Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
AOIFE O'MALLEY
The past few days had been a whirlwind of intensity that left me emotionally drained and oddly exhilarated.
Ronan Flanagan's visit had been like weathering a storm—every conversation a careful dance around unspoken threats, every glance a test of my worthiness to stand beside Alexander.
The man was formidable, handsome, self-confident, and fair.
I rather liked him, in fact. More than that, I respected him and could see why Alexander was so loyal to him.
But it was over now. Ronan and Cressida had left this morning, and I'd never seen a couple more desperately, beautifully in love.
The way he looked at her, as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to humanity.
.. The proposal scene in the garden would be burned into my memory forever.
Their joy was palpable. Even I couldn't deny that magic.
The anticipation had been building all day, electric tension crackling between Alexander and me every time our eyes met, even though there was something in his gaze that gave me pause.
He was worried, and I had no idea about what.
I knew it wasn’t O’Brien. He’d said he hadn’t heard any news.
So what was it? It didn’t matter right this moment, anyway.
For now, as twilight painted the sky in shades of violet and gold, I stood at the edge of the hunting grounds wearing nothing but a thin white dress and bare feet—just as he'd instructed.
"You have a thirty-minute head start," Alexander said, his voice taking on a predatory edge that sent heat pooling between my thighs.
He held an ornate black mask in his hands—not the raven one from the first hunt, but a black, intricately designed masquerade mask that covered half his face.
The sight had me trembling. "Use it wisely. "
I studied his face in the dying light, memorizing the sharp angles before he would become the hunter. This was my choice, my request—to replace Beatrice's twisted memory with something that belonged only to us.
"And if you catch me?" I asked, though we both knew it was a matter of when, not if.
His smile was knowing as he lifted the mask. "Then you'll understand exactly what it means to be claimed by me."
Without another word, I turned and ran into the forest, my heart hammering with exhilaration rather than fear. Behind me, I heard him call out: "Run, beautiful! When I put this mask on, I won't be gentle."
The grounds were extensive, crisscrossed with paths I'd studied during the day. But as I moved deeper into the woods, instinct took over. I could hear him behind me now—the deliberate crack of branches, the measured footfalls of someone who knew these woods intimately.
I veered off the main path, crashing through undergrowth that tore at my white dress and left bloody scratches on my legs. The pain only heightened my arousal, made me feel more alive than I had in years.
A twig snapped close behind me. Too close.
I spun around and there he was—the mask transforming his features into something mythic and terrifying.
"Found you," he said in a deep, velvety voice.
I bolted again, adrenaline flooding my system as I crashed through the forest. Behind me, his pursuit was relentless. Not the frantic chase of panic—he was toying with me. He could have caught me already if he'd wanted to.
The thought sent wetness flooding between my thighs.
I heard a creek ahead, water rushing over stones in the darkness. If I could reach it, maybe I—
A hand fisted in my hair, yanking me backward with brutal force. I cried out, more from surprise than pain, as Alexander spun me around to face him. The mask made him alien, a mystery, the anonymity so, so hot.
"Did you really think you could outrun me?" he growled, his grip tightening until tears sprang to my eyes. "In my own territory?"
"Fuck you," I spat, trying to twist away. The pain in my scalp sent sparks of arousal straight to my core.
His laugh was dark, appreciative. "There's the fire I wanted to see."
He slammed my back against a tree, bark scraping my already torn dress, his body pinning me in place. Through the mask's eye holes, I could see his pupils dilated with hunger.
"You like this," he observed, one hand still fisted in my hair while the other traced the rapid pulse at my throat. "The pain, the fear. Your nipples are hard as diamonds, and I can smell how wet you are."
"You're wrong," I lied, even as my body betrayed me by arching into his touch.
"Am I?" His free hand ripped the thin fabric of my dress, exposing my breast to the cool night air. When his thumb scraped roughly over my nipple, I couldn't suppress my moan. "Your body doesn't lie, beautiful. You're dripping for me."
