Page 64 of Ruthless Desire

But I know it won't last. Know that the embers of her defiance still glow, buried deep in the ashes of her psyche. It's only a matter of time before they flare to life again, consuming her in the inferno of her own darkness.

And when that day comes, when she rises from the flames like a phoenix of shadow and sin...

I will be there to clip her wings anew. To cage her in my embrace and never let her fly free again.

As we pull away from the scene, leaving behind a wake of flashing lights and confused officers, I can't help but smile. Everything is proceeding exactly as I've orchestrated. Natalie's little escape attempt was just another move on the chessboard, one I'd anticipated and planned for long ago.

"You know," I muse, idly stroking her hair, "I almost wish you'd gotten further. It would have been amusing to watch you fumble about in a world you no longer understand, a world that has long since moved on without you."

Natalie jerks away from my touch, pressing herself against the car door as if she could melt through it. "You're a monster," she spits, her voice trembling with equal parts rage and fear.

I laugh, the sound rich and dark in the confines of the car. "Oh, moy voron. I'm so much worse than that. I'm the thing monsters have nightmares about."

Her eyes widen, a fresh wave of terror washing over her features. Good. Let her be afraid. Let her understand the depths of my power, the futility of her resistance.

"But don't worry," I continue, reaching out to trace the curve of her cheek. She flinches but doesn't pull away. Can't pull away. "You're safe from the other monsters out there. As long as you're mine, nothing and no one will ever harm you."

"Except you," she whispers, the words barely audible.

I smile, slow and predatory. "Except me," I agree. "But then, what's a little pain between lovers? A small price to pay for the pleasure I can give you, the heights I can take you to."

The rest of the ride passes in tense silence, Natalie huddled in her corner while I watch her, drinking in every minute reaction, every tremor and twitch. By the time we reach the penthouse, she's wound so tight I half expect her to shatter at my touch.

I lead her inside, my hand firm on the small of her back. She stumbles slightly, fatigue and fear making her clumsy. I catch her easily, using the momentum to pull her flush against me.

"Careful, now," I murmur, my lips brushing her temple. "I'd hate for you to hurt yourself. At least, not before I've had my fun."

A whimper escapes her, low and broken. It sends a jolt of arousal straight to my core.

I guide her to the bedroom, the scene of so many of our dark tangos. She balks on the threshold, a cry catching in her throat, but I simply tighten my grip and propel her forward.

"Strip," I order, my voice cold and clipped. "Down to your skin. I want to see you, all of you, as I mete out your penance."

She blanches, her arms coming up to wrap around her torso in a futile gesture of modesty. "No," she whispers, shaking her head. "Please, Dante. Haven't I been through enough? Can't you just-"

"Enough?" I cut her off with a bark of humorless laughter. "Oh, solnyshko. You haven't even begun to touch on the depths of what I can inflict upon you. What I will inflict, should you continue to defy me."

I step closer, crowding into her space until she's forced to crane her neck back to meet my gaze.

"You're not the one who makes demands here, little girl. Not anymore. You lost that right the moment you spat on my generosity." I trail a finger down the side of her face, the gesture a mockery of tenderness.

"Now, you are nothing more than a plaything. A pretty doll for me to dress up and pose as I please. And if I want to see you bare and broken before me... well. We both know you no longer have the power to refuse me."

I watch as the last vestiges of hope drain from her eyes, replaced by a dull resignation that's almost as sweet as her defiance. Almost.

Slowly, with trembling hands, she begins to undress. Each inch of skin revealed is a victory, a step closer to her total submission. By the time she stands naked before me, her arms crossed in a pitiful attempt at modesty, I'm hard as steel, my blood singing with dark desire.

"Beautiful," I breathe, circling her like a wolf sizing up its prey.

I move to the chest at the foot of the bed, the one that holds all my favorite toys. The implements of pleasure and pain that will reshape Natalie into my perfect companion, my dark queen.

When I turn back, a length of crimson rope coiled in my hands, her eyes go wide with panic.

"No," she gasps, backing away. "No, please, I can't-"

I'm on her in an instant, spinning her around and pinning her against my chest. "Shh," I soothe, even as I begin to weave the rope around her wrists. "Don't fight it, solnyshko. You'll only make it harder on yourself."

She struggles weakly, but it's no use. In minutes, I have her trussed up like the work of art she is, her arms bound behind her back, legs spread and secured to cleverly hidden anchor points.

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