Rain hammered the windows of the Hell estate. Vixen stood before the mirror, fastening a black collar around her throat. Not a necklace. A statement. Behind her, Viper leaned against the bedroom door. "You enjoy frightening people." She smiled at his reflection. "I enjoy giving them reasons to be frightened." Viper approached. His gloved fingers brushed the collar. "You've been wearing that a lot lately." "You noticed?" "I notice everything about you." Her smile softened. That was the strange thing about Viper. The world knew him as ruthless. Vixen knew the man beneath the reputation. The man who remembered how she took her coffee. The man who slept with one hand resting against her back. The man who could stare down an entire room without blinking—and still become absurdly gentle when she was hurt. She turned toward him. "Tonight isn't about business." "No?" "No." She stepped closer. "It's about reminding our enemies who they married into." Viper laughed quietly. "That's my girl." Vixen raised an eyebrow. "Careful." "Why?" "You know I hate being predictable." He kissed her forehead. "That's why I married you."

The Queen Of Hell