28
The room turns silent. Sweat pours off my skin.
I've left everyone awestruck. I never utilize the Void.
Not a single Goddamn time. Minus the encounter with the blonde woman.
I don't interact with these pricks. I knew the implications of arrogating her in front of everyone.
They're going to think I'm claiming my spot at the head of Grimshaw with Mortensen.
I gave them a show, but it wasn't for them. Nah, it was for Mortensen.
The fucker gave me no choice; I hate being controlled.
The truth is, he would have done far worse, and I refuse to share her.
My sick impulses she can manage. Her body felt like a cleansing.
The impulsive need to feel her shatter under my touch will be my Goddamn undoing.
She's got me feeling things I've not felt.
She's a spark that exhumes my vitiated cravings.
I've tried to stanch the darkness in me, but she brings it out in full force like a wrecking ball.
I stare down into her endless void. Her sanctum has been defiled. Her sanctuary shattered.
The same haunted eyes that plague me are now glassy.
An unmoved blank expression is unlike what I've seen from her.
It's clear she hasn't fucked without the use of drugs, alcohol, or other numbing agents.
Me either, Nightshade, me either. I purposely dragged it out so she would sober up from whatever shit they gave her.
Her leaden stare tells me her spirit is broken.
Why does the thought make me want to fuck her all over again until her piercing cries echo down the lithic hallways?
My father grins at me from across the room as if it's the first redeemable thing I've ever done to appease him.
I want him to think he's won. I'll never be his puppet and he will never have her.
Now I just gotta figure out my next move. Not exactly my forte to plan far ahead.
I push off Clara to admire my handiwork.
She's a cum filled, sloppy mess. The cold chains dig into her milky skin, marking her with nasty red marks.
I love it more than I should. She's silent.
Part of me wants to startle her just to see her pulse race, but instead, I unshackle her lifeless body and throw her over my shoulder effortlessly.
She's all out of fight. Listless and vacant.
Her spirit is shattered and I relish the fact I did that.
No one says shit to me when I stride through the Void. No one's going to touch her now. I've made my claim crystal clear. My impulses won, so I have no plan in place. I'll figure that shit out as I go.
I kick open the metal doors. All the fuckers part like the Red Sea for me.
Her long, blonde hair falls over my back.
Her feet dangle and I'm certain she's passed out from the pain and ordeal she's been put through.
God, I want to fuck her again. Tremors course through my body, demanding I destroy her.
The last of my restraint is lacerating me from the inside out.
I rip open the door to my Bugatti La Voiture Noire.
I lay her down in the backseat with a blanket.
She's going to hate me even more once she realizes what I'm about to do.
No matter, I'll do whatever it takes to keep her as my own personal sex slave.
All reason flies out the window. My fingers thread through my sweat coated curls.
I climb into the driver's side, throw the car in drive, and pull onto the dark road leaving the Void in my rearview.
The heat circulates through the interior, warming her glacial skin.
I drive in silence. The bumps along the old cobblestone road jostle her in the backseat.
Soft moans and breathy murmurs fill the car.
I scan the backseat through the rearview mirror.
I rub my pierced tongue along my lip. Her naked body has freed itself from the confines of the blanket.
Her nipples are hard and dying to be bitten.
Fuck, I’d love to pierce them. She's such a stunning doll.
A deadly Nightshade. She threatens my darkest desires. It scares the shit out of me.
“No . . . Mommy . . . no,” her voice pleas.
Sleepy words leave her lips. Sweat breaks out over her skin.
She thrashes against the leather seats. I return my eyes to the road, pulling into Grimshaw Cemetery.
The same place they found Jax. No one will look for her here.
I can't risk taking her back to Zain's, or worse, Mortensen's. I need to keep her for myself.
Reason leaves me. I never make thought out plans. My impulses get the best of me. She manages to drift back into a dream state. My head rests against the leather headrest and I slam the gear shift in park. I close my eyes. Shit is about to get heavy. I never make good decisions, why start now?
I dig a joint from my jeans and light up. My hands are shaky, my core jittery. She thinks she's not what I need, but she is. Her surrender, her complete devotion. I want her on her knees begging. I'm not certain I'll ever let her go after this.
I take a hit, suck in a breath and grab my jacket from the passenger seat.
The dark, washed denim wraps around my torso.
I exit the car and flick the last of my joint onto the gravel.
I rip open the backseat. Her scent assaults my senses.
Her silken skin is still damp from the warmth of the car.
Such a helpless beauty. She has a taste for danger.
What she fails to realize is the iniquitous, callous asshole I am. She's found herself in my hell.
Burn, baby, burn.
Her motionless body is light in my arms.
I carry her bridal style through the foggy graveyard and rocky gravel toward the mausoleum.
The trees rustle in the distance. I already set up the space she'll be inhabiting.
Amazing what you can accomplish under pressure and time restraints.
It's fitted with a soft mattress, a handful of outfits; the pink ones she likes, along with snacks.
Housing her elsewhere is too dangerous. I can't chance it. This is for her own good, and mine.
Her body stirs again. I stroke her hair from her eyes. This is the first time I’ve seen her look at peace, and already I'm imagining how I can make her cry.
I shoulder the metal door open and laid her down, covering her with a blanket.
I took the liberty of installing chains to the stone walls.
I attach it to her ankle, leaving her to sleep.
I take a few steps back, tilt my head, and stare.
Temptation fills my insides. The moonlight through the grating catches her frame.
The room is temperature controlled, but I know she'll still be cold.
Against my better judgement I shrug off my jacket and drape it over her chest.
When she wakes, she's going to be petrified, and I can't wait to make her cry again, this time with her on her knees and my cock deep down her throat.
I stare a few moments longer letting the reality of what I'm doing bleed through my veins. The darkness is my ally, and I know he will keep my secrets.
The door squeaks closed. The clicking of the padlock finalizes her fate. “Sleep, Nightshade. Tomorrow you'll be worn to nothing.”