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Chapter Fourteen: Another Close Call Pt 1
Last Updated:
2023-10-11 21:56:15
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Codename: Aconite Chapter Fifteen: Another Close Call Pt 2
I take a frustrated breath and examine my shoulder once again. It’s still bleeding, just not as much as it would be if not for that bullet. I get up, walk across the room, and open the mini bar, pulling out a baby bottle of vodka, which I proceed to unscrew with my teeth and down the entire bottle in one gulp. I make a face and toss the bottle in the trashcan across the room. I lean against the dresser and take a deep breath as I reflect on the fucking mess I’ve gotten myself into and how my next order of business is to get my shoulder fixed. I walk back to the bed to grab my cell phone when I hear a knock at the door. I quickly grab the dagger from my purse and make my way over to the door. I take a look through the peephole to see one of the hotel staff from the looks of him, and I immediately hope someone hasn’t reported my dishevelled state when I entered the building. “Can I help you?” I call out to the staff member in clear Russian. “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but there
Last Updated : 2023-10-11Codename: Aconite Chapter Sixteen: Another Close Call Pt 3
Time marches onward until I hear a knock at the door, and on instinct, I withdraw my dagger from the man’s dead body and hold it firmly in my palm, ready to use it again on the next person who dares to fuck with me. “Dasha?” I hear the familiar voice call out, and I immediately relax. I get up and go and open the door and look into the concerned face of Vsevolod Zubov. If you’re a member of the criminal underworld and you need medical assistance, Vsevolod is your man. He’s known throughout Europe and parts of Asia and makes a hell of a living off this deadly business, but he doesn’t help everyone, only those who make it worth his time or those he has a soft spot for, like myself. Vsevolod is 67 and looks like a man who has seen things few could ever even imagine. He’s 5’7” with fine lines and creased puffy eyes covering his peach-toned skin. He has dim cerulean eyes, short, thin greying hair that is pure white around the edges of his face, with a grey beard that just manages to hid
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“Would you like some more food, sweetheart?” Asks my grandmother with an encouraging smile. “If I eat anymore, I’m going to be sick,” I groan, rubbing my engorged stomach. “Don’t be ridiculous. A growing woman like you who is still healing needs lots of food. You need your energy,” she coaxes me while scooping more food onto my plate. “For heaven’s sake Viridis, stop force-feeding the poor girl, she’s clearly full,” says my grandfather in exasperation. I mouth a ‘thank you’ to him while my grandmother glares in his direction. “Mamma, I think she’s had enough,” adds my mother, while my father sips his drink to stay out of the conversation. “I’m just trying to take care of my granddaughter. Look at her, she’s skin and bones and healing from near-fatal wounds,” grandmother protests, flopping back down into her seat at the table. She and my mother go back and forth discussing my eating habits and my overall health while I sit back in my chair and enjoy the soothing warm breeze of th
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“I appreciate the worry and concern for my wellbeing but smothering me and treating me like a helpless child doesn’t make me heal faster nor does it help me in figuring out just how this all came about. So if you would like to be of help to me, rein it in and help me find out more about my former client,” I say, rising to my feet and grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair, slipping it on and untucking my hair as I feel a strain in my shoulder and neck. Yes, things still hurt and ache, and some movements hurt more than others, but I usually just tune it out. Especially around my guardian assassins. “You’re leaving?” Asks my father. “I have had a lovely lunch, but yes, I have to get home and get back to work,” I walk over and kiss my father’s cheek, and feel him affectionately cup the back of my head and kiss my cheek. My mother hugs me and kisses my other cheek as I kiss hers. I quickly hug my grandfather who hugs me back tightly and then hug my grandmother, who stubbornly igno
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I leisurely make my way down the hallway towards my apartment. I look down at the Tupperware container in my hands with an amused smile. While at my parent’s estate, the thought of eating another morsel of food had me fighting back regurgitation, but now as I approach my front door with this container of goodies, I can’t help but be tempted to take another bite, even at the risk of my stomach exploding like a Monty Python skit. What is it about Italian mothers? I think my grandmother picked the wrong Modis Operandi for her career. She should have just force-fed people to death, codename Nonna. With my keys in hand, I unlock my door and let myself in. The moment I shut the door behind me, I feel a sense of unease as I detect a distinctive and familiar scent of cologne. I don’t wear cologne. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I realise someone is in my apartment. The door didn’t look forced, so I’d be very interested to know how the fuck they got in. I place the Tupperwar
