Wicked Stalker (Captives of the Onyx Brotherhood #1)

Thirteen

Eve

I scream and slam the door, the image of him seared into my retinas. If anything, he’s even more imposing than he was all those months ago at the magic show. His black T-shirt, decorated with some obscure band logo, stretches over shoulders that are more muscular than I remember, and those twisting black tattoos accentuate strong, corded forearms.

His eyes, in the brief moment before I slammed the door, held a look of dark mischief. Amusement and anticipation. What is he looking forward to so much? My stomach turns over, but something else pulses alongside the fear, an understanding that grips my core and weakens my legs.

I’m naked and trapped here. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

The door doesn’t have a lock. If he pushes it open, there’s no way I’ll be able to stop him. I stare around the room. Nothing. Nowhere to hide. If I could just cover myself, I’d be able to have a conversation with the man. But like this, all I can think of is hiding myself away.

His voice comes through the door. “Eve? Please come out so we can talk. Don’t make me come in there after you. ”

Something in his voice, a trace of strained excitement underneath his cool, rich tone, makes me think he’d enjoy that. Maybe it’s even what he’s hoping for.

I lick my dry lips and force words out, though they almost catch in my throat. “Where am I? What do you want?”

“Come out here, and I’ll explain everything.”

I try to sound strong and confident, but the words come out far meeker than I want. “I need something to wear. Pass me something to cover myself, please, and I’ll come out so we can talk.”

I’m proud of myself for managing that much through the pounding of my heart and the beating drum of blood in my head. All my nerves are on full alert, tense and ready.

There’s a long pause before Gabriel speaks again. “No. This is lesson one. Clothing has to be earned through good behavior. You’ve only just arrived, and you’ve already disobeyed one instruction. Come out. Now.”

His words clang through me, ringing gongs confirming my darkest fears.

Lesson.

Disobey.

Good behavior.

Words of control and power. This isn’t a sweet, romantic adventure. It’s something darker, and I have no idea what to do. Obey him and see what happens? Refuse and learn what he does when he gets angry?

“Five seconds. Four. Three–”

There’s no mistaking the excitement this time. It boils through the closed door and rolls over my heightened senses with the force of a tsunami.

“Two— ”

Self-preservation overcomes my modesty, and I open the door. I stand awkwardly, one hand wrapped over my breasts and the other shielding between my legs as best I can. He still sits on the bed, leaning back on his hands, tattooed fingers splayed on the cover. His easy posture, and the fact that he’s sitting there fully clothed, only serves to highlight my own predicament.

His lips part, all amusement dropping away as he rakes his gaze over my body. The air grows hot, charged with the scalding force of his scrutiny. I whimper, twisting my body away and hunching over, desperate to cover myself.

Shame. It’s a slithering serpent, creeping over every part of me. My mind clouds over as the shame spreads there, too, stealing all other thoughts away. He’s looking at me. It’s wrong. I’m dirty. A dirty, sinful girl who needs to—

“Eve. Look at me. Right now.”

His voice is a lifeline. I catch it, latch on to it, and cling there, blocking out my mother’s angry voice. Still hunched, still shielded, I turn my face toward Gabriel, degree by degree.

He doesn’t hurry me. By the time my eyes meet his, my shoulders ache from holding myself so tightly wrapped up. His eyes are dark pools, and even I can’t mistake the raw desire there. But there’s a crease in his forehead, too, and he speaks with calm, gentle authority.

“Stand up straight, Eve. Hands by your sides. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and you’re mine now. I won’t let you hide.”

His words bring forth a sharp, pained little laugh. He doesn’t get it. How could he? What he’s asking is impossible. Even if I really was beautiful, it wouldn’t matter. Exposure is shame and fear and pain. My arms are stuck to my body. They might as well be nailed there .

I can’t express that to him, though. Not to this man, this stranger who stripped me, stealing my armor. My safety. All I can do is shake my head. “I can’t.”

He watches me for a long, tense moment, frown deepening. Then he nods. “I’ll help you. Close your eyes.”

I draw in a sharp breath. “No, I—”

“Eve. Don’t push me.” The sharp authority in his tone is a jolt of electricity right to my heart. Part of me rears up at it, angry. Who does he think he is to give me orders? But another part of me clings to it. Something buried deep under the toxic sludge of shame wants to obey. Anything has to be better than standing here like this, twisted up inside and out.

I close my eyes.

“There’s my good girl. Keep them closed until I tell you otherwise. I’m going to touch you. Don’t panic.”

Easier said than done. Tears force my eyelids to flutter before I screw them shut once more. Touching is even worse than exposing myself. I might as well become a whore, just like my mother always said I—

Gabriel’s hand lands over mine, the one clutched tightly across my breasts. I yelp and flinch back, but he’s ready for it, and his hand across my back holds me in place.

“Eve.” Authority crackles through his words and deep into my bones. “Stop that. Breathe. I know it’s hard for you to obey, so I’m going to make it much easier. Breathe, relax, and let me help.”

This close, every breath brings me the scent of his cologne and his own clean, musky scent. The same scent I breathed in night after night, when bad dreams chased me and I buried my head in his jacket. It’s a balm to my nerves, a dip in a cool, calm ocean after a long day .

My screeching shame recedes, and I manage to relax enough for him to pull my hand away from my breasts.

“Good. That’s so good. Now the other. Keep breathing.”

I do, but it’s so much harder. Exposing that area, that sinful area I barely even touch myself. Sirens blare in my head, promises of burning and eternal damnation, even though I know none of it is true. The deepest marrow of my bones still carries the entrenched fear. Logic is a weak paper sword against that.

