Page 25 of Ruthless Desire

"Don't touch me," she hisses, but there's a tremor in her voice that betrays her.

I laugh, low and dark. "Oh, moy voron. I'll do far more than touch you before the night is through."

I drag her from the car, drinking in every detail of her struggle. The way her chest heaves with panicked breaths, the flash of defiance in those stormy eyes. She's exquisite in her fear, a masterpiece of light and shadow.

Alonzo appears at my side, silent and efficient as always. I nod towards the trunk. "Bring her things. And make sure everything is prepared as I instructed."

"Yes, boss," he rumbles, moving to obey without question. Good dog.

I turn my attention back to my prize, guiding her up the sweeping stairs with inexorable force. She stumbles, cursing under her breath, and I use the opportunity to pull her flush against me.

"Careful, Natalie," I purr into her ear. "I'd hate for you to hurt yourself before we've even begun our fun."

"Fuck you," she spits, but I can feel the way she trembles against me. The way her body betrays her, even as her mind rebels.

"All in good time, my love. All in good time."

The massive oak doors swing open at our approach, silent on well-oiled hinges. The grand foyer stretches before us, a cathedral to excess and sin. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across marble floors, while priceless art adorns every wall.

Natalie gasps, momentarily forgetting her fear as she takes it all in. I watch her face hungrily, savoring every flicker of emotion that crosses those delicate features. Awe, envy, a grudging appreciation for the beauty surrounding her.

"Do you like it?" I ask, leading her deeper into the belly of the beast. "I had it all designed with you in mind, you know. Every painting, every sculpture... a tribute to my unholy grail."

She tries to wrench away, her nails raking down my arm. "You're insane," she snarls. "I'm not some fucking collectible for you to hoard!"

I capture her wrist, squeezing until I feel the delicate bones grind together. She whimpers, music to my ears.

"No," I agree, my voice is a silken threat. "You're so much more than that. You're the missing piece, Natalie. The dark queen to rule at my side."

Before she can retort, I sweep her off her feet. She yelps, arms instinctively wrapping around my neck as I carry her bridal-style up the grand staircase.

"Put me down!" she demands, struggling in my arms. But it's useless. She's a butterfly caught in a spider's web, fragile wings beating against unbreakable silk.

"Now, now," I chide, my grip tightening. "Is that any way to treat your gracious host? I'm simply giving you the tour you deserve."

We reach the second floor, a labyrinth of hallways stretching in every direction. I carry her past door after door, each one hiding its own secrets, its own potential torments and delights.

"This wing is yours," I explain, nodding towards a series of rooms. "You'll have free rein here. The library, the music room, your studio..." I pause, savoring the way her breath catches at that last one. "Oh yes, tiny paintbrush. I know how much your art means to you. I'd never dream of taking that away."

"How generous," she bites out, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. But I can see the hunger in her eyes, the way she drinks in every detail of her gilded cage.

I come to a stop before a set of imposing double doors at the end of the hall. "And this," I say, shifting her weight to free one hand, "is where the real fun begins."

The doors swing open at my touch, revealing a bedroom fit for a king. Or a captive princess.

Natalie's eyes go wide as I carry her across the threshold. The room is draped in crimson and gold, from the silk sheets on the massive four-poster bed to the plush carpets underfoot. A fire crackles in the marble fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the walls.

I set her down gently, but keep my arms locked around her waist. She's rigid in my embrace, a bowstring pulled taut and ready to snap.

"What do you think?" I murmur, nuzzling the soft skin behind her ear. "Is it everything you've ever dreamed of?"

She shudders, trying to pull away. "It's a nightmare," she whispers. "You're a nightmare."

I laugh, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "Oh, my darling girl. I'm the best nightmare you'll ever have."

In one fluid motion, I spin her to face me. One hand tangles in her hair, yanking her head back to expose the graceful column of her throat. The other slides down to grip her hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

"Look at me," I command, waiting until those storm-gray eyes meet mine. "You can fight this all you want, Natalie. You can rage and scream and claw at the walls until your fingers bleed. But in the end, you'll surrender. You'll beg for my touch, plead for the exquisite torment only I can give you."

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