Chapter Twenty-Three
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Henri
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I DIDN’T RETURN TO MY bedroom until silence reigned.
No sounds of Ily moaning around every mouthful. No clink of crockery as she traded empty plates for full ones. I sat on the cold stone floor, leaning against the door with my arms on my knees and my head in my hands, sinking into Hades itself.
The way she’d looked at me.
The flush of her skin.
The heat of her barely-given kiss.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know the lust she felt at dinner still haunted her. I’d fucked her but hadn’t finished her. I’d used her for my own gain, just like Victor expected.
We completed our bargain of Master and slave, yet I hadn’t expected it to leave such a nasty aftertaste. Or for my insides to tear into shreds every time I tortured myself remembering what she’d said.
We.
She’d used the word we.
Together.
Despite everything that I’d done to her. Despite the degradation, technical rape, and very real threat of death hovering over both our necks, she still aligned herself with me.
We.
Together.
Merde.
It’d taken everything I had to get away from her. To stop myself from shoving her down and taking her. I wanted to take her as me, not the Master I played. Take her as a man who was rapidly realising that something else lurked within him.
Something deeper, darker, nastier.
Something loyal and lost and longing.
I didn’t know what lurked inside, but I did have urges to wrap her in bubble wrap and place her on a pedestal, all while tearing into her mind and chaining her to me forever.
Those needs fucked me up.
Those needs were getting harder and harder to control.
And when she’d kissed me?
The first time anyone had gotten close enough to give me something instead of letting me take, I’d broken.
I’d hurt.
Goddamn, I’d hurt.
Even now, my heart throbbed with bruises. I couldn’t stop picturing the mortification on her pretty face. She’d tried to kiss me. To give me peace, comfort...herself.
Christ, you’re a fool.
I should’ve kissed her back.
Should’ve put aside my stupid promise not to taste and kissed her.
I groaned and rubbed my face.
All my life, I’d searched for somewhere—someone—to belong to. I’d let loneliness become a trigger and emotion to become deep pain. I’d twisted myself into something that craved another’s despair, all so I could forget my own.
I’d broken when I was just a boy, unwanted by a mother far too traumatised to care. I’d learned to survive in a laughless, loveless home, and now both of those things fucking petrified me.
The thought of Ily seeing that brokenness? Seeing just what a fraud I was—that I couldn’t stomach the thought of loving or laughing or being...vulnerable?
Jesus Christ.
Yanking on my hair, it took all my willpower to stay behind that door while Ily ate unmolested. I gave her the only thing I could: space. Precious time to gather herself together so tomorrow she could stay strong and pretending by my side.
If I managed to turn off the scrambler, I had no idea if Q would come immediately or take his sweet ass time arranging his mercenaries.
He might come at dawn or dusk.
He might never come.
And if I planned on keeping myself and Ily alive, then I had to be fucking smart.
Starting with not kissing her. Not caring for her. Not allowing the beast inside me to claim what wasn’t his to claim.
She’s a tool.
That’s it.
As long as I thought of her as nothing more than a co-star and she continued playing along with me, then we could get through this.
We have to.
* * * * *
I crashed to the floor.
I woke with a jolt, hands fisted, arms up, ready for war.
It took a moment to get my bearings, tearing at the exhausted curtains drawn across my mind. The light above the vanity burned my eyes, glowing around the tree stump-shaped sink and mocking me where I hunched on the floor.
Bits and pieces came back.
Sliding down the door while waiting for Ily to eat. Tiredness creeping over me the longer I gave her space. My chin nodding, my eyes closing...
I must’ve drifted off sitting up.
Great.
Groaning at the kinks in my spine, I staggered to my feet. I jerked as my gaze bounced back in the mirror. Unkempt and messy hair. Almost gaunt face. A thicker five o’clock shadow from not shaving.
Goddammit, what time is it?
Was it the witching hour and time to execute a little breaking-and-entering?
Panic wrenched through me.
Ily.
I’d left her alone for God knew how long. Had she left to go back to Peter and the others? I’d locked the door, but what if someone decided to take her—
Shit.
Unlocking the bathroom door, I stumbled into the bedroom.
And froze.
Ily lay curled up right in the middle of the bed as if she’d toppled sideways after her last mouthful.
Her legs drawn up to her chin. Arms wrapped around her knees in a foetal position.
Her negligee didn’t offer any decency, and the peak of her pussy between her delectable thighs sent my heart reeling.
She flinched in her sleep as if horror bled into her dreams. Her soft pink lips parted, golden eyes squeezed closed, and raven hair spilled like ink around her.
