Kaios
There’s so much more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there? Kneeling before you was a man begging you to be his wife. He wants what most men want—to cage you as his ray of hope, the wind beneath his wings. Yadda, yadda. Bullshit, bullshit.
As far as you know, Christian Royce Cavanaugh III is a good man. Old money. Military family. A picture-perfect catch. But I know his dirty little secrets, Naomi. And you don’t. Not yet.
All night, I ached for you—your scent, your skin, the way that silky dress clung to your body.
My dick was hard enough to shatter fucking cinder blocks, watching you play the perfect bride-to-be.
Because even when you were there with him, your thoughts were with me.
I don’t have to touch you for you to understand that you belong to me.
I’m already inside your mind, aren’t I? Right where I told you I’d be.
‘Hate to interrupt your mind-numbing lament, but this is getting a bit creepy’, Cain groans. ‘Even for you.’
Do you know how easy it was to get close to you? A few digital breadcrumbs, a fake résumé, a charming smile—that’s all it took to get next to you.
The owner of Chat Noir wasn’t even hiring when I walked in on that sunny Tuesday afternoon. Barbra Vance, the fiery redhead who hired me, didn’t even glance at my references. She might as well have handed me the keys herself; she was so needy and desperate for attention.
One touch, and she came apart like a sad, broken toy. Her husband should thank me. She’s less miserable now.
But you’ll never know what that’s like, to settle for a loveless, sexless marriage. You will never have to stoop to such yearning, such desperation. I won’t allow it.
‘No, really.’ Veal chimes in, and I feel his frustration welling up under my skin, in every pore. ‘What the fuck are you even on about?’
“My gorgeous Little Dove,” I mumble less to anyone else but myself, but Ryzen anger boils my blood anyway.
I wanted to bend you over that table tonight. Wanted to make you scream my name while that little fucker watched. To show him, and you, exactly who you belong to. You felt it, didn’t you? The way my presence makes your skin hum. You were right there with me.
But then your head was in his lap, you were going to give him what belongs to me. That’s when my patience ended. I tripped the alarm in your car. And like clockwork, he played the white knight.
The true test of my restraint came later, still. Watching you run past me in that little blue dress; fuck, it could drive a saint to sin. You couldn’t see me—eyes blown wide, adrenaline racing through your veins, that delicious scent of fear clinging to your skin. You were… breathtaking.
‘Fuck it. Be a creep then. But at least tell me I get to taste her tonight,’ Cain pipes up again.
You thought I was going to hurt him, didn’t you? But I didn’t. I didn’t need to. The look on your face was reward enough. You disobeyed your husband-to-be for me, showing me exactly what you crave…Even if you don’t realize it yet.
The unknown turns you on. Pain drives you wild. You don’t want someone to handle you with the white gloves everyone else insists on. What you want is control. And I’m the only one who can give it to you. I’ll take your hand, Naomi, and let you revel in your darkest desires.
I’ll give you what you need.
‘STOP IGNORING ME, MOTHERFUCKER!’ Cain growls, sending shards of ice into my veins. At least the icy hot of my demons’ rage simmers my throbbing cock.
“Fucking go away!” I grit, pushing him farther into the recesses of The Abyss.
It’s hard enough to keep my thoughts straight after allowing that fucker to walk away, unscathed, for the second time may I add. My racing thoughts are only half of the testament of my shattered psyche. The other half…
‘Not even if you wanted us to,’ Ryzen chuckles, the sound vibrates through every corner of my mind. One of the few occasions he even speaks, and it would be tonight, to add to the shards of my sanity I’m holding on to by a thread.
My phone chimes with a highly anticipated, but foreseeable response.
Naomi:
You know what? You’re going to wish you never fucking pissed me off.
It warms something inside me as I watch her close the curtain, her silhouette storming off. Too bad for her, it makes me hard as fuck when she mouths off—and I will fill that filthy mouth up until she can’t even scream my name.
Most women want their dream relationship, but you crave something darker than any fairy tale. Something that makes her feel real.
“Hey, Asshole!” Sweet music to my ears. She storms toward me, fire blazing in her eyes. “You think you can just show up whenever you want? At my house? In my room?”
