6. Zaiah
Chapter six
Zaiah
A part of me knows I should get as far away from Devyn Shio as soon as possible, but a sinister, wicked part of me yearns for more. More of him, and more of whatever the hell this dance is between us.
My body moves against my will, taunting and teasing Devyn as I grind against his hard length. I’m absolutely floored—and oddly touched—that he knew I designed this shirt. Remy never cared to notice, but Devyn did. After our earlier encounter, it’s undeniably obvious that Devyn is my stalker, but just how well does this Black Hart know me?
Could he possibly be aware of my knowledge concerning his father’s criminal activities? I had a feeling Remy would eventually connect the dots. He has cameras set up all around his house. Though it’s been a few weeks since I left Remy, perhaps he’s finally seen the feed from the night before I left.
Remy would have seen me listening in on his call, going through his things, and taking photos. Did he report his findings to Devyn, and that’s how they met?
Devyn’s grip on my throat loosens a fraction, and I already miss the extra pressure. It kept me grounded. If he lets go now, I might fall apart.
Light, what the hell is wrong with me?
I circle my fingers around his, marveling at how much bigger his hands are compared to mine. And then I squeeze, silently begging him to not stop. To hold me to him. To stake a claim.
He embraces me tightly and softly hums in my hair before giving me that added pressure my body craves. This is so fucking wrong, and yet, I don’t ever want him to stop. I must be touch starved or something because this addiction I have for Devyn Shio isn’t right. Devyn is like the sun; beautiful and blinding, but too much exposure will leave you burned.
“Tell me, Doll. Did you design this shirt?” He sounds amused.
“Yeah,” I pause. “How did you know?”
Devyn keeps his grip on my throat but steps back enough so our bodies are no longer pressed together. With his free hand, he trails his tantalizing fingers down my stomach before dipping lower. His fingers dip into my waistband and hook on my underwear.
When his fingers don’t stop, my head begins to spin. “What the fuck are you doing?” This asshole thinks he can just ignore me and do whatever he pleases? That’s when I remember who he is.
What he is.
A Black Hart. And tonight is Praeda.
Devyn can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants, and no one here will stop him. But I’m not his prey. His chosen Praeda is supposed to be Remy. Not me. Never me. Being chosen by a Black Hart is supposed to be an honor, no matter how depraved their claiming might be.
Devyn’s hand drops from around my throat. His fingers dig into my hip in a punishing grip, holding me steady. My legs are shaking now, but I can’t quite tell if they’re shaking in fear, panic, or lust. Fuck. Maybe it’s a little bit of all three. And how messed up is that?
His hand dives between my crease, and suddenly his index finger circles my puckered hole. My pants remain buttoned, and the material cuts into my stomach. I’m trapped. A caged animal on a leash, unable to get away.
My chest tightens. There’s no way in hell he’d actually finger me right here in front of everyone, right? When a little extra pressure is added to my hole, I jerk away, pushing forward and out of his grasp.
Devyn snarls, one hand still down my pants and the other catching my waistband and yanking me back to him like a sick game of yo-yo.
The dance floor is a whirl of people and lights, but then, as if rehearsed, I’m back in his embrace.
I stomp on his foot and twist around. Considering he’s wearing thick boots like I am, I doubt that stupid move even did anything to him. Facing him now, my eyes flick up to his crimson gaze. A dangerous, lust-filled fire burns within his eyes.
He must see something on my face because he leans in, nostrils flaring. “There’re certain things I like, sweet fire. Dark things . And the way you struggle? It does things to me. It ignites a passion in my soul. Fight me all you want, but don’t misunderstand. By the end of the night, you’ll be mine.”
His words echo in my head, pinging around until I’m nothing but confused and flushed. Devyn’s hand slides behind my blazer and under my shirt. It travels higher until his fingertips trace a pattern of scars I always keep hidden. Devyn stills. Embarrassed, I spin back around in his hold so that I’m no longer facing him. Pausing, Devyn takes this as an invitation, pressing his body against mine from behind, and closing the distance between us.
Terror causes my entire body to freeze.
Standing in front of me, only about fifteen feet away, is Remy. The anger pouring off him seems to fill the space between us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Devyn glance up. His fingers flex against my hip when he sees who I’m looking at.
***
I take a step back, accidentally pressing my body firmly against Devyn. He wraps a muscular arm around me, like a thick bar holding me in place. Trapped between a monster and a demon, I make a decision and lean against the Black Hart behind me.
“Ah,” Devyn murmurs into my ear. “There he is. Should we show the prick he can’t take what’s mine?”
What’s his? “Wh—what are you talking about?”
Suddenly, Devyn is grasping my chin and twisting my face toward him. The angle is almost painful. Our lips meet in a desperate frenzy, and before I can catch my breath or even understand that Devyn is claiming me in front of my ex, he’s leaning over me, shoving his tongue so far down my throat that I can hardly breathe. He continues to kiss me sloppily, and for some reason, I’m here for it.
All my senses are hyper-focused on Devyn Shio. His touch, the way he tastes, and that intoxicating scent of cinnamon and cloves.
I’m so distracted that it hardly registers that his fingers are getting wet from all the saliva between us. That is until his fingers let go of my face and trail down my body and between my crack. My muscles tighten with arousal and anticipation. His finger finds my hole easily before he’s thrusting it inside of me.
The stretch burns and feels good at the same time. He barely gives me time to adjust before he’s thrusting in and out, opening me up right here on the dance floor.
