Chapter 2
Aurora
Now
The moans ahead grow louder, escalating into incoherent cries.
“Zack …,” I whisper, stepping into the light then freezing in the doorway.
The words lodge in my throat. The tangy smell of sweaty bodies hits me in the face.
I stare at the girl with cheap red-dyed hair—the one my boyfriend is climbing off of on the far side of the bed, his back to me.
The naked girl falls face-first into the pillows.
Her eyes are rolled back, her face puffy and vacant—she’s clearly high.
I’ve never tried drugs, but in Netflix shows, junkies look exactly like that.
On the nightstand sit a battery of whiskey bottles, some already empty, an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, and a scattered white line of powder.
“Fuck, who else …?” A naked Zack glances back and lifts his clouded eyes to me. He doesn’t look at my face but stares at my breasts hugged tight by my dress. “What the hell?! I only ordered one for tonight.”
For tonight?! His words hit harder than any slap.
It’s not even that he was sneaking around hotels while I was guarding my stupid innocence.
It’s how low I’ve sunk. He chained me to the radiator, aimed the gun at my head, choked me with the chain in the woods—and I let this sick bastard become my only compass.
Dozens of normal guys approached me, but their advances only made me sick.
I brushed them all off. I thought Zack and I shared some dark exclusive bond, yet all this time, he was running up his score.
He probably invited me here to show off his achievements.
“Aurora?” He finally recognizes me, drunken confusion in his voice. He’s still staring at my dress, exposing so much bare skin. “No way … I had too much …”
“And I finally got sober,” I say, everything inside me burning to ash.
“Shit …” Realization dawns on his sweaty face. “Aurora …”
“It’s over, Zack,” I toss out. Tears ruin my thick eyeliner, but I force myself to smile—wide enough that it hurts my muscles. “Enjoy yourself, player.”
I spin and bolt into the hallway. My heels wobble beneath me. I’m almost running, listening to see if he’s coming after me. Silence. Fuck him.
I burst into the elevator. An elderly couple stands there, gawking at my wrecked makeup and the dress barely covering my thighs, disgust in their eyes. They’ve definitely mistaken me for a cheap hookup who got kicked out without getting paid.
“I’m a virgin!” I spit at them, and dash out as the doors slide open. I run, stumbling down the wide hotel steps and into the cold night.
Outside, I gasp in the freezing air, still shaking.
The neon-drenched city feels hostile. It’s not about Zack anymore.
It’s about the dangers I’m surrounded by—the ones he could never protect me from.
I’ve been lying to myself. I push away the thought of how many people are being raped or murdered in dark alleys at this very moment.
With trembling fingers, I try to call an Uber, but an engine roars behind me. A gold Maserati with a crimson crown on the hood swerves toward the curb. I gasp and jump back as the car screeches to a halt inches from my knees.
The driver’s door swings up like the wing of a predator bird.
Desire steps out of the car with a lazy stride. His eyes burn in the darkness like two torches as he slowly—almost palpably—scans my cleavage.
“Desire?” I breathe out in horror.
“Get in the car,” he commands—no request in his voice, only absolute authority.
“I thought you told me not to even touch it,” I snap, remembering his words from the university parking lot. The car was different back then, but what does it matter?
What is he even doing here? Fucking hookers too? This whole hotel reeked of them.
Desire closes the distance between us in a single step. I freeze, paralyzed, as his massive hands grab my hair and sweep it over my shoulders.
“This doesn’t look anything like a chain.”
With one swift motion, he rips the lace choker from my neck and tosses it aside like garbage.
I gasp, caught off guard. Fear hardens my nipples, scraping against the thin silk of my dress—I’m not wearing a bra underneath.
Before I can pull away, his muscular arm wraps around my waist, jerking me back against his hot, solid body.
He turns toward the car, dragging me with him.
One of his palms settles on my neck, nearly covering my throat, forcing my head back; the other drops to my stomach, bunching the fabric of my dress and sending a slow, molten heat pooling there.
The paralysis finally breaks.
“Screw you and your whores!” I snarl, trying to throw off his iron grip.
“Don’t confuse me with Zack, Princess. I don’t need whores,” he growls into my ear, and goosebumps race down my skin.
Princess. The same name my nightmare in the woods did. Though, the newspapers did plaster that nickname all over me.
“Sir! Miss! Is everything all right?” the doorman calls out as he rushes toward the commotion.
