in dark alleyways, in foreign deserts, and on the bloodied steps of his enemies.

But this...this was different.

Standing in front of Marco DeLuca, the man who ruled the East Coast mafia like a king commands his kingdom, Killian felt the familiar bite of risk...not fear, but the sharp anticipation of violence held just beneath the surface.

"You touched my daughter," Marco said.

Not a question. A declaration laced with restrained rage.

"I did," Killian replied, calm as ever.

"Did I fucking hire you to fuck her?"

"No."

"Then why was your cock inside my daughter before you even fired a bullet in her name?"

The room fell silent.

Lucien, Marco's right-hand man, stood at the edge of the office, his hand hovering over the pistol at his hip. His jaw ticked, his tattooed fingers twitching.

Killian didn't look at him. His eyes were on Marco.

"She was in danger. I eliminated the threat. The rest..." His jaw tightened. "It happened."

Marco's nostrils flared. He rose from behind his desk, slow and deliberate.

"I don't give a fuck what happened. She's mine, Killian. She's the one soft thing I have left in this godforsaken world, and you put your filthy hands on her like she's some street whore in a club."

Killian stood his ground. "She's not a little girl anymore. You put a grown woman in a club full of predators with no leash and expected her to behave like a nun. She pushed. I pushed back."

Marco's chair slammed into the wall as he strode forward, eyes blazing. "You think this is about her behavior? This is about you. You're not some teenage punk. You know the rules. You don't fuck the don's daughter."

Killian didn't flinch. "And you don't put your daughter in a warzone and expect her not to reach for the first man who makes her feel safe."

Lucien stepped forward. "That's enough."

Marco raised a hand, stopping him.

"You want to die for her, is that it?"

"No," Killian said. "But I will if I have to."

Marco stared at him.

A long beat of silence passed between them, so thick it could've been cut with a knife.

Then, slowly, Marco turned and walked back to his desk.

"You're lucky I need you."

Killian exhaled quietly.

Marco grabbed a decanter and poured himself two fingers of bourbon. "You're going to protect her. From now on, you don't leave her side. Not at night. Not in public. Not even to take a piss unless I say so. She's your job. Your shadow."

Killian nodded. "Understood."

Marco took a sip, then added, "Touch her again without my blessing, and I'll rip your heart out and feed it to the rats in my wine cellar."

Lucien smirked.

"Understood," Killian said again.

"Good." Marco looked up. "Because you'll be sleeping under the same roof. I want eyes on her at all times."

Killian's expression didn't change, but inside, a flicker of something dangerous sparked.

Sleeping under the same roof?

He knew what that meant.

Temptation. Constant. Unrelenting.

Sienna's Bedroom – Later That Night

Sienna sat on her window seat, knees tucked under her chin, gazing out at the vast, moonlit grounds of her father's estate. Her long black hair tumbled over her shoulder, and her silk robe clung to her like temptation sewn in satin.

She heard the knock before she saw him.

"Come in," she said softly, not turning.

The door creaked open.

"I'm not supposed to be here," Killian's deep voice rumbled.

"I know," she whispered.

She didn't move.

He stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the soft light from the hallway. His black shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tattoos peeking through like whispers of violence.

"I thought he'd kill you," she said.

"He almost did."

She finally looked at him. "And yet, you came."

Killian stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

"I'm your bodyguard now. Twenty-four seven. No more distance."

Her brow lifted. "Convenient."

He crossed the room, each step heavy with restraint. "Don't twist this."

"Too late." She stood and walked toward him slowly. "Tell me you didn't think about last night all day. Tell me you don't want to do it again. Right now."

He caught her by the wrist before she could touch him. His grip was firm but not painful.

"Sienna..."

"I liked the way you said my name when you were inside me," she whispered, stepping closer.

"You're not helping."

"You're not stopping."

"I should."

"But you won't."

He looked into her eyes, and she saw it...the fire he tried to bury beneath duty.

A knock on the door made them both jump.

Lucien's voice came through. "We've got a situation. Living room. Now."

Killian released her hand. The moment shattered.

She watched him go, her pulse still racing.

Main Hall – Ten Minutes Later

Marco stood at the center of the room, holding a tablet. His face was thunder.

Killian and Lucien arrived together.

Marco didn't say a word. He just turned the screen to face them.

A paused video feed.

Sienna.

Walking out of Club Crimson last night.

Someone had circled her face in red.

And under the image, in jagged white font:

"If he can't protect her from himself... he can't protect her from me."

Killian's blood ran cold.

"Where did it come from?" he asked.

"Encrypted email. Sent directly to me, and only me."

"Could be one of the rival families," Lucien muttered.

"No," Killian said darkly. "This is personal."

Marco turned to him, voice low. "You said someone had a wire at the club."

"I did."

"This means whoever was listening wasn't after me," Marco said slowly. "They were after her."

Killian's jaw clenched. "They're escalating."

"Damn right they are." Marco pointed at him. "If she gets so much as a paper cut..."

"She won't."

Marco nodded. "Good. Because if she does, I'll bury you with her."

Later That Night – Sienna's Wing

Killian stood outside her door.

He hadn't knocked yet.

He'd just been standing there. Listening.

Through the door, he heard music. Soft. Some jazz record playing in the background. The clink of ice in a glass.

He knocked twice.

She answered in a different robe...this one black and barely tied, her cleavage framed like an invitation.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

He stepped inside, shut the door, locked it.

Then he showed her the image.

Her mouth parted slightly.

"They're threatening me?" she said.

"Yes."

"Because of you?"

"Yes."

Something glittered in her eyes. Not fear. Not anger.

Thrill.

She licked her lips. "I've never had someone want me dead before. Over sex."

Killian growled. "This isn't a game."

