Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Blair
I kept waking up somewhere new.
My bed. Cold concrete. A random room with an IV in my arm.
And now, here.
The moment I looked around, I knew exactly where I was.
Enzo’s room.
A soft glow from the lamp on the desk against the back wall lit the space, and a kaleidoscopic beam of gray spilled across the opposite wall from the stained-glass windows.
Above me, dark depictions of Greek gods covered the ceiling. I’d missed that detail the last time I was here.
When I pushed myself up for a better look at the books stacked on his desk, a sharp tug stopped me. I looked down at the handcuff locked around my wrist. The metal bit into my skin when I pulled against it.
My arm fell limp in defeat. I shifted my hips and slid back against the headboard until I was propped upright.
Hardly comfortable, I read the spines of the books while I tried to learn more about Enzo.
The Castle of Otranto, The Fall of the House of Usher, Crime and Punishment, and Macbeth.
All very fitting for him.
My heart rate slowed as I pictured Enzo in this bed, lost in the pages of one of those books. The thought lingered, then twisted into a vision of both of us here, side by side, buried in separate stories.
I shook my head.
Stop it, Blair.
Whatever they’d drugged me with during Initiation had to still be in my system. It was the only explanation for such a stupid thought when the man had literally held a gun to my head the night before.
The click of a door broke my thoughts.
Enzo emerged through a doorway, hair dripping with water, chest bare, a white towel slung low around his waist.
My eyes betrayed me, lifting straight to his chest before tracing the hard lines of his muscles.
Why does he have to look like the Greek gods on that ceiling?
I snapped out of my daze, my attention shifting to the other door, the one that offered escape from him.
Surely, he wouldn’t chase me down wearing only a towel, right?
“Morning, Blair,” he greeted, his voice deep and calm.
My mind flashed back to last night.
The game. The revolver pressed to my temple. Me waiting to die. His finger grazing the trigger but never pulling it.
When he’d cornered me in that booth, my heart had been ready to burst from my chest. I’d silently prayed and braced for death, but after several seconds passed without the gun firing, I’d opened my eyes.
Pain had twisted across his face before he went rigid, frustrated he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.
Something he’d probably easily done dozens of times before without hesitation.
As much as Enzo hated to admit it, there was still some humanity left inside him.
Cruelty might’ve poisoned his blood, but it still ran through a heart. A damaged one. A working one. But a heart capable of compassion.
For me anyway.
The man staring me down might want to corrupt my soul, but at least he wanted it alive.
He dropped the towel. Tremors poured through my body as my gaze fell to his large cock. It was already hard and throbbing.
I yanked the handcuff when he joined me on the bed. He didn’t slip under the blanket, just sat on the edge, staring at me while biting into the corner of his lip.
I stopped tugging when he opened his mouth and held out his tongue, where a tiny key sat. My brows furrowed when he spat it on the floor.
Frowning, I tried to free myself again.
“Quit wasting your energy,” he said. “You need it for what we’re about to do.”
“And what’s that?” I snapped, too tired for his games.
He rolled his neck. “I’m about to learn all your secrets, Blair.”
I held back the urge to tell him he’d already tried. More than once. Even a gun hadn’t worked.
“That needs to be done naked?” I asked.
“That towel was uncomfortable.” He kicked it away from the bed.
“If I tell you my secrets, then I want to know yours,” I said stubbornly.
He rolled his neck again before crawling closer. I smelled his mint toothpaste as he got in my face, and my back straightened against the headboard. I inhaled more of him, smelling fresh soap and citrus.
I gasped when he breathed my skin before his nose nudged mine. My body relaxed, briefly forgetting the jerk had me handcuffed.
Warmth spread through me, fogging my thoughts, as my free hand drifted to the tattoo on his right pec, directly over his heart.
His hand lowered to the matching mark on my stomach.
Both were broken halos.
“What does that mean?” I whispered, our mouths inches apart.
“Each Son has a symbol.” He traced my tattoo with his finger. “I marked you with mine.”
“Do you choose them yourself?”
He nodded. “We don’t do names.”
“A broken halo,” I muttered. “How very devilish of you.”
He smirked, his hand sliding lower to bunch my panties in his fist. My pulse kicked hard against my ribs.
All I wore was the T-shirt he’d given me the night before and a pair of panties.
I made no attempts to stop him.
Slowly shutting my eyes, I remembered the last time he’d touched me like this. How it’d lit up my body in ways I didn’t know existed.