Desire doesn’t even look back. Without loosening his grip on my neck, he bends me over the open car door. I cry out. The dangerously short fabric of my dress hikes up, baring my underwear. My thighs clench, and a heavy, throbbing pulse builds low in my belly.
I try to kick, but Desire is standing too close.
“Miss! Is everything okay?” The doorman senses something is out of line, but Desire blocks his view of me with his massive frame.
I turn my head to see through my tangled hair, and Desire is glaring at the doorman.
“Mr. Sterling?” The man stammers, recognition dawning. “I’m so sorry, I thought … I won’t intrude.”
Just like that, he disappears through the revolving doors.
“Hurry up, Princess.” Desire releases me, and I lean against his car, glancing over my shoulder. The unfamiliar emptiness on my neck is deceptive—he’s blocking the way. There’s no escape.
“Why are you here?”
“I’m giving you a ride.”
I try to straighten, but his gaze is crushing.
“You seem to visit this hotel often if the doorman knows you.”
“The staff tonight was simply briefed on who I was.” He smirks.
Tonight? Has he been following me and cleared the path of obstacles? But the head of the Kingdom must have better things to do.
“Briefed by whom? Your entourage?”
“Get in, Princess.” He doesn’t take the bait, his voice steady. “Zack doesn’t give a damn about you. You need to move on.”
“In your car?”
“Shhhh.” His index finger presses against my lips, cutting off my protest, and something ignites inside me. I want that hand back on my throat. “Does it matter what you ride in? What matters is who you’re with.”
He’s right. I’m alone. I’ve always been alone—I used to be good at lying to myself in the mirror.
I’m not stupid. I know exactly how this ride will end, but right now, it feels like a hell of a good idea.
Why not? While Zack is upstairs sweating over some whore with fake hair, I don’t want to go home and cry into my pillow.
I get into the car.
Desire walks around the hood and slides into the driver’s seat. The predator-wing doors close, sealing us off from the dark night.
“Good princess.” He smirks.
The words echo in my ears, distorted by the voice modulator.
For a moment, I sink back into that fairy-tale nightmare.
I only come back to myself when Desire leans over to fasten my seatbelt.
His body radiates warmth. The gesture seems almost gentle—so at odds with his dangerous aura.
He places his palms on the steering wheel, light and tender, as if caressing a woman, and we pull away.
“What made you think Zack doesn’t give a damn about me?” Desire wasn’t there to see what happened in that hotel room five minutes ago.
The engine roars, and I flinch as the car surges forward, pressing me into my seat. Is that his reaction to my question? His hands on the wheel remain calm, but his eyes—fixed on the road—are once again full of barely contained fire.
We tear out of the city.
“Where are we going?” Glancing at the highway leading out of town, I realize I never even gave him my address. It seems Desire doesn’t need it. The head of the Kingdom is driving me God knows where, the pedal to the metal.
He lifts his right hand and brushes my hair away from my smeared-with-smudged-mascara face.
“Such beautiful hair shouldn’t get dirty.”
My breath hitches. I feel like I’m about to pass out—Prince Harming appears before my eyes again.
“Oh my God …”
“Hardly.” Desire smirks.
Without asking, his free hand drops to my bare thigh. My heart races as his strong fingers journey toward the hem of my dress. I swallow; my muscles tense, and he slips his hand beneath the fabric, going higher. This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Aurora? An adventure? To forget?
Yes.
Desire clearly knows how to handle his toys.
His fingers slide under my panties, tracing along my folds. The weight of his hand presses my thighs apart, and he whispers, “You’re soaked, Princess. I’m dying to taste you.”
“Why … why do you call me the same he did?” I arch my back; my breasts heave, pressing against the seatbelt. If he says it’s because of the newspapers, I’ll hate him.
“Same as who?” He pulls the edge of my underwear aside and thrusts a finger deep inside me.
The night outside blurs into a dark smear. God, how fast is he driving?
“A-a-ah … like my … like my Prince Harming … like Zack …”
“Like who, the fuck?!” he snarls.
I flinch, but he slips a second finger into my cunt, pressing me into the seat, and a hot wave washes over me.
“Answer me when I ask,” he demands, turning to face me for a brief, terrifying moment. His snarl is genuinely ferocious, but the fingers moving inside me are lethally skilled and fast like a virtuoso pianist’s.
“A man who saved me,” I gasp, and my pussy responds to his touch with a fresh wave of wetness, dripping onto his hard palm. “He was cruel and … awesome.”