After Happily Ever Afte- Astrid Ohletz Page 0,27

was it even possible for Alison to have been identified here?

No one alive in the underworld even knew of the connection between them. If this woman had managed to figure out Alison’s identity, then that would be it—Requiem would end her. Immediately. Because no one threatened her mouse, or those whom Alison loved.

No one.

Decided, Requiem glanced at the three exits she’d assessed earlier, as she did every time she entered a room: the window, the air vent, the door. She calculated her options. How it could be done efficiently. How it could be done with minimal mess.

“What’s her name?” the woman was saying casually, as though she hadn’t just signed her own death warrant. “I’ve seen her. She looks adorable. Where on earth did you find her? The library? At the stage door, clutching an autograph book?” She laughed.

Requiem’s nostrils flared. It was the only reaction that betrayed her enormous relief. She didn’t know. She didn’t have a damned clue. Alison was safe. Her heart reduced its manic thudding to a less furious juddering roll of a timpani drum.

“She’s sweet, yes, anyone could see that, but where is the challenge?” The women smirked, heedless to the danger that had been coating the air like ash moments before. “You need letting off the domestic leash. You were never meant to be a pet.”

She stepped right inside Requiem’s space, fingers brushing her jaw, and it took every ounce of effort not to crush her for her insult to Alison. Requiem’s entire focus and being went into revealing nothing at all of her emotional state.

“So what’s it going to be?” the woman asked, sounding bored. “Shall we make a deal? Meet my boss? You’re not the only one on my list, you know. Yes, you’re at the top, obviously, but I can headhunt someone else. So are you willing? Do you wish to…fill my slot?”

Requiem gave her a stony look, the woman’s charm having evaporated the moment she’d dared speak a word about Alison. She could not believe she had weakened briefly in the face of temptation. It wasn’t worth it. She knew that. The rush that came from a power fuck was just that—hormones, highs, and control, all in a sticky mess. Ultimately meaningless.

For Alison, though, the sexual act was a different thing, entirely one of love. She saw it framed in softness, tenderness, and care. For Alison, it was never about release or power. For her, it was about sweetness, lightness, and surrendering to someone. And while Requiem did none of these things…Alison did. She would never brush off sex with someone else as nothing. This deal with the devil would not be nothing to her.

The woman was watching Requiem carefully. She was so close Requiem could feel her breath, smell the faint musk of her arousal. The woman arched herself forward, pressing her breasts into Requiem. Sweetening the deal, she probably thought.

Natalya leaned forward and ran her finger over the erect, bared nipple. It was soft, warm, and oh-so-inviting. Just like old times. Old times that did not have Alison in them. Requiem tapped the nipple pointedly. “I think not,” she said with a cool glance and stepped back.

Because it came down to one thing: the mere thought of the crushing disappointment in Alison’s eyes if she ever found out Requiem had screwed someone else, even just to teach the cocky creature a lesson, would crush the air from Requiem’s lungs.

She could see Alison packing her bags and leaving, because she surely would, given she was that sort of woman. Alison was soft but substantial. Sweet but fierce. She had her pride and Requiem admired her for it, especially after a life of Alison being taught that her needs were nothing and that she was inconsequential. She’d spent most of her adult life believing that her sum worth was that of a nursemaid to her emotionally abusive, narcissistic mother.

When she had broken free, a piece of fire had entered her eyes and never left. It satisfied Requiem beyond words to see it. Women should know their worth. Alison knew hers. And her conditions had always been clear in agreeing to throw away her safe, respectable life and follow an unpredictable, dangerous, ex-assassin to Europe. Alison’s terms had been simple—they were equals and they now belonged to each other.

The image of Alison’s faith and affection flickering and dying…the look of betrayal…it would be like a dagger’s stab. If anyone else had inflicted pain like that on Alison, Requiem would have torn