“Spread them for me, my sweet Fawn,” he ordered.
My legs parted on command.
He dragged the blanket off me, then shoved the T-shirt up until it bunched beneath my breasts.
The sheets were soft against my skin as I writhed beneath him. I entered a different world when he shifted my panties to the side and slid his finger between my folds. As badly as I hated to admit it, nothing ever felt as good as when Enzo touched me.
It was like hearing music for the first time and not being punished for it.
My first taste of ice cream.
The day I was told I’d finally be free of my prison.
All of them belonged on the short list of things that would always mean happiness to me.
Enzo settled himself better between my legs, and his cock brushed my inner thighs. My muscles tensed as he gripped the base of his cock, slowly stroking himself.
I hadn’t seen many cocks, but his was definitely the biggest.
When I’d first gained freedom and access to the internet, I’d looked up porn out of curiosity more than anything. In college, people talked about it constantly—Pornhub, OnlyFans, even videos they made in their dorms.
The bed shifted as he moved closer, putting his weight on one hand outside my thighs, and he brought his cock toward my core.
His grip was strong as he ran the head over my clit, nudging the tip against it. My knees shifted up, my heels digging into the bed, my body tingling.
I ran my tongue along the inside of my teeth at the way his mouth drifted open at the pleasure I was giving him.
I wanted to plead for more. To plead for less. My mind was playing whiplash with me, the need for pleasure overtaking any rationality.
The bedframe shook when I heaved forward, pulling the handcuff with me. I’d forgotten about the damn thing. It bit deep into my skin, and I knew it’d leave a mark.
“Fuck it,” Enzo snapped, suddenly pulling away from me.
All the air escaped my lungs as I stared at him, confused, while he scooted away from me, taking that cock I was silently pleading for from where I needed it most. He bent down, his head disappearing, and when he returned, the key was in his hand.
His grip was tight when he snatched my arm and freed me from the cuff. My arm felt like Jell-O as it dropped.
With his head now only inches from mine, I stared at the man who was dragging me down to hell with him.
Cupping my hand around his chin, I held him there in place, waiting for his reaction as I took in the beauty of my tormentor.
His eyes shut as I ran my thumb along the rigid lines of his face.
Our breathing matched, pant for pant, and the weight of the devil weighing down my body felt like the very place he’d been kicked out of. I feathered my finger over his cheek to his lower lip.
That was when he jerked back, as if, for a moment, he’d broken out of his armor and suddenly needed to put it back on.
With a snarl, he wrenched himself away from me. Our eye contact fractured like the halo on his chest. I gasped as he snatched my wrists, pinned them to the bed, and flattened his body hard against mine.
His cock was caught between our bodies, rubbing against my center. I moaned when he rammed his hips against the mattress, nearly pushing me through it.
One of his hands left my wrist, and he flexed it around my jaw.
“Don’t fucking touch me unless I tell you to,” he said through a hiss.
He dug his fingers into my skin until I flinched, then inched back down my body, making himself comfortable between my legs.
He ripped my panties off and flung them behind him. They landed on his desk lamp.
His cock nudged against my clit again.
My back lifted from the mattress.
God, I want him to slip that hard cock inside me.
Want to feel full of him.
As if he could read my mind, Enzo inched the head of his cock inside me. My stomach coiled tight like a snake, wanting to unravel as waves of warmth flooded my veins.
“Please,” I whimpered in shame.
Shame from how he’d treated me.
From the way he’d told me not to fucking touch him, but had no problem touching me whenever he felt like it.
“You want this cock inside you, Blair?” he asked, tilting his hips forward so his cock went deeper, but not enough.
I whimpered, a low, murmured, “Please,” bursting from my lips.
He stared me down, as if contemplating whether I was worthy enough for him to fuck. Scooting back, he stepped off the bed.
I tugged my shirt down as low as it would go to cover myself.
He clamped his hands around my elbows and yanked me down the bed until my back was flat against it. I hit my head on the headboard at the sudden movement.
Without a word or a glance, he rejoined me on the bed.
He cracked his neck again, as if he could never break the tension loose there. His predatory eyes zeroed in on my face as he straddled me, tightened his hand around my neck, and ran his nose along my cheek.
An eerie hum left his throat as he chuckled darkly against my skin.
He dropped his head, sucking hard on my neck, marking me like I was his prey.