Blood and Bone: (Royal Blood #6) by Amity Cross Page A

taste, I replied, “If you’re embarrassed, then be quiet.”
    “X…” She hesitated, and when it came to this, she never thought twice.
    “You were hurt today,” I whispered. “You know why I need you.”
    Her gaze met mine and it was full of understanding. “I know,” she said. “But—”
    Leaning forward, I pressed my lips against hers, silencing her complaint before she could voice it again.
    “Never question this,” I said, pulling away.
    Her gaze dropped to my lips, and she shook her head. “Never.”
    Ridding her of her clothes, I set her down on the bed, forgetting that we had an audience in the other room. Knowing a little about how Jackson operated, I knew he’d be so focused on his work that he would surface hours later none the wiser.
    Her hands traced the outline of my tattoo, palming each scar as I kissed a trail along her chest. Sucking a nipple into my mouth, I teased her sensitive flesh with my teeth.
    Her breath was sharp, but she never uttered a sound…even when I thrust my cock deep inside her body. I worshipped her, caressing slowly until we rose to the place where our souls united in the darkness of our lives. The spark that held the monster at bay.
    It was the first time I’d made complete love to her. There were no harsh words between us. Just soft murmurings that were undecipherable as we came.
    It was the softest I’d ever been in my entire life—and she knew it.
    Xavier Blood had evolved yet again.
----
    M ercy and I emerged , freshly showered, some hours later.
    Jackson was still in the armchair where we’d left him, the glow of his laptop the only thing lighting the room. When Mercy flicked on the lamp, he jumped a mile.
    “Miss Reid!” he exclaimed.
    “Any progress?” she asked, finding a spot on the couch.
    “Some but it’s slow going.”
    “What have you got?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing my arms over my chest.
    “A hit on your mystery woman,” he declared proudly.
    “I don’t suppose you’ve got a photograph?”
    “Yeah, actually.” He turned the laptop around to reveal an image of the woman who’d tried it on with me in that alley. It was a grainy surveillance still lifted from CCTV footage, but it was definitely her.
    Jackson continued his explanation. “She’s a gun for hire, but mostly, she seems to work for herself. No known associates, multiple aliases…the list goes on. She’s been linked to several assassinations of Russian officials. Military and government.”
    “Could she be Russian Intelligence?” Mercy asked.
    “While we fought, her accent slipped,” I mused. “She’s skilled enough to mask her identity, but it’s possible.” Nodding at Jackson, I asked, “Do we have a name?”
    “She goes by the handle Banshee. Other than multiple discarded aliases, there’s nothing to determine her true identity or country of origin.”
    “Banshee? That’s a tad dramatic,” I drawled, rolling my eyes. “How is it that I’ve never heard of her?”
    “She operates in Continental Europe and Russia mostly,” he explained, “targeting corruption and the odd terrorist or arms dealer.”
    “ Great . A vigilante with a chip on her shoulder.”
    “Do you think she’ll be trouble?” Mercy asked.
    “Hard to say,” I replied. “Now we have a photograph, we can keep an eye out for her.”
    “Just another piece of an elaborate puzzle,” she mused. “I wonder what her interest in Moltke is about?”
    “I’ll be sure to ask again next time she fucks up a tail,” I retorted.
    “I’ve also got a lead on that if you want to hear,” Jackson said, waving his hand to get our attention.
    “Spit it out,” I demanded, my interest zeroing in on our slippery target. He could surface anywhere, and we had to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. If there was a lead, we were following it to the end.
    “Bateman is going to the UK,” Jackson said. “I picked up some chatter.”
    “But Gruber…” Mercy began.
    “Seems