Dual (Carnal Games #4)

Chapter 1

ONE

DOMHNALL

The club is empty, and the echo of my footsteps feels unnaturally quiet without the usual cacophony of laughter and moans. There's only the steady tick of the clock on the far wall and low, amber lighting that casts faint shadows, softening the edges of the space.

I see her before she notices me, standing on the stage with one hand resting lightly on the velvet curtain. Her head is tilted, and her profile is softened by the amber glow of the after-hours sconce lighting.

"Anna," I call, my voice breaking the silence. "What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the night at my sister's?"

She turns at the sound of my voice, her movements slow, deliberate. When she faces me, her lips curve into a small, hesitant smile. "I needed to see you," she says softly, almost shyly. "I… I wanted to talk. In the place where we first met. Well, met for real."

I pause, studying her. There's something different about her tonight, though I can't quite put my finger on it.

"Couldn't it wait 'til morning?" I keep my tone gentle.

She's moved in with me and we've been happy, but life hasn't been without its bumps in the road.

She still has nightmares and always wants to make love afterward.

We do, but sometimes, I can't tell if it's Mads or Anna I'm with.

In the morning, Anna says never to ask—that deep down, it's always her, no matter which alter I'm with.

But then last week, Anna found her dresses had been shredded with scissors, even though she doesn't remember doing it.

Her therapist thinks Mads is acting out at night.

I set up cameras around the house after that to see what her alter might be getting up to while we're both asleep, but there's been nothing since, just my fiancé sleeping beside me in bed.

We always knew her coming back from Chicago and living with me might stir things up.

Anna shakes her head, a small motion, almost nervous. "No," she says, stepping closer. "It couldn't wait."

I frown slightly, taking her in as she moves into the light and walks down the few stairs from the stage to the main floor. Her shoulders are rounded, as if she's carrying some invisible weight. There's a vulnerability in the way she looks at me, her arms crossed lightly, holding herself.

"I'm here now. What is it?"

Her breath catches as if she's searching for the right words. "I just…" she begins, her voice trembling slightly. She looks away for a moment. When she looks back at me, her eyes are glistening. "I didn't think it would be like this. I don't want to share you."

The words land softly, but they're still like a knife through my chest.

I stride closer. I worried that having sex with Mads might be upsetting to her, even though she swears up and down she doesn't mind and that it's actually helping her integrate. "Share me? You know you don't have to share me. I only love you. All of you. It's only ever been you."

She takes another step closer, her movements unsteady, like she's unsure of herself. "But you spend so much time with her," she murmurs, her voice almost breaking.

Does she mean at night? Is there something she hasn't been telling me?

Her fingers twitch at her sides before she reaches out, brushing them lightly against my jaw. The touch is fleeting, tentative. "She understands you… in ways I don't. And I can't stop thinking about it."

There's a softness in her tone that makes me hesitate, but something still feels… off. Her words, her gestures—they're just a little too precise, like an actor in a well-rehearsed role. I watch her closely and stiffen as I try to read what's beneath the surface.

"Anna," I say slowly, careful not to startle her. "Please, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

She takes a shaky breath, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something darker behind her eyes.

She steps closer again, her fingers trailing to cup my cheek, the touch firmer now.

"You're mine," she whispers, her voice dipping, the softness replaced by something sharper, more insistent. "Aren't you, Domhnall?"

Her words hang in the air between us, thick with implications I can't ignore. Her fingers linger against my cheek, the warmth of her touch belying the sharpness in her eyes.

"You're mine, aren't you?" she repeats, her voice softer this time. Coaxing, but with an edge that cuts deeper.

I don't move. I don't even breathe for a moment, studying her as her thumb brushes against my jaw. This close, the cracks in her facade are harder to miss. The subtle lift of her chin. The challenge hidden in her eyes.

This isn't Anna. Not entirely.

"Mads," I murmur, watching for her reaction.

For an instant, her expression freezes, the smallest flicker of something caught between surprise and frustration. Then her lips curve, the smile softer now, but there's no mistaking the glint of satisfaction in her gaze.

"Mads?" she echoes, tilting her head, her thumb pausing mid-stroke. "Why would you call me that?"

I reach up, wrapping my fingers gently around her wrist to stop her touch. "Because Anna doesn't look at me like that." My voice is low. "And she doesn't play games like this."

Her lips part as if she's about to deny it, but then she laughs—a quiet, throaty sound that sends a shiver down my spine. "You always were too clever for your own good." The softness slips from her tone like a discarded mask. "And I thought you liked games."

I should pull back. Distance myself. But her proximity has a gravity all its own, one I can't seem to resist. Her pulse beats fast against my fingers, and I wonder if it's fear or excitement or, if with her, there's ever any difference.

"What are you doing, Mads?" I keep my voice steady even as my heart begins to race.

She leans closer, her breath warm against my skin. "Taking what I want," she murmurs. "Isn't that what you always liked about me?"

My grip on her wrist tightens just slightly, enough to remind her who she's dealing with. "Anna only wants harmony with you. Why can't you accept that and work with her instead of against her?"

