Page 27 of Ruthless Desire

"Perhaps," I concede. "But then, aren't all the best artists a little mad? You and I, my beautiful nightmare - we're cut from the same cloth. Drenched in sin and slithering shadows, creating beauty from the ashes of our broken minds."

I see it then - a flicker of recognition in those stormy eyes. A moment of connection that she tries desperately to smother.

"I'm nothing like you," she insists, but the words lack conviction.

I smile, knowing I've struck a nerve. "Aren't you? Tell me, Natalie - where do you think your art comes from? That raw, bleeding emotion you pour onto canvas... it's not so different from the blood I spill."

She shakes her head violently. "No. You're a monster. A killer."

"And you're a creator," I counter. "Yin and Yang, my dark muse. Destruction and rebirth, forever entwined."

I release her then, sitting back on my heels. She scrambles away, pressing herself against the headboard. But Natalie doesn't run. Doesn't scream. She watches me warily, like a mouse hypnotized by a cobra.

"I'll draw you a bath," I say, my tone casual as if we were discussing the weather. "You must be exhausted after your... eventful day."

Her brow furrows in confusion at this sudden shift. "I... what?"

I stand, straightening my rumpled shirt. "A bath, moy voron. To wash away the dirt of the outside world. To prepare you for your new life here."

"I told you," she says, but her voice lacks its earlier venom. "I'm not staying. I won't be a part of your sick fantasy."

I pause at the bathroom door, glancing back at her with a smile that's all teeth and dark promises. "Oh, but you will. You can fight it all you want, deny it until you're blue in the face. But in the end, you'll see. This is where you belong. With me."

I leave her there, trembling and defiant on the silk sheets. As I run the bath, adding oils that will seep into her skin and mark her with my scent, I allow myself a moment of pure, vicious satisfaction.

This... this is a promising start. She's angry, she's scared, but beneath it all, there's a spark of dark curiosity. A hunger she can't quite hide.

And I intend to fan that spark into an inferno that will consume us both.

The bathroom fills with fragrant steam as I return to the bedroom. Natalie hasn't moved, still pressed against the headboard like a cornered animal. Her eyes dart between me and the open door, calculating her chances of escape.

"Bath time," I purr, stalking towards her with predatory grace.

Natalie's eyes flash, storm clouds ready to unleash hell. "Go fuck yourself, Dante."

I chuckle, the sound low and dangerous. "Oh, I'd much rather fuck you."

Before she can react, I'm on her. One arm loops around her waist, the other under her knees. She shrieks, fists pounding against my chest as I lift her effortlessly.

"Put me down, you neanderthal!" she snarls.

I smile, teeth gleaming. "As you wish."

With that, I dump her unceremoniously into the tub, designer clothes and all. She comes up spluttering, hair plastered to her face, looking like a furious, waterlogged kitten.

"You absolute bastard!" she gasps, wiping water from her eyes.

I drink in the sight of her, clothes clinging to every luscious curve. My cock twitches, straining against my zipper.

"Now, now," I tsk, crouching beside the tub. "Is that any way to thank me for my hospitality?"

She reaches forward, trying to grab me, but I dance out of reach. Water sloshes over the rim, soaking the marble floor.

"I'll show you hospitality," she growls, struggling to stand in the slippery tub. Her wet clothes cling to every curve, leaving little to the imagination. My mouth goes dry at the sight.

"Careful, darling," I warn, voice rougher than I intend. "You wouldn't want to slip and hurt yourself."

As if on cue, her foot slides out from under her. I move without thinking, catching her before she can crack her head on the porcelain.

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