I stiffen as his fingers close around my wrist and pull my hand away with gentle but unstoppable force. I’m a mannequin, frozen and poseable. He guides my hands behind my back, and before I guess what is about to happen, a click sounds and hard bracelets lock onto both wrists, trapping them there.

He’s cuffed my hands behind my back.

My eyes fly open as I tug against the restraints. All the almost peace of moments before evaporates as molten panic pours in. I’m even more helpless than before. Exposed with no possible way to stop it. Looking down, I stifle a sob at the way my breasts jut out obscenely toward Gabriel, who has moved to stand in front of me.

He smiles, pleased with his little trick. “I’ve taken away your choice. You couldn’t obey, so I made certain you would. That’s how it’s going to be. If a rule is too hard for you to follow, I’ll enforce it. This might feel scary, but it’ll make things easier.”

There’s a note to his voice that’s hard to define. The words don’t ring quite true. They have the cadence of a learned speech, something he’s practiced. He runs his hand through the messy tangle of his hair, and I catch it. A moment of nerves. A crack in the hard, practiced shell he’s presenting.

He steps back, face smooth, as if I’d imagined what I saw. He studies me, and my hands twitch, but I can’t cover myself. I can’ t do anything, and little by little, as he keeps his gaze locked on my body, I find myself relaxing. Just a touch.

The twitching of my hands against the bonds subsides as even the deep-rooted parts of me accept it isn’t working. He’s looking at me, and I haven’t exploded into a column of smoke. A fireball hasn’t streaked down from heaven to smite me. Gradually, my breathing slows to a normal rate.

When I force myself to meet his gaze, there’s a satisfied smile on his lips. He wipes it away, resetting his face to stern.

“There. That’s better. We’ll keep them on for two hours, then see how we go. If you try to cover yourself or hide from me again, it’s four hours next time. Then six. Soon, you’ll be so used to being naked in front of me it won’t even register. You’ll complain when I make you put clothes on.”

Said as if he has total authority over me. The power to make even the most basic decisions. I’ve been so focused on my lack of clothes that it’s steered me away from working out just what the heck is actually going on here. No more. I need to know.

I try to ignore everything else and focus on what really matters. “What’s happening here? Where am I?”

A long pause falls between us before he finally answers, gesturing to the bed. “Sit down. You’re in my home, and you’re safe. I’m not going to harm you, and neither is anyone else. I promise you that on my mother’s life.”

A foreboding shiver crawls over my skin at the shadowed look in his eye and the hard set to his jaw. He likes having me here—that much is obvious—but he’s also not relishing the conversation we’re about to have.

Billie’s silly fantasies of him whisking me away to a life of ease and luxury suddenly seem unbelievably childish. There’s danger here. Whether it comes from him, or from somewhere else, remains to be seen .

I take a seat on the edge of the bed, legs pressed primly together. He spares them a glance and a brief frown but doesn’t say anything. I imagine at some point, in the not-too-distant future, he’ll force me to spread my knees wide for him. Something hot and unfamiliar lodges in my stomach at the image.

He sits next to me, the bed dipping under his weight, and his knee presses against mine. I jerk it away, another reflex, but put it back when it earns me a dark look from him. My shoulders are already uncomfortable from the restraints. I don’t want to keep them on any longer than I have to.

His throat bobs with a swallow, and he blows out a long breath before he begins. “You’re still in California, in a secluded institute known as the Compound. It’s a scary name, but it’s not some cartel hideout. It’s home to a centuries-old organization known as the Brotherhood.”

So far, so terrifying. Everything about this screams “cult.” Are they into human sacrifice? Cannibalism? My breaths turn shaky, and Gabriel’s hand lands on my knee. It lies there, heavy and solid, as he says, “Don’t panic.”

Again, easier said than done.

“We’re not criminals, and we have no religion. We’re men of science, and we work together for the betterment of humanity.” His voice changes, excitement and animation seeping in. “You’ll love the equipment here. The possibilities. Once you’re trained and marked, I can show you my lab. It’s incredible. And we have some of the world’s top biochemists. You could—”

He breaks off, mouth snapping shut.

Marked.

That one word eclipses all others.

The anger I probably should have been feeling all along finally bubbles up, making its way past everything else. “What do you mean, marked? ”

His brow twitches at my sharp tone, and he reverts right back to stern, lecture mode. “I’ll get to it. Don’t interrupt again.”

“I didn’t!”

“Be quiet!” His hand taps down on my knee once, punctuating the word. I go still, defenses slamming into place. He could hurt me. He’s a man. I'm restrained and helpless. He could hurt me, and by the sounds of it, no one in whatever this Compound is would give a crap.

He closes his eyes, mutters, “Jesus fucking Christ,” and stares at the ceiling. When he looks at me again, it’s with a more open expression, creases of worry around his eyes.

“I haven’t done this before. It’s not going well, is it?”

For the first time, he sounds like a real person. He rubs my knee, soothing the spot where he just slapped me, and something about the motion sends electric tingles down into my core. I try to fight the feeling. All it ever leads to is frustration.

I try to match his conversational tone. “Not especially.”

A sad smile lights up his face, then slides away as he continues. “The truth is I’ve done something incredibly selfish. All Brothers must choose a Ward. That’s you.”

His hand moves, coming up to cup the side of my face in the tenderest way I’ve ever felt. He holds me like I’m made of the finest bone china and about to shatter.

“A Ward?” It’s all I can manage as creeping vines coil around my heart.

“Yes. You’re mine, and you will be forever. I own you. Do you understand what I’m saying? I own you. You can have a good life here at the Compound with me. I’ll always take care of you.”

The words land, weights wrapping my limbs and dragging me to the bottom of the ocean. With a single pained look up at the ceiling, Gabriel delivers the death blow. “Your old life is gone. You’ll never leave the Compound again.”