Page 67 of His Dark Pull

The food remains untouched as he dismisses Mendel with a curt nod, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. His hunger is insatiable, just like mine.

“I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, Ava,”he whispers against my lips, his voice husky. “I want to show you that I’m not the monster you think I am.”

In that moment, I choose to believe him, to embrace the darkness alongside the light. As he lifts me into his arms, I know this is only the beginning.

“Ava,”he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. “I love you more than anything in this world.”

“I love you too, Alexander,”I whisper as I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to him as if he were my lifeline. “Forever.”

He carries me up the grand staircase; his eyes shine with hunger. Reaching the top, he gently sets me down outside the bedroom door.

His hands cup my face, his thumbs brushing away the happy tears that stream down my cheeks.

“I know I’m flawed,”he murmurs. “I don’t know if I’ll ever escape the darkness, Ava. But I’ll try.For you.”

I gaze up at him. He is a beautiful monster, an enigma that has captured my soul.

“I don’t know what will happen tomorrow,”I say. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours, Alexander. Always.”

Alexander’s smile, usually so confident, fades for a moment. He brushes a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle. “There’s something you need to know, Ava. Something I should have told you before.”

“What is it?”

He hesitates, his eyes drifting to the city lights twinkling beyond the windows. “Dexter, Kovacs—they weren’t the only ones. There’s—someone else. Someone who was calling the shots from the shadows. Someone they never caught.”

“Who?”The room feels cold as I shiver.

He turns back to me, his eyes dark and troubled. “They call him The Raven. I don’t know who he is, Ava. But he’s out there. And he knows about you.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. The sense of relief I’d felt moments before, the belief that the nightmare was finally over, shattered.The Raven.The name sent a chill through me.

“What does he want?”My voice trembles.

Alexander shakes his head. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”He takes my hand, his grip tight. “I won’t let him hurt you, Ava. I promise.”

The Raven.

His revelation fuels my fears, but also my passion, as I move towards him. His lips meet mine in a hot kiss, a promise sealed with fire and passion. As we break apart, a glint sparks in his eyes, a flicker of the darkness that both terrifies and entices me.

“There’s just one thing,”he says. “Being mine comes with a price, my Ava.”

He pushes open the bedroom door, revealing a scene that sends my senses into overdrive. In the center of the room, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, lies a brand-new four-poster bed adorned with silken sheets and plush pillows. And on the bed, spread out like an offering, is an exquisite collection of lingerie - lace, silk, leather, each piece more daring than the last.

“Tonight,”he whispers, his voice husky with desire, “you become mine. Completely.”

A thrill of excitement courses through me. This is a surrender, a submission to the darkness that promises both pleasure and pain. But with Alexander, I know I will find ecstasy in the shadows.

And as he leads me towards the bed, his eyes burning with a possessive hunger, I know there is no turning back. I am his, forever bound to the intoxicating world ofAlexander Bourne, a queen in his dark empire of desire.

Epilogue - Broken Chains

I nestle deeper into the plush velvet armchair, the familiar scent of Alexander’s cologne enveloping me. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the mansion’s library, casting shadows across the mahogany bookshelves that line the walls.

It’s been six months since the nightmare at the plantation, six months since Dexter Hawkins and his associates were taken into custody. The scars of that night still linger, etched into my memory like jagged lines on a once-pristine canvas. I’ve been going to therapy, as Harvey suggested, and slowly, I’m learning to navigate the labyrinth of trauma and fear to reclaim my sense of self.

Alexander sits opposite me, absorbed in a thick volume on maritime law, his brow furrowed. His once-manicured appearance has softened, his dark hair is longer, andhis features less severe. The community service he’s been sentenced to seems to have humbled him, grounding him in a reality beyond the gilded walls of his world.

The news plays softly on the television in the corner, a constant stream of headlines and sound bites that often serve as background noise to our quiet evenings. I’ve grown accustomed to the rhythmic cadence of the newscaster’s voice and the ebb and flow of current events.

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