Bought By Santa (Seasonal Obsessions #1)

Chapter 30

The Santa

T he silence engulfing us as I usher my hellcat through the door to the apartment is a living thing, pulsing with sorrow. She doesn’t speak; her eyes are glassy, haunted orbs. I can see the weight of grief pressing down on her shoulders.

“Let’s get you to bed,” I murmur, my voice roughened by the day’s emotion. It’s an unspoken command, and she merely nods, allowing me to guide her to our room.

I shuffle her over to the bed where she obediently sits down. While I undress her, she looks straight ahead; not at me or anything specific. I get the sense that she isn’t even seeing what’s in front of her.

As I undress her, she lifts her arms when I ask for it, her hips when I need to pull her pants down. But other than that, she’s completely immovable. Seeing her like this breaks my damn heart. This isn’t the Carolina I’ve come to know and love, this… this is an imposter; her shadow-self.

Once she’s tucked under the duvet, her breaths evening out in the dim light, I leave her side. The need to act—to do something—is burning through my veins. Willow’s cremation was supposed to offer closure, but instead, it’s opened a festering wound. Then again, who can get closure in the span of just mere hours?

Fuck!

My study awaits, shrouded in shadows. I don’t bother with lights. Instead, I allow the darkness to envelop me, a mirror to the turmoil churning within. Reports lay scattered across the desk, and I pick through them with cold precision, the lights coming from the windows allow me to read each paper carefully.

My mind races; every scenario it conjures up is more brutal than the last. Someone dared to aim at my inner circle, at my family. They’ll regret it.

I’m pacing the study, a predator caged by his own fury, when Marco slips through the door, a specter against the shadows. His presence is both a balm and an agitator to my frayed nerves. “Nicklas,” he begins, his voice as steady as ever, “we’ve taken care of the loose ends.”

Flicking the light on, I snap, “I want details.” My eyes are fixed on the city’s lights that dare twinkle, as if mocking me.

“The police are already in our pocket, so we know they won’t dig deep. The restaurant staff have been handled—memories erased with crisp bills. Cameras, phones, anything that could have caught something, it’s all ash now,” Marco reports methodically.

“Good.” My jaw clenches, the simmering anger threatening to boil over. I trust Marco, but trust isn’t enough. Not this time.

Willow was innocence personified, and her death screams for vengeance. Carolina will want it—demand it. And I, well, I want to give her anything her now stained heart desires.

“Find out who did this,” I order, my voice low, lethal. “I don’t care how deep you have to go or whose blood needs spilling. They took one of mine. I want them brought to me.”

Marco nods once, the ghost of a grim smile touching his lips. He knows. There’s no line I won’t cross, not anymore. “I’ll give the order,” he says before slipping back into the night from whence he came.

“And call the three,” I shout after him.

It doesn’t take long before my most trusted men file in; Lee, Dominic, and Sergei. They’re stone-faced, ready for war, and hungry for retribution. The air crackles with tension as they wait for my command.

“Someone made the mistake of thinking they can touch what’s mine,” I begin, voice ice-cold, every word a sharpened knife. “Willow Sterling’s death wasn’t just a tragedy; it was a message. And I intend to reply in kind.”

They stand rigid, their silence a testament to their readiness.

“Pull in every favor. Crack open every secret. No mercy. We find who’s behind this, and we end them,” I continue, my resolve steel-hard. “But I want them alive.”

“Understood,” Lee says, his hand already on his gun.

“Nobody fucks with the Knights,” Dominic adds, his dark eyes gleaming with fury.

“Blood will answer blood,” Sergei vows, his Russian accent thickening his promise.

“Get to work,” I dismiss them, each man dissipating like wraiths on a mission of death.

The moment I’m alone, I allow myself a single breath, letting the beast of rage rest, but only for a heartbeat. Carolina’s face flashes across my vision, her grief-stricken eyes fueling my resolve. Whoever did this didn’t just aim at Willow. They aimed at us.

I move over to the window, looking at the city as it sprawls out before me, a network of shadows and secrets that belong to me. It’s a chessboard, and I am the king—Knight—poised for a deadly game.

My fingers drum against the window, the glass as cold and unyielding as my resolve. I’m missing something, I know I am. There’s more to all of this, I can feel it in my very marrow. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle where you know what piece is missing, even where it fits. Yet you don’t know exactly what’s on it.

What the hell am I missing?

The harder I try to think about it, the more my thoughts scatter. Mental images of blood and bullets assault me, but the more I try to latch on to each thought, the farther away it seems.

Carolina’s face flashes in my mind, her eyes haunted with grief that cuts deeper than any blade I own. That pain—her pain—fans the flames of my rage, igniting a dark promise within me.

I will rip apart every alley, every high rise, every hidden corner until I unearth the bastard who dared to shatter her world.

My thoughts are a whirlwind, but suddenly they screech to a halt; I need her. The need to see her, to ensure she’s safe and here and mine, propels me from the room, and I find myself moving through the apartment with purpose.