"Maybe I don't want harmony."

"Then what is it you do want?"

Her smile widens, sly and wicked, but there's something desperate in her eyes now, too. She's pushing, testing, waiting for me to respond.

"You," she whispers, the word a confession and a challenge all at once.

"I want you, Domhnall. Not her. Me. I was always the one who wanted you.

I was the one who brought us back here. I was the one who fought battles of wits with our father and won.

Me. But now I'm forced into the shadows while she gets to live with you in the light? It's bullshit!"

The air between us feels electric, every nerve in my body attuned to her. But this is Mads—chaos wrapped in allure, always walking the line between vulnerability and manipulation.

I lean in, my voice dropping to a near growl. "And why should I give you what you want?"

She doesn't flinch, meeting my gaze with a steady intensity that borders on defiance. "Because I'm the one who understands you," she says, her voice firm now, any pretense of shyness gone. "The real you. Not the version you show the tender little lamb."

She reaches down and grabs my balls in a rough grip that has my cock immediately stiffening.

Her words cut deep, too close to truths I'm not ready to face. But instead of pulling away, I find myself leaning closer, the tension between us a tether I can't seem to break.

"You wouldn't have to pretend with me," she says softly, her voice so low it's almost a whisper.

She never breaks eye contact as she squeezes my balls harder, a bold move Anna would never dare.

"I'll wear your leash 24/7 and let you own me completely in ways she can't even begin to understand. But I do."

She releases her grip on my balls, and her hands slide up to my chest, eyes searching mine.

I could argue. I could push her away, call her bluff, and strip her of this power she's trying to wield over me.

"You think you know me?" My voice comes out sharper than I intend. "You think this…" I gesture between us with my free hand, "…means anything?"

Her lips curve into a small, almost wistful smile, as if she sees right through the armor I've thrown up. "I know the parts you don't show anyone else," she murmurs, her fingers curling into my shirt. "The darkness you hide. The hunger you bury."

I don't move, caught in the storm of her and the gravity of her words. I love the fiancé I live with every day. The one I picked out curtains with earlier before she left for movie night at Moira's. I love the light she's brought into my life.

But Mads's words still send a pulse of heat through me, sharp and undeniable. She's always known how to find the cracks in my walls, slipping through before I can reinforce them.

"And you think you're the one to satisfy it?" I counter, my voice low and dangerous.

She doesn't flinch. If anything, her smile grows bolder, her gaze darkening with something that feels like victory. "I know I am."

Her hand slides upward, her fingers grazing the side of my neck, and I feel her pulse against my own, wild and unsteady. I tighten my grip on her wrist, but it's not to pull her away—it's to keep her close, because she's right.

She always has been.

"Mads…" I start, my voice trailing off because I'm not sure what I mean to say. A warning? A question? Maybe both.

If I give in to her tonight, am I… am I cheating on my fiancé?

"Don't," she whispers, leaning in until her lips are a breath away from mine. "Don't ruin this with your conscience. Not tonight."

The room feels smaller, the air thick and charged.

There's no rulebook for this. Anna tells me she wants every bit of intimacy, whether she's presenting as Anna or Mads. I have permission. But I'm not sure Anna knows what she's giving permission to. Does she know Mads is here tonight, trying to seduce me away from her?

Mads's breath brushes my skin, and every instinct I have screams at me to take control. To show her that I'm still the one holding the power here.

Because she's right—she knows the parts of me I don't show anyone else. Not even Anna. And as much as I want to pretend I'm a changed man… the monster inside me growls at her nearness as she leans in even closer.

"Say you want me," she murmurs, her lips brushing the corner of my mouth as if by accident. "Just once."

I close my eyes for a beat, every muscle in my body coiled tight. She's pushing me to the edge, and I don't know if I'll fall or if I'll take her with me when I do.

And what about Anna? Dear god, I've fought so hard to make things right with her. Can I give in to this tonight and still be able to look her in the eyes in the morning?

"Mads," I say again, my voice rough. Her name is a warning and a plea all at once.

Her hand moves to my jaw, her fingers threading into my hair as she presses closer. "Say it, Domhnall," she whispers, her lips ghosting over mine. "You want me. You've always wanted me. I need to hear it."

And maybe it's the way her voice cracks, just slightly, on the word "need." Or maybe it's the way she's looking at me—bold and vulnerable all at once. But for the first time in a long time, I let myself stop pretending.

"I want you," I say, the words like a confession dragged from the deepest part of me. "You know I do."

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, I see the mask slip entirely. Her eyes soften, her lips parting as if she's about to say something, but instead, she closes the space between us, her mouth crashing into mine.

It's not gentle. It's not sweet. It's raw and consuming, a collision of desperation and hunger that leaves no room for anything else.

The only thing that stops the kiss is her pulling away and dropping down to her knees in front of me, hands sliding down my body as she does.

Her eyes stay on me the entire time until, at the very last moment, she bows her head. "How do you want me, Sir?"