Chapter 11
Aurora
I wake up alone in a huge unfamiliar bed. The morning sun hits my eyes through thin curtains. I’m wearing nothing except the gold leather choker, cold against my neck. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a thought flickers: that brunette, Chloe, must be absolutely seething with envy right now.
My hand slides between my thighs—the dull, aching pain still pulses there, an echo of Desire’s brutal penetration. Inside, I’m dry, no traces of his cum on my skin. So he wiped me clean, took care of me, undressed me, put me to bed …, and left. Why didn’t he stay?
I sigh heavily, drowning in conflicting feelings.
Despite his own words, Desire punished me with an orgasm—a wild one, generously laced with terror and sharp pain.
Just thinking about what I experienced sends goosebumps over my skin, and my nipples harden.
I wish I’d never experienced anything like this, because now I can’t forget it.
Fuck, why did this happen to me? The worst part is, I can’t even be angry at him.
I provoked a killer. Damn it! That sadist was right: I never should have gone to Savannah.
Showing up at a gathering of mafiosos and killers, and in a gray collar, was the height of recklessness.
What the hell was I thinking? Like I don’t know what he does?
Aurora, hello! Desire Sterling kills people!
I sit up with difficulty, staring blankly at the fence outside the window.
Then I force myself to stand. A silk robe hangs on the door handle—I wrap myself in it, hiding my knees scraped raw from the hard tiles.
My legs are still trembling. I wobble out of the bedroom and into a spacious living room.
Desire sits on the couch wearing his baggy black Prince Harming suit but without the mask or gloves, scrolling through his phone.
“Desire—”
“Morning, Princess,” he tosses out, barely glancing at me, and nods toward the hallway. “Shower’s that way.”
I freeze. “Last night you said we were at your place.”
My gaze snags on the panoramic window leading to a large enclosure. Right in the middle of the house, there’s an interior courtyard where a lion lives. The layout is unusual: the house seems small, but it’s built to wrap around this wild oasis.
“Yeah. Right now, it’s just us, Zeus, and his lionesses.” He nods.
“Where’s my dress?”
“Disposed of.” The sadist smiles. I clench my fists. “Your temporary clothes are on the chair in the bedroom.”
“Are you done punishing me?” I ask, lifting my chin. If it’s all over, I’d better get out of here as soon as possible.
“Yeah, but we’re not finished with our interrupted conversation.”
I swallow. The conversation about who put the gray collar on me. Fucking Zack. Will there be another death on my conscience? Last night, Desire made it clear he was going to kill that gray-haired man because of me.
It becomes unbearable to look into his eyes, so I escape to the bathroom. I remove the choker from my neck and toss it onto the vanity. I need to wash up quickly and get away from this killer. Run while I can still think clearly.
Once I’m under the stream of water, I freeze. I press my palms against the cool tile and drop my head. My wet hair sticks to my neck and chest like a heavy web. A brutal emotional crash from everything that happened washes over me.
I feel his presence at my back and hear the rustle of discarded clothes, then the shower stall grows cramped as he appears behind me. I don’t lift my head or pull away when his large hands land on my shoulders, stroking my wet skin.
“My princess,” he whispers.
I sob and press my ass toward him. His hands slide lower, through the stream of water, caressing my stomach and breasts. I turn around, finally lifting my eyes to his. Hot tears stream down my face, mingling with the water.
“I’m sorry I came to Savannah.”
“I know,” he mutters, wiping the tears from my cheek with his thumb.
“Can you not kill because of me?” I whisper with trembling lips.
Now that this insane, fireworks-filled night is behind us and we’ve slowed down, his words from last night hit me with renewed force.
“No, Rory.” He shakes his head. “I need to save your life.”
Desire pulls me to him, holding me tightly, and I go limp against his chest.
“No one dares to harm my princess. I will protect you.”
No one has ever said such words to me before. I sob again, burying myself in him.
If he hadn’t taken me away from Savannah, I might have been dead by now. Those men in suits smelled of danger, especially the gray-haired one with the fierce gaze directed at me.
“You have nothing to thank me for.” His smile suddenly turns sad. “Being my princess is painful.”
He’s always honest with me. Brutally honest. I want to match it.
“This pain brings me pleasure.” I smile through my tears.
I trace the rough scars on his chest with my fingertips, and with the other hand, I squeeze his already hard, throbbing cock. It seems Desire always wants me, and I always want him.
He grabs me by the buttocks and impales me on his dick in one sharp motion. He goes deep, all the way to the base, and the echoes of yesterday’s crazy orgasm flare in my lower abdomen.
“Yeah, fuck me, yeah …” I gasp, grabbing his hair and yanking.
He presses my back into the wall and bites into my neck. This pain is sweet and pleasant. Desire torments me in every way, physically and mentally. And he’s damn good at it.
“You fucking belong to me,” he growls, thrusting into me with renewed vigor.
“To you …”
I come with a cry, and a second later, a hot geyser releases inside me.
After emptying himself, he washes my body, tenderly moving between my thighs to clean away the traces of our madness, then helps me dry off.
I glance at the bathroom window. The sun is already high.
I’ve missed my chance to leave for my parents’ place, but honestly, I could just go tomorrow.
Skip a few classes—it’s not like it matters.
My studies at Stonehaven, like most rich kids’, are pointless.
My parents sent me there to keep me busy.
It seems like my life never really mattered to anyone …
except Desire. No one has ever paid me this kind of attention.
Yes, Desire terrifies me. Yes, he controls my every breath, but no matter how clearly I realize how abnormal all this is, it feels like exactly what I need.
“Can I stay longer?” I murmur.
“As long as you want, Princess.” A slight smile appears on his lips.
Back in the bedroom, he lies on the bed on his back. I crawl up to him—naked, my hair still damp from the shower and clinging to my skin. I press myself against his hot body, and his strong arms wrap around me, bringing me even closer.
He holds me, but I feel with my skin that he’s waiting. I don’t want to be a liar. Desire is honest with me, and I should be honest too, since I promised to tell him.
“It was Zack’s collar.”
“Why did he dare to put that trash on you?” Desire growls, pushing my wet hair back from my face to look me straight in the eyes. “When? Where?”
“At the university. Right after I saw Chloe in the gold choker. My choker,” I add, and the thought makes my heart race. “He also put his own on me—the brown one—but I took that one off.”
“What else did Zack do?” Desire’s voice vibrates.
I sigh. “He said … his father knew I was a whore, and that’s why he chose me.”
“Bastard,” Desire spits.
“If I mean anything to you—anything at all—don’t hurt him anymore … and don’t kill him,” I blurt out in one breath.
“Aurora …”
“I don’t want to be your muse for cruelty.” I prop myself up and look straight into his furious, darkened eyes, licking my lips. “You can fuck me, scare me with your lion, spread me out over a whole club, but I don’t want to be the reason for your brutality.”
He falls silent, staring at me with a heavy, unwavering gaze. “I won’t kill Zack as long as he isn’t a danger to you,” he says, running his palm over my hair.
My heart stops from relief.
“Why did you want to become my toy, Princess?” A ruthless honesty rings in his words. Not his girl, but his toy. But I’m fine with him not wearing any masks except his white-and-gold one.
Biting my lower lip, I mutter, “The pills made my body feel dead. I could barely feel alive. I only had nightmares. No one around me really cared what was going on inside me. But with you …, I felt what it was like to be wanted.”
My face burns. Desire nods, hauling me tightly against his chest.
“That’s something I can always give you.”
Always? Did he say always? It’s probably just a figure of speech—he didn’t think about what he was saying. But my thighs still clench with a shiver.