Page 32 of Unleashed

“Your bath is ready. Come here.”

Chapter 10

RAFAIL

I lovethe way her body trembles when I touch her. The way she yields to me, soft and pliant. A surge of primal instinct slices through me. She's not really fighting me anymore. Her defiance crumbles.

She hasn't caved in, not fully, and my instincts rail against me.You fucking know she isn't really your wife.

I logic my way around it. By all intents and purposes, she is. She was given to me. She's my possession. And I will not make any excuses for what I do next because I fucking own this woman.

The difference between her and every other woman I’ve ever touched demands a different approach. I feel something deeper, something that claws at the edges of my control and makes me want to fucking ravish her. A primal part of me wants to please her, to see her lips part as she screams in pleasure. Somehow, that would be my greatest victory.

So I keep my hands steady as I touch her, relishing the way her skin brushes against mine. When my fingers graze her delicate skin, the warmth of her body sends my senses into overdrive. She's pale, soft, vulnerable. My little swan.

I admire the curve of her waist, the strong column of her neck, her pale porcelain skin. Wide blue eyes framed in thick blonde lashes. There's a little dimple in her chin when she smiles bashfully at me, but right now, she looks as if she's Little Red Riding Hood and I'm the Big Bad Wolf.

Everything about her calls to me, and I know it's not just my imagination the way she responds. Her mind is trapped in confusion, but her body knows exactly what the fuck to do. I can't help but feel twisted pride at that.

She doesn't remember, but her body knows.

Guilt makes me pause, but I quickly bury it because I have needs, too, and logic tells me she belongs to me. I don't want her afraid of me, necessarily, but I can't relinquish all my power. Not now. Not ever. Weakness gets you fucking killed. I've seen too much, lost too much to give in to weakness now. But something tells me she is my kryptonite.

Her eyes meet mine as I guide her to her bath, the raw fear in them whispering a plea.Don’t hurt me.

I’ll make no promises. I can’t.

As I pull her closer to me, the scent of her arousal, sweet and seductive, fills the air. I take in deep, cleansing breaths, wholly unfamiliar to me. Steadying. When she looks up at me with those wide, blue eyes, her body slightly trembling, I know she isn't just afraid. There’s more to it.

"Beautiful," I whisper, my voice thick with desire. I brush my knuckles against her cheek, and she shivers. I enjoy the way her skin flushes under my touch. My little swan is fragile, and yet… There's strength there, buried in the confusion in her eyes. This is a woman who ran from me, now dependent on a stranger.

She doesn't know her own strength, not yet. It's almost laughable that she, of all people—the one who's my victim, my possession—is the only one with the strength to fucking challenge me, and here she is… dependent.

She's mine now though. She was before, and she is now. No one will ever touch her. No one else will ever know her. No one else will even breathe the fucking air she does. She's clean, a blank slate, and I have a new chance. When she spares me a look, my hands tighten on her hips.

I've been almost gentle until now, but I’ve exercised virtually all my self-control. I want her to trust me, to look to me not just as a man but as her protector. The idea of her running again fills me with undeniable rage.

No one deserves her but me.

Steam rises in the air from the drawn bath behind us as I lean in closer, my lips brushing her ear. "You're mine," I whisper, a statement and a declaration. Her breath hitches, her eyes meeting mine. She opens her mouth as if to say something and hesitates, uncertain. I bend my mouth to hers and kiss whatever she was going to say away.

The less said, the better.

I need to erase every trace of doubt from her mind and make sure she knows exactly who she belongs to. My thumb grazesover her collarbone as I kiss her again and again, savoring the way she trembles.

"Trust me," I whisper to her, my voice softer this time, almost pleading. I hate that I'm showing any weakness because I amnotvulnerable, but here I am, raw, exposed. I need her trust, her submission. Maybe more.

She doesn't pull away. I help her out of her bra and panties, then lift her in my arms, careful not to aggravate her injuries. She's light in my hold and fits perfectly against me. As I carry her to the bathroom, toward the waiting tub, my heart clenches. Grounding myself into my new reality.

I lower her into the water, steam curling around her. She won’t slip away from me. Not physically, anyway. Pain is a tool, something to be used when necessary… But not now. Now she needs to be pampered; now she needs to know that she is precious to me. My prized possession. I kneel beside the tub, my fingers trailing through the water, brushing against her skin once. Twice.

My dick aches. Throbs. My jaw clenches. Control. I must maintain control. But it's slipping, little by little, with every look that she gives me, every soft intake of breath. Every time we touch.

"Weakness gets you killed," my uncle told me when I became guardian of my siblings and heir to the throne. "Never let anyone take your power." But I want to protect her. Control her.

She closes her eyes and sinks deeper into the water. It reaches her chin. For one brief moment, I imagine what would happen if she slipped under the edge, sinking into oblivion. I imagine yanking her out of the water, breathing life into her.

What the fuck is going on with me?

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