Chapter Fifteen
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Henri
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GODDAMMIT, I HAVE GOT TO stop kissing her.
Every time I slipped, her taste burned deeper into my psyche. Every press of our lips, I slid farther on the slope of wanting something I couldn’t have.
Never again.
No more kisses.
No more whispers.
No more truths.
She’d promised me she wouldn’t fight.
That was enough.
With her in on the ruse, I could act like them, fuck like them, abuse like them, all while Ily trusted that every bruise I gave her was for the greater good.
The greater good?
Shit.
Why did that make me feel so seedy? So dirty?
She thinks you’re a cop.
I stood behind her with a book in my hands. A book I had no intention of reading, ready to play my part.
She’d promised to play with me.
And in return, I made her a silent vow.
I would never kiss her again.
No matter what I did to her.
No matter how many times I had to fuck her, hurt her, make her sob and beg and cry, I would never steal another kiss.
Never allow such intimacy to form.
Never let her think I was redeemable.
This was a business arrangement...nothing more.
A kiss was for lovers.
For hearts and souls and ever afters.
We were not lovers.
Fuck, I didn’t have the words for what we were.
Whatever we’d become, we were bound by a common goal, and as long as we stuck to those rules, then whatever I did to her would be exonerated and explainable.
I could hold my head up high when Q came blasting through the gates and pretend I hadn’t broken. I’d found a way to prove I deserved him and his family, all while playing a slippery game of truths and lies.
She thinks I’m a cop.
The repeating thought wriggled like a pestering worm.
She’s only on my side because she thinks I’m a cop.
That tiny white lie was the only one I’d told.
It wasn’t my fault she thought I was a better man than I could ever be. My intentions were still honourable, even if my method was...questionable.
I had her permission to bruise her.
Her consent to fuck her in order to play the role of saviour.
So what I’d just manipulated her by allowing her to think I was law enforcement?
So what she thought SWAT would pour over the battlement at any moment, bringing righteous rain-fire?
Just because I hadn’t corrected her didn’t mean our truce wasn’t justified. I still intended to save her and the other slaves. I didn’t need a badge or a uniform to do that. I had something better—a half-brother with untold wealth and cutthroat connections.
I hefted the heavy book in my palm.
Ily looked over her shoulder, her face as white as her honey skin would permit, her body hunched and scared. But she didn’t move. Didn’t crawl away.
Her genuine fear was the sweetest perfume.
But her obedience? That...frustrated me.
I hated that the blackest parts of me craved her breaking. It hungered to chase as she bolted. It salivated at the thought of overpowering her—of snatching her submission with claws and teeth rather than having it given to me just because we’d reached an understanding.
Goddammit, I’m not normal.
I had a naked woman on all fours. A woman knowing full well I meant to strike her with the book and consenting to it anyway. If it was a simple matter of getting off on domination, that would be more than enough.
So what the fuck did it say about me that I wanted her bleeding?
Chasing away those horrible thoughts, I closed the distance between us. Ily sucked in a breath as I dropped to my knees on the thick, patterned carpet behind her and planted a large hand on her lower back.
She flinched.
My cock reacted, feeding off her distress.
I wished I’d asked Q how he tamed his darkness.
How he earned a wife who didn’t hate him.
I needed to know.
Needed to learn how to cage this sickness...before it kills me.
With a roll of my shoulders, I pushed away the whispered secrets Ily and I had shared and embraced the role I had to sell. After my slip-up cradling her when she cried, I had to ensure Victor believed I’d snapped.
Squeezing the curvy flesh on her hipbone, I raised my voice just in case the cameras did have audio.
“Did you think you could bribe me? That I’d be interested in whatever you could offer me in exchange for your freedom?
” I laughed, ensuring I sounded borderline unhinged.
“Don’t you get it? I can take anything I want from you.
I can take everything. And I don’t have to give you a damn thing in return. ”
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t retaliate.
I wanted to praise her and rage at her.
Knowing she wouldn’t run stole all the enjoyment.
Goddammit, this was why I couldn’t enjoy sex. Why every single one of my encounters had been fraught with pretending I was into it, all while slipping into daydreams of what I truly needed to get off.
My mind shot back to that awful night when I’d been so fucking close to ending it. The urges in my blood had been too insistent, too savage. I’d tried to block them out. Tried to hurt myself instead of another.