Blood rushes to my cock until I’m panting and needy.
Arousal and humiliation thrum through me like a wildfire scorching me with heat. This fucking Black Hart is fingering me on the dance floor. I should be pissed. Really fucking pissed at the way he treats me like his little plaything. It should remind me of the way my ex used me, but it doesn’t. Instead, he makes me feel alive.
Tiny whimpers and gasps are falling from my lips.
“Look up, Doll. See how badly your ex wants you? I’ll bet you anything he’s hard right now, missing the sweet heat of this tight hole.”
I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure he wants you, Hart.”
He laughs. “Doesn’t matter what that asshole wants. I’m yours… and you’re mine.”
Those words make my heart race, even though I know he doesn’t mean them.
Remy’s closer now, just watching, his eyes blazing with anger. I know it’s foolish, but somehow staring at my abusive ex, while another man fills me with pleasure, knowing he’ll never be able to touch me ever again, is the single most powerful feeling I’ve ever felt.
There’s something frightening and intoxicating about gaining the attention of a Black Hart. No. Not just any Black Hart, but the one my piece-of-shit ex is obsessed with. The same man I’ve been obsessed with. My tempting demon.
Ripping my gaze away from Remy, I reach behind me and grip Devyn’s chin in a punishing grip. Then I bring his mouth down to mine and clash our lips together. I’m claiming Devyn just as much as he’s claiming me.
***
“Remy’s gone. You two can stop.” A throat clears and I tear my lips away from Devyn’s. Slowly, he pulls his finger out of me, leaving me empty and breathless. I’m so horny, I could cry.
Fucking hell, I really hope she didn’t see what Devyn was doing to me. I readjust myself in my pants, unable to hide my state of arousal. While some people glance our way, most partygoers are engrossed in dancing and laughter, but Remy is nowhere in sight.
With an angry expression on her pretty face, Lana stands in front of us, tapping her foot.
Devyn gives Lana a once-over before chuckling softly. “I’ll go get the two of us a drink, Doll. Would you like one, Lana?”
Lana’s mouth drops open. “You know my name?”
I yank her to me, half wondering if she has some kind of death wish. She should have never interrupted a Black Hart. Not one who looked so murderous only moments before.
“I know Zaiah,” he replies, his eyes dark and possessive as they sweep up my body.
My whole body tingles, flushing with embarrassment. And then he’s gone, weaving his way through the crowd. It’s only then do I realize he didn’t ask what drink I wanted.
“What the hell was all that?” Lana waves a hand at Devyn’s retreating form.
“I’m not sure.” I tug her to the edge of the dance floor, where the music isn’t as loud.
“Are you his Praeda?”
I shake my head, about to deny it, but I’m not entirely sure I have any words. Am I?
A bark of laughter has me spinning around.
Remy is standing there with a cruel smile on his face. “Zaiah? Someone’s Praeda? What a fucking joke.” He steps closer to us. Lana tenses before maneuvering herself between my ex and me. Light, I love her. But I also noticed she didn’t act this way with Devyn. Interesting.
Lana reaches back and slips her tiny hand in mine, squeezing it, and giving me silent support.
“You’re nobody, Zaiah. You don’t have money, you don’t have any family, and your bloodline is common. Nothing about you is interesting,” Remy continues. “You might be the pathetic little toy he throws away, but the night is still young. I’m meant to be his Praeda. It’s all been negotiated beforehand.”
The darkness in his tone causes me to flinch. I’ve worked so hard these past two months to detox myself from all the self-hatred and shame this man has beaten into me. I’ve prided myself on healing quickly. And I’ve made a vow to never let a man make me feel less than ever again.
Then here comes Remy with a few careless jabs and calculated words, and suddenly, I’m afraid I’ll crumble into the shell I used to be.
Negotiated beforehand?
Coldness slithers down my spine. Is this some sick joke the two of them planned together? I heard the rumors from others, but now, with Remy here in front of me saying he’s Devyn’s chosen one, I’m left wondering exactly what my role is in their stupid game.
No. Fuck that. I don’t give a shit what Remy thinks. His games won’t affect me anymore. I’m strong and I won’t cower in front of this man. If I need to steel myself and lick my wounds in private, I will, but Remy Lombardi will not see me submit to him ever again. True submission requires trust.
I squeeze Lana’s hand back and step in front of her before looking my ex in the eye. “That’s funny. All night I’ve heard people talking about you and Devyn. That Devyn chose you. Yet, I don’t see him talking to or acknowledging you. I don’t see your daddy here negotiating on your behalf.”
His fists clench and unclench by his sides. He wants to hit me, but he can’t with the people around us. A small crowd starts to form, watching us. My body shakes with adrenaline and anger. I hate this man in front of me. All those nights he hurt me.
I deserve better.
Suddenly Devyn is standing there, right behind Remy, anger rolling off him in waves. My lips part.
His anger is like a tempting poison heating my veins. I want him. Fucking hell. I want him so badly.
Remy follows my gaze looking behind him. He straightens his shoulders and smiles.
Devyn’s nostrils flare and then, like a mask falling into place, Devyn visibly calms himself before glancing at me. All that controlled anger now hidden by a mask of indifference.
Ignoring Remy, he walks past my ex in a deliberate move, brushing against him in a silent warning before making it to my side. As soon as he’s in front of me, Devyn passes me a vibrant blue drink.
“Hello, Praeda,” he purrs, a wicked smirk curling on his lips.
Oh, fuck.