Rosalind
ROSALIND
T he weight of Hunter's grip on my arm was a heavy reminder of the new world I'd been sold into. I strode into the gala on his arm, the black fabric of my dress clinging to every curve, earning me several stares. The ballroom buzzed with the kind of high-stakes tension that made men like Hunter thrive—a room full of predators in expensive suits and women with eyes sharp as knives.
The silk rustled, and jewels glittered under the chandeliers’ unforgiving light as we moved through the crowd. Marco shadowed us, his gaze lingering on me longer than necessary. I felt it like a caress, an unseen force that set my nerves on edge. His relentless attention was a crackle in the air, dangerous and alive.
" You must be ," a senator cooed, reaching for my hand with his sweaty palm. I let him kiss it, feeling nothing but the cold calculation pumping through my veins. I smiled, honey-sweet, and watched his eyes fog over with something like desire—or maybe just greed.
" Your husband is quite the legend," he murmured, voice thick with the stench of scotch and tooth decay.
" Is he?" My laugh was a wind chime, delicate and dismissive. " I find legends are often more fiction than fact."
Hunter’s presence loomed beside me. I didn’t need to look at him to know his jaw was set as he watched and listened.
" Your work with the community is admirable," I continued, talking to the chubby man. " Perhaps you'd be interested in supporting a new... initiative?"
" Anything for you, Mrs . Desmond ," the senator purred, already ensnared.
The policemen were easier—hungry dogs looking for scraps. A glance here, a whisper there, and they were panting with the prospect of Cinder Crew favors.
" Careful , ," Hunter breathed into my ear later, his voice a blade sliding across my skin. " Don't get too friendly with the vermin. I don't like the way they' re looking at you."
" Who says I'm not setting traps?" I shot back, even as the heat of his body seared through the layers of my gown.
His laugh was a low rumble, the sound of rolling thunder promising devastation. " That's my girl."
I shivered, not from fear but from the thrill of the game. As we danced among the wolves, I twirled under Hunter's arm, the darkness in his eyes reflecting my own transformation. The once clear waters of my soul now ran with ink, each step into this life staining me further.
" Enjoying yourself?" Marco asked when some urgent matter pulled Hunter away, his voice low.
" Immensely ," I replied, my gaze fixed on the pulsing vein in his neck, wondering how it would feel beneath my lips. I shivered as I thought it; Marco was dangerous. Not physically, but this... raw tension that held note every time he was near.
" Good ," he said, and I heard the shake in his tone. " Stay close."
And as the night wore on, I danced with devils and dined with thieves, my laughter a siren song that lured them all toward destruction. With each whispered word and each subtle touch, I built my name as Desmond .
And when I looked in the mirror, the reflection that stared back was no longer a nymph of nature but a queen cloaked in darkness, her crown forged in the fires of a world where only the ruthless survive.
I drifted across the marble floor, the hem of my black gown whispering with every step. The air was thick with expensive perfume and the underlying scent of jealousy. I felt their eyes on me – the wives and daughters of rival families. Their glares cut sharper than knives, but I had learned to wear their disdain like jewels.
Marco had warned me of one in particular. She had set her gaze on Hunter long ago and wouldn't take it too kindly that a nobody snatched him. She stood among them, her gaze locked onto mine. I sauntered over, the sway of my hips an unspoken challenge.
" Isabella ," I cooed. " So thrilled you could make it."
Her lips curled into a smirk, matching my own. " , darling, wouldn't miss it for the world."
The dance began, not of feet, but of minds. We circled each other with compliments that held double edges and laughter that hid daggers. And bit by bit, I wove them into my web, their curiosity piqued, their envy a tool to be exploited.
" Your husband is quite something," one whispered, eyeing the room where Hunter's presence lingered even in his absence. A small stab of the green-eyed monster reared before she stuffed it down. Interesting how many women wanted a man with a soul of blackness.
" Only as strong as those who stand beside him," I replied, my hand sweeping over the crowd – an invitation, a promise.
Their nods came slowly, grudging respect blooming like bruises on pale skin.
As the night wore on, they came to me, these high-bred vipers. They sought my favor, my whispers shaping the world around us. I saw myself reflected in their eyes, or who I was, not all that long ago. Relatively untainted. Touched by this world but not engrossed in it.
Marco watched, his presence never far. His eyes never strayed, and when he approached, it was with the grace of a panther, all coiled strength and lethal beauty.
" Care to dance?" he asked, his hand extended.
