Page 29 of Lord of Punishment

Sabatino

There was no reason that out of all the thoughts that could have run through my mind I remembered a quote, but that’s exactly what had occurred only moments before. While the sentiment was startling given my memories were fleeting, barely providing any information, what troubled me even more was that I definitely had nothing to lose.

Did that make me a heinous beast?

I pressed my hands on the bathroom counter, staring at the man in the mirror, someone I only vaguely recognized. Dark hair. Obsidian eyes. Two scars that appeared to be from bullets. Even slight graying at my temples. And the ferocious work of art extending from my neck, along my arm, the bulk positioned on my upper shoulder and chest meant nothing. Not a goddamn thing.

Max remained in the doorway, staring at me intently. Why did I have the feeling that if the dog could talk, he’d have the ability to tell me who I was? It was also obvious to me I adored animals, or at least I wasn’t cruel to them as I was to humans. At least according to the single vivid memory I’d experienced so far.

“What do you think, buddy? Are these clothes me?”

His whine made me laugh.

“No, I didn’t think so.”

He seemed to grow bored, trotting away as if he had nothing to worry about. I only hoped that was the case.

The tough pads of my fingers felt almost nothing when I touched the scars, trying desperately to remember the man I’d been. What I knew instinctively was that I loathed being out of control. The feeling was innate, as primal as the ravaging hunger that had spread through me regarding the stunning woman who’d pulled me from the water.

Maybe the fact she bore her own battle scars had provided a level of kinship, which could be part of the reason for the attraction I continued to feel. After taking a deep breath, I grabbed one of the polo shirts Georgia had purchased for me. While it was perfectly fine in its cheap, thin material, a perfect addition to the nameless jeans she’d also bought, my gut told me that I’d never wear something like this in my alternate life.

The realization was as disturbing as everything else. At least I had clean, dry clothes, her generosity affording me three basic sets of clothing, including underwear and the cheapest boat shoes I’d ever seen in my life.

I had to give the woman credit. She’d deftly figured out my size.

The look would need to do. For now.

After turning out the bathroom light, I headed to the third bedroom, the small location used as her office. She barely had room for a computer desk and chair, a single file cabinet and a bookshelf. As I stood in front of the cheap white melamine piece of furniture, it was impossible not to smile from learning her author name. Misty Blake. It was romantic in a way, although I did love her real name more.

She was prolific, at least according to the number of books on the shelves. Fifty if not more.

As I pulled one into my hand, flipping the pages, I was immediately driven to a full state of arousal, my cock pressing against the stiff denim in such a way my balls ached.

He was without a doubt the most gorgeous bad man I’d ever encountered, his carved muscles covered in exquisite ink. His Russian accent was far too tempting, my pussy throbbing in anticipation of what my captor could do.

I’d wanted to hate him for what he’d done to me, taking me away from everything I knew and loved, but both his protectiveness and his desire to possess me forever was a powerful draw.

“Come to me, princess. Come and suck my cock. I need to use that caustic mouth of yours. From here on out, you belong to me. Your mouth. Your breasts. Your sweet pussy. All mine. And if anyone ever tries to take you away or lay a single finger on you again, they will face the kind of wrath no man can survive.”

He beckoned me with a single finger and immediately a shiver coursed down my spine.

The moment of seduction filled the pages, the entire chapter ripe with passion and darkness. I was forced to adjust my aching cock, already hating the attire I had no choice but to wear.

The woman had a wicked mind, but I sensed the only way she’d been able to fulfill her obvious dark fantasies had been through her writing. My thoughts drifted once again to the scar and as I’d done the moment I’d realized she’d been scarred on purpose, I felt rage settle into my system. It would seem I was indeed a possessive man. After replacing the book in the exact position, I eased into the hallway. The only place left to search was her bedroom.

Snooping seemed too invasive, but I was certain she’d hidden away something that would allow me to discover what she was running from. I’d already gone through the bookshelf in the living room, even the kitchen drawers, finding nothing more than typical items that anyone would own.

Her computer hadn’t gone to sleep, which was a huge no-no for a bastard like me. That was simply something else I knew by instinct. Her trust in her systems had allowed me to search all her computer files. Sadly, to no avail, at least with regards to her personal life. I’d been able to determine she had two bank accounts, but there hadn’t been any time to attempt to crack her personal passcodes.

Laughing, I also knew that was part of my skillset. What the hell was there? Weapons? Cracking computers?

Killing people?

I headed toward her bedroom, standing in the doorway for a full minute.

I moved to her nightstand, carefully opening the single drawer. Other than a dog-eared paperback romance novel, some tissues, and the remote for the small flat-screen television, there was nothing of real interest.

Her dresser was surprisingly light with clothes: a few sweaters and tee shirts, four pairs of jeans and some shorts. None of them were pricy or had a designer label. The cheap clothes weren’t worthy of her beauty or grace. If she were mine, I’d ensure she was clothed in only the finest attire from luxury stores, including those in Paris and Milan.

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