The bedroom door creaks open, and it’s like walking into a void. Empty. She’s not here. Panic claws at my chest, a fierce growl building inside me. I charge from room to room, my heart a thunderous beat in my ears until I find her.

I chuckle to myself when I finally find her; she’s lying naked on the marital bed, an ethereal figure bathed in the dim light. My breath catches; she’s so vulnerable, so beautiful it hurts to look at her. Her blonde hair fans out across the pillow like a halo, her soft curves illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the windows.

I can’t move, can’t think. All I can do is watch her sleep, feel the possessive pull tighten around my soul. My gaze roams over her, protective instincts warring with a darker, more obsessive yearning.

Fuck, I’m torn between the urge to shield her from the world and the desire to claim every inch of her. “Mine,” I whisper to the silence, a vow that is both promise and curse.

A curse because I suspect her sister is dead because of me, because I forced her into my life. Even as I think that, I regret nothing. Does that make me a cold asshole? Maybe. A ruthless knight, definitely. But I’m her Knight, and I proudly carry the scars on my chest to prove it.

Carolina stirs, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and I realize this moment is a crossroads between madness and salvation. I’ll choose her every time, even if it means painting New York red with vengeance. Because she’s the beacon guiding me through the darkness, the reason my world still has any light left in it.

“Nick?” Her voice is a whisper in the dark, laden with need. She’s awake now, gaze heavy-lidded but focused on me with an intensity that burns through my resolve.

“Go back to sleep,” I say, attempting to maintain control over my urges, but my tone is laced with the dangerous edge of a man on the brink. “I’m here.”

“Make me feel, Nick. Please.” Her plea scrapes against my restraint. Her tone is pure desperation; raw and painful.

I close the distance between us in two strides, my hands framing her face. “You want to drown out the pain?” I ask, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation.

“I need you to make me feel,” she repeats, and I’m undone.

As quickly as possible, I get rid of my clothes before joining her on the bed. She pulls me down to her, and our lips meet in a collision of shared agony and yearning.

Her fingers trail fire across my inked skin, drawing me further into the depths where only she and I exist. I groan as she begins stroking my rigid cock, pumping it hard and fast. “Carolina!”

“Touch me,” she begs. “Please, Nick. I need… I need to feel something.”

Deepening the kiss, I push my hand between her legs, cupping her cunt. She isn’t wet yet, which tells me more than anything just how fucked her mind must be. I roll her clit slowly with two fingers, and I can feel the exact moment she becomes turned on.

Throwing her head back, she moans loudly, her hips chasing my hand as I pull back. “Don’t stop,” she pouts.

“Never,” I vow as I kiss my way down her body, lavishing each tit in nips, licks, and bites before I continue my journey south.

I don’t stop until I’m inhaling her arousal and her small landing strip grazes my nose. Her breath hitches in anticipation. I want to take my time with her, to make this about more than just the physical. My hellcat wants to feel, and I want her to feel me everywhere.

As I bury my head in her cunt, sucking her clit between my teeth, I feel the tension in her body, the way she’s holding on to something, and I know it’s more than just grief. It’s everything—everything she’s been through, everything she’s feeling or stopping herself from feeling.

She lifts her hips, urging me on, but I’m going to do this at my pace. So I place my hand on her pubic bone, pressing down so she can’t move. “Feel me,” I rasp. “Feel what I do to you.” I inhale deeply, taking in the faint scent of her, something uniquely hers, something that always drives me wild.

I flatten my tongue, eagerly licking the length of her cunt, tasting her cream. Then harden my tongue, focusing on her needy nub while pushing two fingers into her slick channel, moving them in and out so slowly I know it’s driving her insane.

“Nick!” she complains, her fingers tangling in my hair, and I can feel the shift in her, the way she’s letting go, giving herself over to the moment.

I focus on her entirely; the way she tastes, the way she moves, and every little sound she makes. I want her to let go of the dark thoughts in her head, even if it’s just for a little while.

“Come for me, Hellcat,” I rasp, moving my fingers in and out of her faster, adding more pressure to her bud.

Her feet dig into the mattress beneath us, and she tightens her hold on my hair, pulling me closer to her opening. “More,” she demands. “I need… I need… Oh, fuck! Nick!”

I continue to lick and finger her through her orgasm, curling my fingers inside her so I hit the spot that has her mewling incoherently. I don’t stop until her trembles and moans lessen, and then I greedily thrust my tongue into her opening so I can drink her nectar.

“Fuck,” I curse as I rut into the mattress like a feral animal. I can feel the wet stain underneath me, but I don’t fucking care. Not when I have my mouth on her sex and my tongue inside her cunt.

As she pants, trying to get her breathing under control, I lick her pretty cunt one more time before I make my way up her body, biting each of her nipples before I lie down next to her and claim her lips.

I fucking love knowing she’s tasting herself, so I stroke her tongue harder, faster. The kiss is scorching. Grabbing her thigh, I throw it over my hip, angling myself so the tip of my cock rubs between her drenched folds.

“Are you ready for me?” I groan.

