Page 1 of Red Velvet

Prologue

Lila

He says he wants to break me.

I don't even know what that means.

Why would anyone want to be broken? Why does my heart jump at the words as if they were a promise and not a threat?

How did I end up here? On my knees, naked, with my hands tied at my back, trembling as I tilt my head up to him, seeking his unyielding gaze through watery eyes. Crusts of salt adorn my face, covering black streaks of ruined mascara that once thickened my lashes, while I wait for the next bite into my tortured skin.

No, I'm not just waiting for it.

I'mbeggingfor it.

That's how I ended up here. I pleaded to be here. With him, a man who is too handsome to be real, too rich and powerful to fear anything or anyone, too strong to resist his demands—and too cruel to be loved.

Or so he wants me to believe.

His black eyes narrow and a crease appears between his eyebrows as he locks me into place. Just by looking at me like that, with that savage expression on his face, his gaze burning with hunger for me and a lust to hear me scream in agony.

He wants to hurt me. Bad.

His chiseled chest heaves in rapid beats while beads of sweat pearl down the valley of his muscles. Tanned skin stretches over his sculptured body, unscathed and perfect, kissed with nothing but the salty droplets that speak of his erotic exertion.

He is painfully beautiful, and the cane in his hand only amplifies that impression.

"How many?"

His voice is deep and hoarse, sounding tortured even though he's the one inflicting pain. A threatening flicker in his sinister eyes urges me to reply.

"Nine," I croak. "Nine, sir."

His left eyebrow arches, an expression underlined with surprise and a warning. There's always a warning.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“Don't ask for things you can’t handle.”

“Because I will ruin you, if you let me.”

I've heard all of these warnings, and I’ve ignored every single one of them.

I flinch when his arm rises, the cane dangling in front of my face as if he’s introducing us to each other. The stick will cut into my skin with every hot strike. It’ll leave marks. It may even draw blood.

I'm sure it’ll draw blood this time, because I'm asking for it. I just asked for nine strikes, nine agonizing bolts of fire that he’ll unleash on my sore skin. That's more than I’ve ever taken, more than I know I can handle.

"Show me how much you want it."

He's standing tall before me, holding the cane in a parallel up to my face. Our eyes meet for a split second when I tilt my head, seeking reassurance from him before I lower my gaze to the task at hand. Fear and strong desire blend at the sight of the discipline rod, the promise for a hard-earned paradise resonating with it.

I can't wait to get there.

But I'm also terrified of the path I'll have to take.

I lean forward, brushing the cane with my lips as I grant it a gentle peck.

Hello, cane. My name is Lila.

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