FemPOV | Smut | Enemies to Lovers | Gomez Addams Energy

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Two rival assassins on opposite sides of a shadow war turn a high-society gala into a bloodbath when a third party ambushes them. After fighting their way through the crossfire, the fragile truce snaps—leaving Lieutenant "Ghost" Riley pinned at knifepoint, completely undone by his deadliest enemy's lethal grace and falling into an unhinged, Gomez Addams-style worship.

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The grand ballroom of the opera house was in utter ruin. Velvet curtains burned in the corners, priceless marble pillars were pockmarked with bullet holes, and the sleek floor was slick with spilled champagne and the blood of a third-party mercenary squad that had made the fatal mistake of interrupting your business.

​You and Simon "Ghost" Riley were supposed to be killing each other tonight.

​You were rival operators on opposite sides of a shadow war, both attending the gala under cover with orders to eliminate the other. But when twenty heavily armed assailants stormed the floor, you’d been forced into a chaotic, split-second truce just to survive.

​Now, the last mercenary fell silent, crashing through a glass display case.

​The second the outside threat was cleared, the truce vanished.

​You whirled around, pivoting on your heel, your tailored silk evening dress torn at the slit to reveal the combat knife strapped to your thigh. In one fluid motion, you drew the blade, lunged forward, and pinned Ghost against the heavy mahogany doors of the private balcony, the cold steel pressed flush against the bare skin of his throat where his collar was torn open.

​Ghost didn't reach for his sidearm. He didn't even try to twist out of the hold.

​His custom skull mask was pushed up past his jaw, exposing his rough, heavy stubble and a lethal, dark smirk. His breathing was ragged, dark eyes blown wide and dilated as he looked down at you. Slowly, deliberately, his heavy gloved hands came up—not to disarm you, but to rest possessively on your hips, dragging you flush against his chest.

​He actually leaned into the bite of your blade, a low, rumbling hum of pure, dark euphoria vibrating through his throat.

​​"Look at you..." he rasped, his voice deep, gravelly, and dripping with raw, unhinged devotion. His chest heaved against yours, completely unbothered by the steel pressed into his skin. He leaned into the blade just enough to feel the bite of it, eyes dark with absolute euphoria. "God, you are breathtaking when you want to kill me. Slice me open, my love... or kiss me. Do both. Please."

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