Ah, there it is. That spark. That rage, that makes her come alive. She hurls her half-eaten apple at me, and I catch it without breaking stride. Her steps falter, and I can’t help but smile under my mask.
“That’s called breaking and entering, creep,” she spits, trying to sound firm.
But I can see it—what she’s trying so hard to hide.
It’s in the way her chest rises and falls, the slight tremor in her voice.
“We have cameras, you know,” she continues, her chin lifting. “I’ll give the footage to the police.”
You also have security, gorgeous. And I still waltzed right past them.
If I took her right now, the cameras wouldn’t see my face. There is no face to see—just the mask I chose for tonight’s theatrics. The full black balaclava, fused with a red-and-black silicone skeleton bonded over the top, is dramatic, yes, but she seems to like it, so it’s worth it.
I let her finish her explosive little introduction, barely able to conceal my amusement.
Taking a deliberate step closer, I lower my head to her ear.
“Why would that matter?” I murmur. “You flew right to me, my pretty little dove.” A low chuckle rolls off my tongue as I pull back, my eyes drinking in her expression.
Her breath hitches—and there it is—a sobering moment of clarity.
“What would they see when they checked those cameras, hm?” I ask, tilting my head.
“A woman in distress… or a woman who willingly walked out here to talk to an old friend?”
“You are not my friend,” she snaps, her tone as fiery as ever. I expected resistance, and her defiance is intoxicating, but her fear is the sweetest drug. Like a true glutton, I drink her in.
“Oh, that’s not the impression I got when you begged me to touch you while your pussy dripped for me,” I say, my tone dipping lower, silkier.
Please don’t leave.
The memory claws its way to the surface—her voice trembling, sweet as sin. It’s seared into me, the way her body yearned for me. Even now, I remember how close I came to losing control, to going back on my word and giving in to her.
Her eyes narrow. “Those words were said under the influence. If I was in my right mind, I would’ve never invited you to my bed.”
‘Fine.’ Cain snarls, claws rearing to bite into her. ‘Fuck her into the dirt right here.’
Something snaps inside me. The rage is almost blinding, hot and consuming.
My blood pounds, my jaw locking so tight I hear my teeth grind.
She wouldn’t invite me, but she’d let that scum put his hands on her, taste her, mark her as his?
Never again. She’s mine. I’d lock her away before I let that happen.
“We’ll see,” I bite out through clenched teeth, my voice vibrating with restrained fury. Her breath stumbles out of her, and instinctively, she takes a step back.
Her eyes widen when I grab her wrist and tug her closer again. She shivers, the motion rippling through her body like the sweetest confession.
“Please…” I know she means to sound fearful, but it tumbles out as a deliciously needy moan.
“Look at you, so pretty when you tremble for me,” I press my nose to her curls, letting her scent overwhelm me, every inhale a punishment, battering my threadbare control. My voice is nothing but ash when I whisper, “Are you afraid, Little Dove?”
She’s so damn transparent—to me, at least. Everything she feels is written across her body, clear as day. Her thighs pressing together in a futile attempt at control as she bites down hard on her bottom lip.
She nods slowly, hesitant, and my dick twitches at her admission. She’s a masterpiece of contradictions—fear and desire tangled together, her primal urges fighting against her will. I ache to taste her, to feel her quivering like this under my tongue.
I lift my hand, watching her flinch before brushing my thumb along her bottom lip, prying it free from her teeth.
That tiny movement shouldn’t fuck me up the way it does.
But everything about her drives me wild—the way she looks up at me, waiting for my next move.
The way she gasps, but her body arches closer.
My eyes rake over her face, memorizing every delicious detail. The flutter of her lashes, the twitch of her brow. I tilt my head to the side, cataloging each reaction, committing it to memory.
“I want you to bear in mind, threats are not something I’m fond of, especially baseless ones,” I murmur, my voice a low, dangerous hum.
I bend slightly at the knees, bringing my face level with hers, even though she can’t see the eyes burning behind my mask.
“We both know you’re not calling the police.
” I brush a fallen curl behind her ear. “What fun would that be?”
Grazing the back of my fingers across her cheek, I revel in her sensitivity as she moans. With my other hand, I reach into my pocket, pulling out my co-star.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying t—” With a steadying breath, I flick open my switchblade. Her honeyed exhale seeps through my mask, as her words die on her lips.