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As if possessed, my lips respond to his, kneading and feasting on his lips like a ravenous beast as I feel his tongue enter my mouth, exploring and consuming me from the inside. His free hand grasps the exposed flesh of my back, yanking me against him where I feel the firm bulge growing inside his trousers as he presses against the inside of my thigh. My acrylic nails claw down the back of his corset vest, yearning to dig into his flesh as I moan wantonly into his mouth. He sucks on my lips, licking them as if to claim them as he unbuttons and unzips my denim shorts. I follow suit, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly, pushing his trousers and briefs below his ass freeing his cock. As his kisses travel down to the exposed skin of my neck, sucking the flesh into his mouth, marking me as he goes, I look down at the new weapon he plans to use on me. My eyes are transfixed on the twitching organ between his legs, and I eagerly reach out, wrapping my hand around his hardened cock and
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After I clean up the state of my dining room and go to the bathroom to freshen up and put my shorts back on, I return to the dining room to find Silas standing there with his pants up but still undone. I quirk an eyebrow as I look at him inquisitively. He notices me and smirks, “You made a slight mess of my pants. I don’t suppose you have anything for me to wear, do you?” I snort in amusement. “I think I can wrangle something up for you.” I go into my spare room and rummage through the drawers until I find a black pair of men’s sweatpants. Castro has been known to leave a few items of clothing every now and then, and I’ve indulged him because I’m sure it’s not fun lounging around in suits. Castro and Silas are similar in size, so hopefully these will fit. I make my way back to the dining room and toss him the pants that he catches with ease. “These should fit, if not, too bad,” I say as I fold my arms over my chest, now starting to feel the ache in my shoulder, not to mention my f
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Rubbing my eyes, I shuffle my feet across my carpeted living room, and laminated dining room to come to a halt in my kitchen doorway. My tired eyes become completely alert along with my fuzzy brain as I rake in the sight of the 6’2” muscular work of art whisking a bowl of eggs at my kitchen island. Shirtless, I might add. He looks right at home, humming to himself while his muscles flex with every minute movement he makes. His black sweatpants hang low on his hips, but from here, the island is blocking my view of the goods I was hoping to ogle. However, I can't help the pang of guilt I feel when I take in the ugly knife wound to his abdomen. The bruising around the wound looks ghastly and the edges don't look as healthy as they should for over a month's worth of healing, but deadly poisons will do that to you. Despite that, he looks right at home. The sun streaming in through the Venetian blinds and dancing across his muscular frame, putting a spotlight on his many tattoos. I find my
Last Updated : 2023-10-30
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Sathariel stares at me, skin sickly grey and dripping with sweat, his eyes wide with fury and his body shaking as he leans on the table. “Kill her!” he snarls, deadly intent shining in his eyes. With a serene smile on my face, I tap my finger on the table, then clench it into a fist. A moment later one of Sathariel’s men drops to the floor, the pristine white furniture now redecorated with his brain matter, the other guards looking at his corpse in surprise as he lays on the floor, blood spilling from a bullet-size hole in his forehead. I’m sure the back of his head looks even worse. “Even think of pointing those guns at me and you’ll be joining your friend before you can even lift your arms,” I warn, glancing over at Sathariel’s men. “You might be good, but my guy is better.” They look from Sathariel to me then to the window and after a moment’s pause, they take a step back, lowering their weapons. “Are you crazy? Do your jobs and fucking kill her!” Castor screams, but no one pa
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FLASHBACK 3 DAYS AGO “Follow through, and the deal stays. Reneg… and you both die,” Sathariel warns as he gets up and steps back. I roll onto my front, slowly propping myself up on my hand and knees, groaning as I clutch my chest, discreetly untucking my locket from under my shirt and using my hair to shield myself. I quickly open the locket and let the capsule fall into my hand. I take a breath, coughing to mask the sound of my clasping the locket shut as I slowly rise to my feet, swaying a little as the ache in my skull makes my head spin. I slip the capsule between two fingers as I finally lock eyes with Silas, who hasn’t said a word. His eyes are frozen, watching my every step as I slowly stalk towards him. “I bet you regret telling me you trust me now, huh,” I say smugly, earning barely a glimmer of a reaction from him as I try to convey a silent message to him. He said he trusted me with his life, I just hope I don’t let him down. I haven’t had a chance to test this out on a
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He reaches up, squeezing my breast firmly as he licks and sucks at the top of my breasts when the sound of a throat clearing interrupts the moment. “What?!” he snaps, turning to glare at one of his men. “Forgive me, sir, but your guest is demanding to come up.” Sathariel takes a deep breath and looks up at me, as he fights against his hormones. “I have a gift for you.” “I can tell,” I smirk as I grind my pussy against his rock-hard cock. He groans, his eyes briefly rolling back before he opens them to look at me. “A different gift, one I think you’ll like even more.” With a curious look on my face, I get up off his lap and smooth out my dress, “This better be good.” He gets up, fixes his appearance, and comes to stand behind me, holding my hips as he presses his cock against my ass. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy this. After this we can celebrate,” he says, biting into my neck and thrusting his cock against my ass. I let out a soft moan as I reach back, cupping the back of his head.
