Dirty Pleasures – The Lion and the Mouse Read Online Kenya Wright

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 140940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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But then. . .her pain. . .was my pain.

And right now we were both in pain over Max.

And for the first time since learning about her, I truly understood how Lunita and I, were truly two sides of the same coin.

Fractured parts of a whole.

Inseparable.

Intertwined.

The boundaries between us, once so distinct in my mind, began to blur, merging into a singular consciousness.

The realization hit me hard.

I’m sorry, Lunita.

I felt her pain as distinctly as I felt my own.

It was a mirror image of the heartache that I had tried to compartmentalize.

It was a shared suffering.

Tears blurred my vision, not just from sorrow, but from the overwhelming sense of unity.

I opened my eyes and looked up at Kaz. “She’s really sad.”

“And you are sad.”

“Y-yes.” I swallowed. “I can almost. . .feel her crying now. . .on the roof. . .ripping flowers out of her hair. . .screaming. The sky thundering up above.”

The line of his jaw twitched. “And what do you want to do, mysh?”

“I. . .” Tears left my eyes. “I want to hold her.”

Sighing, he kissed my forehead some more.

“She knew him longer than me. . .” I shivered. “And. . .she not only saved me at times, but she saved him too.”

Kaz leaned back, and all I saw was love in his gaze.

I sniffled. “And she feels helpless and just wants to kill and I get it.”

“Why?”

“Because I just want to kill.”

“In many ways, you two are one in the same.”

I trembled and looked away. “Maybe. . .at least in this moment. . .”

More pain throbbed within.

And I truly knew that it was a shared agony.

I kept my head rested against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart.

It was a grounding rhythm.

Kaz spoke, “Is she still talking to you?”

“No.” I closed my eyes. “But. . .you have to put me in a separate room with extra guards tonight just in—”

“I will not.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Yes, Kaz.”

“No, mysh.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I will handle, Lunita, if she comes.”

“No you will not. By the way, I said what I said, Kaz—”

“I am not Tisha or Valentina. I am the Lion.”

I glared.

“And my mouse lays next to me—”

“She wants to come out—”

“Let her come out—”

“Kaz—”

“I will talk to her.”

“And say what? Hey, Lunita. Don’t cut my penis off.”

“Perhaps, I will promise to get her a good bit of men to slice this week.”

“We are not doing that?”

“We are. She is in pain. If she wants to kill, then we will let her kill, but under my watch—”

“This is crazy.”

“It will work.”

“Kaz. . .if she hurts you. . .”

“Lunita will never hurt me—”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“I know her, mysh. Better than you do.”

I shook my head. “I am telling you that—”

“In the club, you trusted me.”

I swallowed. “I did. That was different.”

“It is not.” He kissed my forehead. “In the hospital, I stood silent and trusted you.”

I trembled. “That was different.”

“It is not.”

“Kaz, if you let Lunita wake you up, then you are not trusting anything, you are having faith that a psychotic killer will not do what she does best, which is slice.”

“I plan to have Boris and Wassily sit inside of our bedroom as we sleep tonight.”

Tension gathered in my shoulders. “This still is faith, not trust.”

“It is trust in Lunita, and you are trusting me too. Can you do that?”

“I don’t want to. It scares me. I can’t lose—”

“Trust me.”

“Kaz—”

“Trust me like you trusted me this evening.”

I could see the determined glint in his eyes.

He wasn’t asking, he was imploring.

Pleading for me to trust him.

To trust them.

And while the logical part of my mind screamed at me to deny Kaz outright, I found myself hesitating.

Maybe, it was the rum.

Perhaps, it was the weed.

Whatever it was, this primal part of me, some instinctual force, understood that this was a necessary step.

A bridge we had to cross.

So against my better judgement, against all the screams inside my head, against Lunita’s compulsion for destruction and violence, I allowed myself to whisper a shaky, “Okay.”

His eyes softened. “Thank you.”

I held onto him tight, as though he were a lifeline keeping me from being swept away by the storm of fear threatening to capsize me.

God. . .please don’t let me regret this.

Chapter thirty-seven

The Phases of the Moon

Kazimir

An hour later, I stood on our bedroom’s balcony, wearing only pajama pants.

A cool breeze gently brushed against my skin.

Tonight, the French Quarter was quiet due to our taking several blocks over.

The lively jazz music that normally filled the air, the laughter and chatter of tourists, and the clinking of glasses from the crowded bars—all had been replaced by silence.

Blocks—normally awash with the warm glow of streetlights and neon signs—now lay in subdued darkness.

The iconic wrought-iron balconies, often witnesses to the city’s endless festivities, stood empty, their usual occupants having retreated indoors.



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