"I know." She stepped closer. "But I'm not scared."

"You should be."

"I'm not scared," she repeated. "Because you're here."

Her fingers brushed his jaw.

He didn't pull away.

"Say it," she whispered.

"Say what?"

"That you want me."

"No."

"Say it."

He stared down at her. "You're the most reckless, infuriating, impossible woman I've ever met."

"And?"

"I want you."

She smiled.

Just as the glass window behind her exploded.

Sienna screamed as Killian grabbed her and hit the floor.

Gunshots. Two. No...three.

Killian shielded her body with his, rolling them toward the side of the bed.

He pulled his gun from his waistband, already moving, eyes sweeping the shadows.

"Stay down!" he barked.

Sirens blared in the distance. Guards shouted in the hallway.

And in the wreckage of shattered glass and wind, Killian saw it.

A sniper's note pinned to the curtain with a bullet.

In red ink, it read:

"Round one. Try again, protector."

The wind was sharp against Sienna's cheeks as she leaned over the railing of her bedroom balcony. Somewhere in the distance, sirens howled, but they were faint...almost drowned out by the pounding in her chest.

Killian hadn't spoken a word since dragging her back into the house after the gunshots. He'd shut her door and disappeared.

Her fingers curled around the railing. She didn't know what scared her more...the sniper's bullet or the look on Killian's face when he saw that note.

A knock came, low and firm.

Before she could respond, the door opened. Killian stepped inside, his shirt clinging to his chest with dried blood...someone else's, not his. A dark graze marked his shoulder where the bullet had barely missed him.

"You should lock your door," he said coldly.

"You have a key."

He ignored her and stepped to the window, peering out like a wolf scenting danger. His hand brushed the inside of his jacket...always ready.

She didn't want to ask, but she had to. "What did the note say?"

Killian didn't answer immediately. Then he turned, eyes unreadable. "It was meant for me."

"You?"

Her stomach flipped. "And what now?"

Killian came closer. Too close.

"You'll follow my rules now. No exceptions. You leave this room only when I say. You breathe when I allow it."

"I'm not your prisoner-"

"You're under my protection. And I'm done playing nice."

He was angry. Controlled, but deeply, blisteringly angry. She could see it in the taut line of his jaw, the way he didn't blink.

She stepped forward anyway. "Why do you care so much?"

That froze him.

She didn't give him time to retreat. "You keep saving me, but you act like I'm the one invading your space. You touch me like you want me...and then vanish like I'm a disease."

Killian's eyes darkened. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" Her voice dropped. "Make you feel something?"

He exhaled sharply. "You're not some game, Sienna."

"Then stop treating me like one."

He backed away, but she followed.

"Do you want me?" she asked softly.

Killian's jaw clenched. "Yes."

"Then why-"

"Because your father gave me one order." He moved fast, closing the space between them in a blink. "No touching. No crossing the line. He made it very clear what happens if I fail."

Her breath hitched. "And what did you say?"

"I said I don't fail."

Their faces were inches apart now. His body radiated tension, restraint, heat.

"You're too dangerous, Sienna," he whispered.

She tilted her head up. "Or maybe I'm the only one not afraid of you."

A beat passed.

His hands went to her arms...firm, not rough...as he gently but firmly moved her away. "Go to bed."

"I'm not a child."

"No," he agreed, voice hoarse. "You're the goddamn temptation that's going to ruin me."

He turned and walked out without another word.

Leaving her breathless and burning.

Flashback – Aleppo, Four Years Ago

The smell of smoke and blood never left his memory.

Killian crouched beside the charred remains of a tent, pulling what was left of the U.S. ambassador's daughter into his arms. Too late.

She'd begged him to leave her and save the others. He hadn't listened.

She'd paid the price.

The militia had known his pattern. They waited for him to go soft. To care.

That day, Killian had learned a rule he never forgot: Caring gets people killed.

Estate Courtyard – The Next Morning

The sun hadn't risen fully, but Killian was already on the training mats behind the east wing, sweat beading across his temples.

He moved like a shadow-silent, fluid, precise. Punches cut the air in vicious arcs. His blade drills were even faster. The target dummies bore the brunt of his sleeplessness.

Lucien watched from the stone steps, arms folded.

"You trying to impress her or exorcise something?"

Killian didn't pause. "Both."

Lucien gave a low chuckle. "You look like hell."

"Good. It keeps people back."

Lucien lit a cigarette. "You know he'll never forgive you if this ends badly."

Killian sheathed his blade. "He won't have to."

Lucien tossed the cigarette to the ground. "I liked you better when you didn't give a shit."

Killian turned toward him. "That's the problem. I still don't give a shit. Except about her."

Lucien's gaze sharpened. "Then we have a bigger problem than we thought."

Library – Later That Day

Sienna sat in the dim, wood-paneled library, curled in a leather chair with a book she wasn't reading. The quiet should've calmed her. It didn't.

Lucien stepped inside without knocking.

"Is barging into rooms a family trait?" she asked.

He smirked. "Only when the rooms have people worth barging in on."

She didn't look up. "What do you want, Lucien?"

"Just a chat."

"About?"

"Killian."

Her eyes flicked to his face.

Lucien's tone turned serious. "He's good. But even the best make mistakes when they're distracted."

"I'm not a distraction."

"You're a car crash waiting to happen."

She stood, chin tilted defiantly. "He's the one keeping distance. I didn't ask for this."

"No. But you like that he can't touch you without consequence."

Her lips parted.

Lucien leaned in. "You want him to choose you over your father. That's what this is about."

She slapped him.

Hard.

Lucien just smiled and stepped back.

"Touchy subject," he said.

And then he left.

Leaving Sienna breathing hard, fists clenched...uncertain if he was wrong.