16. Zara
ZARA
In the control room, I watch the cameras, entranced, as he chases the three men, as skillful and deadly as a predator. I can’t peel my eyes away, even when I witness the brutality he’s capable of.
He murders them one after another with such ease that it’s astonishing.
It draws me to him rather than repels me. If I think about it, every word he said to me carried weight, carried meaning.
He takes his time, enjoying the hunt while I enjoy him.
Yes, he would absolutely kill without remorse. He’s an expert killer in custom-made suits.
When he pursues the third man, I know this kill will be different, and I wait with bated breath, not wanting to miss a single moment. It’s in the gleam in his eyes, the smirk plastered across his face as he reaches him, revealing his brutal intentions.
The bastard drops to his knees, pleading.
Vian yanks him up by the neck and backs him against the wall, slamming his head into it. The wail tumbling from his mouth reveals the spikes embedded in his back, red flowing down the white wall in a painting of death, the contrast as jarring as it is fascinating.
“Strip,” Vian says, his deep voice in control.
“What?” he stammers.
Vian’s jaw sharpens, making him appear even more lethal. “Now.”
He peels himself off the spiked wall, his face paling, and with uncoordinated movements, he removes his shirt and pants while a puddle of red gathers at his feet.
His flaccid, small dick elicits a smile on my face.
“Get it up,” my husband orders.
I blink, realizing where he is heading, while a rush travels through me. It’s arousal mixed with excitement, surprise mixed with horror.
Vian jerks his chin at him, saying matter-of-factly, “You wanted to rape my wife. Show me with what.”
I hate that I drank too much because I would love nothing more than to throw myself at him and let him have his way with me. I am fairly sure the alcohol evaporated during the wild ride I’ve embarked on tonight.
His world is as dark as it is elite.
His touch is as sweet as it is feral.
His mouth is as sensual as it is criminal.
Hollow cries burst from his throat. “I can’t.”
Vian cocks his head and says in an eerily low voice, “So you can only get it up for unwilling women?”
Pride blends with satisfaction, a sense of rightness overcoming me. He deserves nothing less.
“I said get it up,” he roars, the walls shaking with the force behind it.
The man jerks off, fat tears gathering in his eyes, snot bubbling under his nose.
I love the power imbalance. I feel vindicated for all the women who have suffered at the hands of men like him.
I admire my husband. For the first time, I even respect a man.
Even at his most exposed, the man is nothing like Vian, who makes me feel not only desired but safe.
He swings the blade through the air, and the punishment lands with brutal finality.
My jaw drops, and the man falls to his knees, his sobs piercing the room.
Vian doesn’t end him, though. He issues another cold command “Pick your dick up off the floor.”
With shaky fingers, the man obeys, but with the substantial blood loss, he doesn’t have much time left. Vian drags him from the floor by his hair and thrusts him back into the wall, the spikes piercing his skin again.
Sobs bounce through the room, yet their vigor wanes, sounding like a distant echo of life.
“Now, shove your dick in your mouth.” Vian says, his voice stripped of mercy.
The man’s entire body shudders as he obeys, and Vian ends him with skilled precision. He bleeds out, yet not even one drop of blood touches my man.
If I hadn’t watched the scene unfold, I would never have guessed what he did tonight.
Done with him, he spits at the ground. “A fucking disgrace.”
As I witness how personally he takes it, I can’t shake the feeling this is not only about encroaching on his territory, but about what the man threatened to do to me.
I know he loved his mother, and the one woman who came before me.
Accepting that my instinct didn’t lead me astray, I smile, thinking I was searching for him. I was lost, but he makes me feel as if I’ve found my way back.
Overwhelmed by emotion, another flash pops into my mind.
“I’ll love you in this lifetime. I’ll search for you in death. I’ll find you through eternity.”
My head must be playing tricks on me. It has changed the blurry image of the man I loved into Vian, but it looks so real as I lie in his arms, both of us bare, gazing at him like I would die without him. Not okay, brain.
It’s a warm, cozy home dressed in greens, yellows, and browns. Pictures of us cover the wall leading upstairs, and through the French windows, I see sunrays playing hide-and-seek with the leaves of an impressive tree, its branches swaying in the wind as if dancing for us.
I remember the house from the other flashback. Only this time, it reveals more details.
So tired of not remembering everything, I cup my head, willing it to stop tormenting me.
I should be overjoyed that my brain released another memory, but how can I be when it keeps changing him, distorting the past until it becomes impossible to remember what objectively happened?