He released my hair only to grab both my wrists, pinning them above my head with one large hand. The position stretched me against the tree, leaving me completely vulnerable to his touch.
"I should punish you for running," he mused, "for making me chase you through the woods like some wild animal."
"Then do it," I challenged, meeting his gaze through the mask. "If you think you can break me."
His free hand moved to my throat, not squeezing but resting there with an implicit threat.
"Careful what you ask for," he warned. "I'm not feeling particularly gentle tonight."
Before I could respond, he hauled me away from the tree, half-dragging me toward the sound of running water. The creek was narrow but deep, moonlight turning the surface to liquid silver.
"On your knees," he commanded, shoving me down onto the rocky bank.
I complied, my knees scraping against stone as I knelt before him. The position was submissive, degrading, and it sent liquid heat flooding through my core.
"Hands behind your back."
I obeyed, watching as he produced a length of rope from somewhere on his person. The silk whispered against my skin as he bound my wrists, the restraints tight enough to bite if I struggled.
"Now," he said, crouching before me so we were at eye level, "let's see how well you can follow orders."
He grasped my chin roughly, forcing my mouth open with his thumb. "You're going to stay exactly like this until I decide what to do with you. And if you move, if you try to run again..." He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "I'll make sure you regret it."
The threat sent shivers down my spine, made my bound hands clench instinctively behind my back. This was exactly what I'd wanted—to experience the full force of his true nature without the safety net of civilised restraint.
"Please," I whispered, not entirely sure what I was begging for.
"Please what?" He traced my lower lip with one finger, the gesture deceptively gentle. "Please hurt you? Please use you? Please remind you exactly who's in control here?"
"All of it," I admitted, my voice breaking. "Everything. I want to feel what she felt, but I want it to be real. Not twisted by madness."
He went perfectly still, studying my face in the moonlight. Then, without warning, he hauled me to my feet and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
"Then that's exactly what you'll get," he growled, carrying me deeper into the woods as I hung helpless across his back. "But don't think for a second that you'll be able to handle everything I want to do to you."
The hunting lodge appeared through the trees like something from a dark fairy tale.
Alexander kicked the door open, carrying me inside where candles flickered throughout the single room, casting dancing shadows on rough stone walls.
A fire crackled in the hearth, warming air that smelled of cedar and anticipation.
He deposited me beside a high-backed wooden chair positioned to face the door, leather restraints attached to its arms and legs with careful precision.
On a small table beside it lay an assortment of items that made my breath catch: silk rope, riding crop, and most prominently, a wicked-looking hunting knife with an ornate silver handle.
"Welcome to your education," he said gruffly. "Let's see how you handle this."
He cut my bonds, rubbing circulation back into my wrists with surprising gentleness before grasping my torn dress and ripping it completely off me. I stood naked before him, firelight playing over my skin, marked with scratches from our chase through the woods.
"Perfect," he murmured, circling me slowly. "You look like a wild thing. Untamed. Ready to be broken."
Without warning, he grasped my hair again, using it to guide me toward the chair. "Sit."
The leather was cool against my heated skin as I settled into position. Alexander knelt before me, securing my wrists to the chair arms, then my ankles, spreading my legs wide until I was completely exposed and vulnerable.
Only then did he remove the mask.
His face was flushed with exertion and arousal, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my breath catch. Without the barrier of the mask, this became personal again—not the faceless domination of a stranger, but the claiming of a woman by the man she was falling in love with.
"Better," he said, setting the mask aside and reaching for the knife. "I want you to see my face when I mark you. I want you to know exactly who's doing this to you."
The blade caught firelight as he lifted it, testing its weight.
"I didn't use this with Beatrice," he said, his voice rough with something between confession and promise. "This is something I reserve for special occasions. For someone who can appreciate the artistry."
My core clenched at his words. "Show me," I breathed.
He approached slowly with the knife. "This requires absolute trust," he said, kneeling between my spread thighs. "One wrong move, one moment of panic, and you could be seriously hurt."
"I trust you," I said simply, meaning it completely. "Do whatever you want to me."