“Yes!” she moans. “Fill me with your big cock, Nick.”

Entering her, slow and deep, I watch as she unravels before me. A gasp escapes her, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. My name falls from her lips like a benediction, fueling my desire to worship her.

Once I’m all the way inside her, I stay there for a moment, not moving until she’s ready. Or at least that was my intention. But my hellcat rakes her nails down my back, urging me to move, and I oblige with a hunger that matches hers.

She cants her hips, meeting me thrust for thrust. I’m so deep inside her that I can barely stand it. My head is resting in the crook of her neck, and I can’t resist biting the soft skin, which draws a guttural moan from her.

“Yes! That’s it… hurt me,” she mewls.

I continue to fuck her as I move my head back, looking into her blue eyes. “What do you want me to do?” I ask. “Use your words, Carolina. There’s nothing I won’t do for you. All you have to do is tell me.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “I think…” Trailing off, she licks her lips. “I want you to cut me.”

I wasn’t expecting that, but I’m not dumb enough to question her. If this is what she wants, I’m the luckiest guy in the fucking world. There’s nothing I want more than to see my hellcat bleed for me. As if to prove my point, my cock jerks, becoming impossibly harder inside her.

“Look at me,” I command. Her eyes snap to mine, and there’s a silent exchange of vows in that gaze. Normally, no words are needed when our bodies speak volumes, but I need to make sure she knows what she’s asking me for. “How do you want me to cut you?”

Her brows furrow, creating a small divot between them as she thinks it through. “I want… umm, I don’t know. I just… I came in here because I was dreaming about it when I was alone in our bed, and I woke up so wet I wanted to try it for real.”

Before I can say anything, she reaches underneath the pillow, pulling out the knife I used to carve her initials into my chest. She must have found it in the drawer I hid it in after cleaning it.

“And I want you to use this.”

I take the knife from her, holding it up in the air so the blade glints in the light. “And you’re sure?” I ask, thrusting into her again.

“Yes,” she sighs needily. “Beyond sure.”

“Where do you want my cut?” I rasp. I let the tip of the knife glide over the swell of her tit. “Here?” I move it to her cleavage. “Or here?” Then I trail it down her body to the place just above her hip bone. “Or maybe you imagined it more like here?”

The sound she makes is like a purr, reminding me why all my names for her are of the feline variety. “Yes. There.” She wiggles her hips, pushing back against the knife.

I make the first cut. It’s shallow, more symbolic than anything, but it elicits a sharp intake of breath from her. The sight of crimson on her porcelain skin is intoxicating, pushing me further. I cut her on the other side.

“Are you feeling this?” I groan, pausing so I can thrust into her once, twice… five times.

“Mhmm,” she confirms with a moan. “I feel you everywhere.”

Without pulling out of her, I twist us so she’s on her back and I’m positioned between her spread legs, hovering above her. “Do you want more?” I ask, my voice husky.

She winds her legs around me, digging her heels into my ass to get me deeper in her greedy cunt. “I want everything you have to give,” she pants. She gyrates her hips and bucks, fucking herself on me.

I grip the knife tighter, letting the tip skim the area between her tits before adding more pressure, watching as her blood rushes to the surface of her split skin. Needing to taste the red essence, I lean down, licking the length of the cut. I moan; it’s a guttural sound, as the coppery taste explodes on my tongue.

“Fuck!” I throw the knife to the side, hearing it clang against the floor. “I need to fuck you. Hard.”

Her eyes are dazed as she looks up at me. Lifting her hand, she runs her thumb across my lips, and when I look down, there’s a bead of blood on the tip. I close my mouth around her digit while I mercilessly slam into her, and bite the soft skin.

Then I claim her lips; her tongue delves into my mouth, our saliva mixing with her blood. The taste is potently delicious, spurring me on further. I feel like a man possessed as I piston my hips. The only sound in the room is our heavy breathing and our skin slapping together over and fucking over.

“Hellcat,” I groan out, feeling the familiar coil of heat in my abdomen. I quicken the pace, chasing the edge with her. “My cock is fucking perfect for breeding you. Can you feel how thick and swollen I am? Just. For. You!”

“Nick… I’m—”

I press her thighs up to her shoulders, fucking her even deeper than before. Her moans intensify as she clenches around me. Leaning back, I admire the sight of my hardness sliding in and out of her tight heat.

“Come on my cock,” I command, and she does, her body surrendering to the onslaught of pleasure. She comes so hard, squirting, that it feels like her body is both trying to push me out and suck me in deeper.

“Oh, Hellcat, you’re so fucking perfect. Your cunt was made for me,” I groan, loving the sensation of all the wetness she’s expelling. “Are you ready for my cum?”

“Yes!” she screams, still contracting around me.

I climax so hard my vision distorts. My cum is flooding her drenched channel, and I keep my cock deep inside her, making sure not a drop of me is spilling out.

We’re a tangle of limbs and soaked sheets, the coppery scent of blood lingering in the air. In this moment, boundaries cease to exist. We are one, bound by shared scars and a love forged in the darkest corners of our souls.