I’d barely been aware I stabbed the knife into my upper thigh, corkscrewing the blade, hunting for my femoral artery, doing my best to feel anything other than the sick monstrosity inside me—
Stop.
Blinking away bad memories, I focused on Ily.
Our eyes locked.
Her sunshine-golden ones seemed far too bright and innocent for this place. A ray of light in a world of nightmares. That was her true calling. Her real identity. She wasn’t the sun shining upon my darkness but a nightmare dragging me deeper.
“Five strikes to start.” I raised my arm, fisting the book. “Five hard smacks to ensure you understand, once and for all, that there is no escape. Nod so I know you’re listening.”
She nodded.
My cock thickened.
“You’re mine now. Your every breath, every drop of blood, every bone, every thought and prayer and scream belong to me. Nod.”
She nodded.
I swallowed a groan. “Let’s see how pink we can get your ass in five swats, shall we? Ensure everyone out there knows you belong to me.”
I didn’t give her time to react.
With a grunt, I brought the leather-bound classic down and smacked her. I added as much violence as I could for the cameras, all while tempering my strength a second before the pages collided with her ass.
My mouth went dry as the resounding thwack echoed in the mote-dancing library. Instantly, her ass bloomed an incriminating red.
And just like that, I went disgustingly hard.
Real. Fake. Didn’t matter. The savagery of hitting a vulnerable woman. A woman I’d just sworn to protect through brutality unravelled me.
Ily didn’t make a sound.
Her silence made everything a thousand times worse.
Keeping one hand on her hip, I brought the book up again.
Our eyes locked.
She shut down.
And I choked on a groan as I struck her a second time. My entire body jolted. I ran my thumb over her hipbone, tracing the colours I’d delivered on her skin, stroking her with the tiniest bit of kindness.
“Scream for me,” I growled, raising the book again.
Ily was my reckoning and condemnation all in one as I wrenched my arm down, adding as much force as I could for those watching us, narrowly preventing my full strength from hurting her.
This time, she cried out.
Not quite a scream. Not quite a yelp.
A heady, hurting grunt that set my heart on fire.
My entire body turned into a pyre. My stomach knotted. My cock throbbed. I did my best to ignore the feelings she conjured in me and threw myself into the pantomime.
“Again.” I struck her a fourth time. The singing slap was the sweetest, foulest music.
Tears wobbled in her gaze as she let go of whatever shore she clung to. Pure sorrow spilled from her lips, but her cheeks remained dry from droplets.
I couldn’t look away.
If she cried, I’d be finished.
Hung, drawn, and quartered right there in the library.
Her throat worked as she swallowed down her grief.
I reached the end of my tether.
“Five,” I whispered, bringing the first edition of The Count of Monte Cristo slicing through the air and hitting her red-blooming ass.
Something changed in her.
A ripple of horror ran down her spine.
A scream spilled right from her soul.
She didn’t hold back as she filled the library with every hate, misery, and fear. I’d never heard a wail like it. Never had someone’s voice affect me on a visceral, primal level.
That scream was her signature on this sick contract between us. Signing her very life over to me, trusting a sadistic stranger, giving me the right to do whatever I damn well wanted.
It undid me.
It consumed me.
Her body stiffened, almost as if agreeing to play with me had been empty words, but now...now that I’d abused her, and she’d experienced first-hand what we would have to do, she rebelled against every future strike, whip, and punishment.
The worst kind of aphrodisiac.
The best kind of turn-on.
Q...hurry the fuck up.
Footsteps echoed in the stone corridor.
Ily froze.
It was now or never.
Take her or watch another monster rape her.
Bending over her, I whispered in her ear. “You know what I have to do.”
She jerked and shivered but ever so slowly...she nodded.
“I’ll be as quick as I can. Just...trust me and play along.”
Pulling away, I reared up behind her and fumbled with my zipper.
Who would’ve thought I’d be this steadfast in my convictions. This morality that seemed to grow stronger instead of weaker. Faced with a choice to become the beast inside me, I found the human parts clinging for dear life to integrity.
My balls tightened, trying to crawl inside my body at the thought of fucking her while she was bound. Not by ropes or chains but by fragile promises to keep her alive.
If I was honest...our partnership made me nauseous, not horny. I couldn’t unscramble if I hated that I still tried to be good or cursed that I would always be bad.
Christ, I’m sorry...