The flat of the blade pressed against my inner thigh, cold steel contrasting with my fevered skin. I gasped at the sensation, my back arching as much as the restraints allowed.
"Feel how sharp it is," he murmured, drawing the knife higher with exquisite care. "One wrong move and it would cut you. But I won't let that happen. I'm going to take such good care of you."
The blade traced patterns on my skin—never cutting, never pressing hard enough to break flesh, but always present, always dangerous. Every nerve ending turned into a live wire of sensation.
"Please," I gasped as the knife teased closer to my core without quite touching where I needed it most.
"Please what, beautiful?" He traced the blade along my hip bone, watching my face intently. "Tell me exactly what you want."
"Touch me," I begged, abandoning pride completely. "I need to feel you."
He set the knife aside temporarily, replacing steel with warm flesh as his fingers found my pussy. I was already soaking wet, my body betraying the extent of my arousal.
"Christ, you're dripping," he growled, sliding two fingers inside me with one smooth motion. "The chase, the knife, being bound and helpless—it all turns you on, doesn't it?"
"Yes," I sobbed, my hips bucking against his hand despite the restraints. "God, yes."
He worked me with practiced skill, his thumb finding my clit as his fingers curled to hit that perfect spot inside me. Just as I felt my climax building, he withdrew his touch completely.
"Not yet," he said, reaching for the knife again. "You don't come until I say you can."
The blade returned to my skin, this time tracing the underside of my breast with hair-raising precision. I held my breath, every muscle tense as steel whispered across sensitive flesh.
"Breathe," he commanded. "Trust me. This is about the edge of danger, the illusion of control. I would never truly hurt you."
The knife continued its journey, mapping my body while his free hand tormented my aching cunt. The combination was overwhelming—pleasure and the threat of pain so intricately woven, I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
After what felt like hours of exquisite torture, the restraints around my wrists clicked open, then my ankles. Suddenly I was free, though I made no move to escape.
"Ride me," he commanded, settling into the chair himself after quickly shedding his clothes. His cock stood proud and ready, and I couldn't suppress a moan at the sight of him.
I straddled him eagerly, my back to the door as he'd positioned himself. The angle let me sink down slowly onto his length, feeling every inch as he filled me completely.
"That's it," he encouraged, his hands gripping my hips when I began to move. "Ride my cock like the perfect little goddess you are."
I established a rhythm that had us both gasping, the knife temporarily forgotten while more primal needs took over. But Alexander wasn't done with his games. I felt cool steel against my back as he traced the blade down my spine while I rode him.
"So beautiful," he breathed, the knife following the curve of my waist. "Taking my cock so perfectly while trusting me with this blade."
I turned in his lap to face him, and the new angle sent shockwaves through my system. His eyes burned into mine, dark with desire and something deeper that made my heart skip.
"Come for me now," he ordered, his thumb finding my clit as I continued to ride him. "Show me how much you love being owned by me."
The command sent me spiralling over the edge. I came with a scream that echoed off the stone walls, my inner walls clenching around him rhythmically as pleasure consumed me.
While our breathing slowly returned to normal, Alexander cupped my face in his hands, his expression serious despite our intimate position.
"Aoife," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I love you."
The words hit me like a physical blow, emotions I'd kept carefully locked away threatening to overwhelm me. "Alexander—"
A branch snapped outside, the sound sharp in the sudden silence. My breath caught, eyes widening as Alexander tensed beneath me.
The explosion of pain in my side came with the sound of gunfire. I gasped, feeling warmth spreading across my stomach as Alexander's hand came away from my abdomen stained with blood.
"Well, well," came a familiar voice from the doorway, dripping with manic satisfaction. "What a touching scene."
Beatrice stood silhouetted in the entrance, a smoking gun in her trembling hand. Her eyes were wild, her smile delirious.
"Did you really think you could replace me so easily?" she asked, giggling. "Did you think I would just ... disappear?"
My vision blurred as shock and blood loss took hold. The last thing I heard was Beatrice's laughter, high and broken, echoing through the hunting lodge as the darkness claimed me.