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I slowly step into a gorgeous two-story penthouse apartment with a surprisingly breathtaking view of the city skyline through wall-to-wall windows. The sun is almost entirely set, giving the white furnishing a stunning, electric purple and pink glow. As I go to take another step, I’m held in place by my pervy escort. He spreads my arms wide, kicking my legs apart as he begins to pat me down. Overly thorough if you ask me. I glare back at him as his hands cup my breasts. “One needs to be wearing a bra to hide something in it, Einstein.” Fucker couldn’t have done this before we got on the plane? Once satisfied that he’s violated me enough, the chauffeur disappears behind the elevator doors as I step further into the luxurious penthouse only to see a table for two set up just past the living space. I register the popping of a cork as I look towards the open kitchen, only to see Sathariel pouring two glasses of champagne. “I take it your journey here was comfortable,” he greets warmly
Codename: Aconite Chapter Forty-Eight: A Toast to Deception Pt 1
Exiting my apartment I’m greeted by a tall chauffeur standing by a luxurious town car. His clothes are immaculate and his demeanour I would describe as friendly, but unassuming. As soon as he sees me, he opens the door to the backseat and holds it open for me. “Miss Aconite, I have been instructed to be your escort for the evening,” he says with a Peruvian accent, tipping his hat politely. “The entire evening?” I query as I walk to the car, tucking my clutch under my arm. “Yes, ma’am. I am to drive you to the airstrip where a jet will fly you to Germany. From there, I will drive you to where you will join Mr Guardian in Berlin for dinner this evening.” Mr Guardian. My mother will love that she was right in picking up on a third alias, but I’m still not sure if Lamar Guardian is Sathariel’s real name, or just another alias in a long line of aliases. While every assassin in our world is made infamous by their work and known by their codenames, Sathariel is a wholly different entity.
Codename: Aconite Chapter Forty-Seven: Invasion Pt 3
The sound of dripping water stirs my senses as I feel myself coming to. My body feels cold, a fact only intensified by an unpleasant draft almost making my teeth chatter. I struggle to open my eyes, my surroundings appearing dark and blurry. I try to move only to groan in pain when I feel my movements restricted. It’s only by the second attempt to move my arms and legs that I realise I’ve been fucking hogtied. My head is throbbing along with a growing pressure in my skull that is making me feel nauseous. I’m pretty certain I have a concussion. I try to think about how I came to be here, but it’s all a blur. As I lay on this cold, dirty – what feels like concrete – floor, I try to get my eyes to focus. Eventually, they seem to adjust, and I can now see Silas, unconscious and hogtied just a few yards away. That’s when the fog seems to lift from my brain, and I remember the men who broke into my apartment. I’ve definitely seen Silas look worse, but he doesn’t look great. His lip is bust
Codename: Aconite Chapter Forty-Six: Invasion Pt 2
I lower the mask from my face, breathing in – somewhat – fresh air as I lift my goggles onto my head. Carefully I pick up one of the capsules from the tray in front of me, holding it up, admiring it with the pride and joy a mother would have for their child. Over a year of failure after failure has led to this moment, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. One of the things I love about chemistry is that it teaches you how much good can come from failure. Failure isn’t the absence of success, but merely a stepping stone on the path to it. Through my many failed experiments I discovered so many new ways to mix and bind proteins that have now become useful with many of my other poisons. I learned even more about the plants I was working with on a molecular level, and while week after week things may not have gone my way, I never gave up and I’m glad I didn’t because if I had I wouldn’t be holding the future of science between my fingers now. I place the capsule down, remove my gloves and th