I placed my palm in his, letting him lead me onto the dance floor. Our bodies moved together, a dangerous tango of want and warning. Marco's touch seared through the fabric of my dress, branding me with a heat that spoke of forbidden things.
" Keep your friends close," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.
" Enemies closer," I finished. " But which are you?"
" Neither . "
We danced until the music became a pulse that matched our own. It felt natural. Normal . It was as if I was built to be in his embrace, and yet, as I thought that, an immoral thought crossed my mind. Perhaps ... I could find a fleeting love, even trapped in a contract with a lion.
The glimmer of the chandelier caught my attention as I refocused. I felt his gaze before he even touched me—the weight of it, heavy with ownership and pride. Hunter’s fingers traced the curve of my bare shoulder, a silent claim that sent shivers down my spine.
" Careful , ," he rumbled, close enough for his breath to caress my neck. " Marco's eyes might be hungry, but remember who you belong to."
A smirk played on my lips, but the darkness in his tone was no laughing matter. His thumb brushed against the delicate skin beneath my jaw, a soft threat. " I'm yours," I whispered, not a declaration but an acknowledgment.
" Excuse me, Marco . Let me take my queen for a spin."
With a grunt, he let me go and stepped back into the shadows.
The music shifted, and a slow song fluttered over the speakers. He led me into the middle of the floor, his hand firm at the small of my back, commanding every step. Our bodies aligned, his hard angles to my soft curves. As strange as it felt, it also was beginning to feel like puzzle pieces that just clicked after a few tries.
His grip tightened, possessive, as if he could mold me to his will with just the pressure of his palms. And damn if part of me didn't crave to be shaped by those hands—hands that could both protect and destroy without hesitation. Our gazes locked, twin infernos of want and dominion, silently staking a claim with every glance.
" You're a Goddamn sight," he growled, the words laced with a raw edge as we moved through the sea of envious stares.
" Thank you, sir," I breathed, the word slipping out, wrapped in the silk of submission and defiance.
" I'm gonna eat you live later tonight, bride," his lips brushed against my temple in a fleeting kiss that promised retribution and ecstasy in equal measure.
The heat between us writhed and pulled at my skin. Everywhere he touched, he trailed a blaze. He'd primed my body to turn on at the slightest touch, whispering words that I'd come to crave.
I felt his hand, calloused and commanding, wrap around my wrist and pull me away from the ballroom's prying eyes. The air shifted, charged with the scent of anticipation as Hunter led me away. He pushed open the door to a lavish bathroom, the marble and gold accents mocking our primal intent.
The door slammed behind us with a thud that echoed off the walls, sealing our fate. Hunter turned toward me, his near-black eyes blazing with a hunger that mirrored my own. I could feel the power thrumming in my veins. I could make a mafia king lose his mind at an event as important as this. Where making connections was key. Yet , here he was, wanting to fuck me raw.
" Mine ," he growled, a single word that stripped away any pretense of civility. Our bodies collided, a mess of limbs and raw desire as he backed me against the cool marble vanity. His hands roamed over the curve of my hip, up my spine, yanking down the zip of my gown with an urgency that left no room for doubt. Fabric pooled at my feet, and I stood bare before him, my nipples hard against the cool air. He stripped, throwing his clothes in a heap over mine.
Hunter's eyes raked over me, taking in every inch of exposed skin with a possessive gaze. The reflection in the mirror caught my attention—a woman transformed by the shadows of this underworld, her innocence a distant memory. I reached out, fingers tracing the brand on his chest, the symbol of the Cinder Crew that bound us in more ways than one .
" Show me who you belong to," he demanded, his voice a rough command that sent shivers down my spine.
" Only you," I breathed, surrendering to the intoxicating mix of fear and exhilaration that only he could evoke. My words were a catalyst, igniting the fire that had been simmering between us.
His mouth claimed mine in a kiss laced with promise, punishing yet achingly tender. I tasted the power we wielded together, a dangerous mixture. His hands gripped my thighs, lifting me onto the counter as if I weighed nothing.
There was no gentleness as he entered me, only the relentless drive of possession. Each thrust was a claim, a branding that left no question of my role in this twisted dynasty. The sound of flesh against flesh filled the room, a crude melody that underscored the rawness of our union.
" Fuck , ," he cursed through gritted teeth, his movements growing more frenzied, more desperate. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, reveling in the sharp bite of pleasure that bordered on pain.
" Harder ," I urged, the plea torn from my throat as I met his savage pace. I clung to him, nails digging into the ink that marred his skin, marking him as surely as he marked me.