The door clicks shut behind me, and I jerk in the chair.
His face drains of color. “I would stab myself before I ever hurt you,” he says, despair lacing his words.
“I know, but I was deep in thought, and your arrival startled me,” I say softly, then stand and move toward him. I wrap my arms around his torso and bury my face in his chest. “You were magnificent.”
He stiffens and grips my chin to check the truth behind my words.
I smile with my entire heart on display, and he relaxes. “What troubles you then?”
“Nothing, just another memory.”
His muscles tense under my palm. “It’s the second one,” he whispers, sounding lost in thought.
“I can’t rely on them, but I have an appointment with another therapist next week. Maybe she can fix what’s broken.”
“You’re not broken. You’re perfect.” He kisses my forehead, and we stand in each other’s arms for long minutes.
I wish I were, but when I look into his eyes, I can’t feel anything other than perfect. “Take me home.”
As we walk out, he tells the guard at the door, “Send the video to everyone, including Lew.”
Back at the penthouse, fever runs through my veins. Whether it’s the night, his presence, my mind, or my heart, I don’t know, but the heat is unbearable, so I go to the terrace for fresh air.
I slip through the door and look out over Chicago from the highest point.
“Don’t run from me.”
“You don’t want me to run to you while I’m inebriated.” I finger-quote the word, rolling my eyes at him.
He chuckles. “Is my wife needy?”
I nod, biting my lip as he brushes his knuckles down my back. Goose bumps rise in his wake, the embers of desire flaring to life again.
I grip the glass railing, and he sets his foot between my thighs, spreading me.
“Did you change your mind?” I ask, my voice ending in a seductive rasp.
“No.”
“I could beg…”
“Be a good girl.” He grabs my ass cheek, and a moan flees my mouth.
I surrender, so he gives me something, anything, before I combust.
He lifts the hem of my dress, exposing my drenched thong, a low groan vibrating in his throat.
I slap my palm on his shoulder to support myself during the ongoing wild ride.
He slides two fingers over the fabric before he brings them to his nose, inhaling my aroma. Good god, it makes me even hotter. It wouldn’t surprise me if I liquefy into magma. His pupils blow as if my scent drugs him, the vein in his neck throbbing just like my insides.
He gets on his knees and pulls my leg over his shoulder, never losing eye contact, but taking his sweet time. This man is intent on driving me wild.
“You’re cruel,” I whine.
In one instant, he rips the thong off me, discarding the shredded fabric on the floor.
“This is a prelude. In case you haven’t noticed, I always give in for you, too desperate for you.”
My mouth dries with sheer lust. “Does it mean you’ll fuck me?”
“It means I’ll take you to bed. When you wake up, you can decide.”
If I didn’t know he wants me just as badly, I would think he is postponing sex deliberately. “You’ll leave me like this?” I pant, my need overpowering me.
“Fuck, baby, don’t look at me like that. I am trying to do the right thing,” he says, sounding unsure.
“I just saw you cut someone’s dick off and make him eat it.”
A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, but I am on a rant. “If you leave me like this, I will never forgive you.” I might sound dramatic, but this man never ceases to unravel me.
He shuts his eyes for a moment before saying, “Fuck it.”
Then he buries his face between my folds and tongue and finger fucks me, devouring me with insatiable hunger.
“You taste so fucking good,” he groans in the back of his throat, revealing his gusto while I shamelessly moan, delightful sensation traveling up my core. Damn this man and his wicked tongue and skilled fingers turning my legs into Jello.
If I stretched out my hand, I could touch the sky. He makes me high on him, addicted to the pleasure he offers me. God, it’s like he knows exactly what to do so I break apart for him as if my body’s reactions guide him, applying just the perfect pressure and speed, leisurely ravishing me.
He doesn’t stop, bringing me higher and higher while my breath hitches and my body tightens, awaiting the blissful promised release.
I crash straight through rapture’s door where he waits to catch me.
In the wake of a shattering orgasm, the only things that keep me upright are the railing and his palms on my thighs, and it takes me long moments to catch my breath.
“You look drunk,” he says, sounding awed.
“On you…” I throw myself into his arms. “I don’t think I can walk straight.”
He chuckles, some levity returning.
“I love that you want my consent, but I am well aware of what I’m asking.” Something pushes me to dig deeper. “Tell me what’s truly holding you back.”
His eyes swim with hurt, shattering me. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret it.”
“Why would I?” I ask, dumbfounded.