As beautiful as she was, she didn’t look peaceful.
She looked afraid and tense, and every now and again, her entire body twitched as if running from monsters.
She’s so small.
So goddamn breakable.
I stood looming over her like a motherfucking stalker. Unable to look away. Completely corrupted by the sight of someone who’d been a total stranger yesterday and had somehow become someone of such importance today.
Important?
To the mission only.
Balling my hands, I nodded.
Yes, that’s what I meant.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Padding around her, I gathered up the empty plates from the end of the bed and stacked them as quietly as I could on the trolly by the door. My stomach snarled, annoyed that she’d eaten every fry and every crumb. It seemed only one of us would be sated tonight.
And that made me...glad?
Glad that I’d provided for her. Male satisfaction that I’d fed her and housed her.
Snagging the soggy slices of tomato she’d left on the plate from the burger—obviously not a fan—I devoured them quickly before swiping my hands on my trousers. The thick, decadent carpet kept my footfalls silent as I drifted to the large wardrobe and checked the clock on the wall.
Next to the mother-of-pearl clock, a huge painting of a black-horned unicorn being butchered glistened in the moonlight. Its blood dripped all over a forest glade while an evil goblin hacked off its head.
I wrinkled my nose.
Victor ought to get a different interior designer.
Even raping bastards didn’t want to look at the murder of a mythical creature when trying to sleep.
I focused on the clock again.
2:20 a.m.
A bit early but Victor’s guests might be in bed. After all, if every night was party night, then sleep often trumped drinking. Especially if fucking had been involved. They would’ve passed out in a climax-induced coma, out until morning.
I hope.
Opening the wardrobe, I winced as the doors squeaked a little.
Looking over my shoulder, I watched Ily to make sure I hadn’t disturbed her.
I meant what I said before. I needed her to sleep so she had the strength to keep acting with me. She needed to stay focused and be smart. To see pitfalls and traps before she walked into them. As much as her life relied on me keeping her safe, my life relied on hers in equal measure.
If she slipped and mentioned her incorrect theory that I was a cop...I was done for.
Then you probably shouldn’t have humiliated her when she tried to kiss you.
Ah fuck, not this again.
I didn’t want to think about the hurt in her eyes.
The way she’d tripped over an apology she didn’t owe me.
My rejection had been as brutal as if I’d slapped her, and if I could take it back—
I wouldn’t.
I balled my hands.
It was better this way.
This was the only way.
With walls between us and lots and lots of rules.
Struggling to tear my eyes off sleeping beauty with her midnight hair and nightmares, I reached into the wardrobe and selected a black t-shirt to match my black slacks. I looked on the shoe rack.
No sneakers.
Only smart dress shoes and loafers.
Both would be impractical for burglary—one clicked on stone, and the other turned into ice skates when trying to run.
Bare feet it is then.
Sighing, I turned and placed the t-shirt on the end of the bed.
Toeing off my shoes and ripping off my socks, I swayed back up and unbuttoned the white shirt I’d worn to dinner. Ily continued sleeping as I shrugged it off and tossed it onto the obnoxious blue velvet throne in the corner. The sleeve caught a bronze candle stick on the side table.
Shit—
I dashed to catch it before it fell.
Too late.
The heavy candlestick thudded and bounced on the thick carpet.
My eyes shot to Ily.
She didn’t wake but she did moan in her sleep.
A moan that sent goosebumps scattering down my spine. My cock instantly swelled; my heart got a hacksaw to try to cut its way out of my chest.
Not a scared moan.
Not a homesick moan.
Fuck no...that was a wanting moan. A moan that painted image after image of just how good it would feel to slip inside her while she slept.
Pressing down on my hardening erection, I gritted my teeth.
I hated that she had this effect on me.
Cursed whatever magic she wielded.
Move, Ri.
Stop watching her like some deranged teenager.
It took all my willpower to wrench my gaze off her and pat my pocket to check Q’s cufflinks were still safely inside. Knowing Ily had touched them made my breath short. Had she damaged the GPS chip inside? Did she have any idea that our very existence hinged on these tiny stupid things?
If I managed to turn off the scrambler, then I assumed Q could find my signal from anywhere in this twisted castle but just in case the stone walls and rock battlements blocked it, I figured I’d hide them outside on Victor’s terrace.
Perhaps shove them down the mouth of one of the roaring gargoyles.
Pulling my hand away from the two small bumps in my pocket, I scowled and went over my checklist.
Weapon.