The bathroom echoed with the moans of our sin. The air was thick, laced with the scent of sex and sweat, an invisible brand that claimed the space as ours—and no one else's.
I watched in the mirror, the cool glass reflecting back a woman transformed. My hair was a wild mane, dark curls sticking to my flushed cheeks, allowing his man to fuck me into oblivion.
His hands, those lethal weapons that could end life as easily as they had coaxed pleasure from my body, slid possessively around my waist, pulling me closer to him. The raw intensity in his nearly black eyes burned into mine as he pulled back and pushed forward.
My climax shattered through me in violent waves, dragging a guttural cry from deep within my chest. Hunter followed his release, a hot rush that seared through my senses, branding me irrevocably as his.
We remained locked together, panting and sweating. Our reflection in the mirror was a painting of debauched royalty.
As our breathing slowed, the realization of what we had done—what we had become—settled over me like a mantle. I'd absorbed him as he'd absorbed me. One and the same. And I was starting to fucking crave it. Crave him .
" ," he murmured, his voice low and laced with something akin to reverence. But there were no words needed between us, not when our bodies had already spoken volumes. We were the rulers of this underbelly empire, our joining forged in darkness and sealed with blood and lust.
We dressed in silence and emerged from the bathroom, the click of my heels against the marble a sharp contrast to the stillness that followed our storm. The grandeur of the event engulfed us once more, the buzz of the crowd a low hum that couldn't drown out the pounding of my heart. Heads turned, whispers danced through the air like wayward spirits, their gazes taking in our disheveled state, reading the story written on our bodies. I didn't care. Who was going to challenge me? Challenge Hunter ? I watched with satisfaction as Vanessa's lips curled in disgust, and she threw her glass down and stormed out of the room.
Marco's eyes found mine across the room, the hurt that flickered there a crack in his otherwise stoic fa?ade. A pang of something—guilt, maybe, or pity—fluttered in my chest before I quashed it. He didn't know me. I owed him nothing.
I met Marco's gaze unflinching, the cold queen to Hunter's ruthless king, letting the silence between us speak the words we'd never say. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek before he nodded once, his face masked, a signal of returning to duty.
Hunter's hand at the small of my back was a brand, a claim that seethed through the fabric of my gown. We moved through the throng of high-profile criminals and corrupt officials, each step a declaration of our dominion, our unity in this twisted dance of power and darkness.
Their eyes followed, some lusting, others calculating, but all recognizing the shift in the tectonic plates of power. A senator brushed past, his hand lingering a fraction too long on my waist—a mistake. My smile didn't waver, lips red as blood, but my gaze cut through him sharper than a switchblade. He recoiled and disappeared as fast as he'd appeared.
" Time to go," Hunter growled, the command rough and low, meant only for my ears. The heat of his breath fanned across my neck, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear. A final glance at the sea of faces confirmed it—the envy, the respect, the dread. They saw us, truly saw us, as the rulers we were.
Outside , the night air hit my face, cool against the flush of my cheeks. The city sprawled out before us, lights twinkling like fallen stars. We descended the steps, Marco falling into step behind us .
" Drive us home," Hunter commanded as Marco slid into the driver's seat. The car door closed, and the engine's growl was a purr of satisfaction as we drove away.
In the leather-scented confines of the limousine, Hunter's hand claimed my thigh, his grip bruising. We rode in silence, Marco daring to sneak a glance at me once in a while.
The solid thud of the mansion's front door echoed behind us. Marble underfoot felt cold compared to Hunter's heat radiating beside me. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer as if the world outside had no claim on me now. We were alone. Marco had taken his leave.
" Fuck , woman," he growled low, his voice a gravelly sound that vibrated through me. " Tonight , you outdid yourself."
" Their eyes were on us, Hunter . All of them," I murmured. This all felt so surreal.
" Let 'em stare," he sneered, pride sharp in his eyes as they met mine. " They saw the queen you are."
We moved through the halls, our shadows entwined, swallowed by the darkness that was our domain. The clink of my heels against the stone punctuated the silence, a steady beat to the pounding of my heart. His grip tightened, possessive and demanding .
Our bedroom awaited. The door shut with a click, sealing us from the world. Hunter's hands roamed, peeling layers and dropping them to the floor.
" So many plans," he said between kisses that branded me his. " Expansion . Retribution ."
" Power ," I breathed out, lost in the heady mix of ambition and desire. " We'll bleed the city dry."
" Damn right, baby girl." Approval laced his rough words, igniting a fire that raged beyond control. " Now come sit on my dick."