Page 14 of Emperor of Lust

I grit my teeth, finishing my practice and moving toward the traditional Japanese garden outside my room. Normally, this is my most sacred time—a few minutes of peace, alone with my thoughts in the gentle morning air. I settle cross-legged on the ground and close my eyes, inhaling the earthy scent of the garden, focusing on the breeze whispering against my skin, the faint rustle of leaves.

Breathe, Hana. Focus.

But again, the moment I try to sink into the quiet his face flickers into my mind, vivid and unrelenting. The memory of him towering over me, his eyes fiery with twisted amusement, his fingers brushing my lips as though he owned them.

His thick cock, swollen and urgent as he fucked my willing mouth. As he wrested control from me. As he spilled his cum over my tongue and down my throat.

I shudder, violently ripped from my meditative state as it all comes rushing back. I scowl, gritting my teeth and trying to sink back into relaxation, but I still feel the ropes digging into my skin, remember the way my pulse quickened, each beat reminding me how powerless I’d been beneath his gaze. I clench my hands, desperate to shake the memory, but still it clings to me, taunting me with its intensity.

And don’t get me started on the dream from last night.

I shudder, remembering it in flashes, each one bringing a fresh wave of shame. I was bound again by thick ropes, each loop tightening as though by his own hands. Once again he stood over me, fisting his cock before pushing it past my lips.

But he didn’t stop there. In the dream, he was everywhere, taking every part of me—bound, helpless, and utterly under his control as he used me for his pleasure.

…and, shamefully, formine, too.

I replay the dream fragments: being completely at his mercy, every part of me exposed, vulnerable. His fingers tracing over my skin with a rough, possessive touch that left me breathless. Feeling the heat of his breath, the weight of his body pressing down on me, and hearing his low, taunting voice that sent shivers through me.

The worst part—the part I can’t seem to shake—is that I’dwantedit. In the dream my body responded to him, betraying me with a need I didn’t understand or want to admit. I woke up gasping, heart pounding, skin flushed with an unwelcome heat that remained even as I tried to shake off the remnants of the dream.

With a slickness between my thighs I’m not quite ready to analyze yet.

I open my eyes, my meditative state shattered. A frustrated breath escapes me and I press my palms to my face, trying to block out the memories, the sensations.

What the fuck is wrong with me?I’ve spent my entire life perfecting control—over my mind, my body, my surroundings. And somehow, this man has managed to wreck all of it in a single night.

I rise, my breath shallow as I retreat to my room, needing to wash away this lingering sense of helplessness. I step into my bathroom, stripping off my workout clothes and getting into the shower, letting the hot water pound against my skin. Steam fillsthe space, clouding the mirror, and I close my eyes, hoping the heat will clear my mind of these intrusive thoughts.

But even here, in the sanctuary of my bathroom, he’s with me. I can almost feel his fingers tracing my skin, feel his gaze burning into me, promising things I don’t want to think about andshould notwant.

Don’t think for a moment that this ends here.

His voice had been low, laced with dark satisfaction that sent a thrill through me despite myself. And the fucked-up thing is, the threat has become a prophesy. Damian was right: it didn’t end there.

Not. At. All.

Now, I’m going to beengagedto him. Maybe not for real, and maybe I won’t beactuallymarrying the psychopath. But I will be bound to him.

Caged in with him, with no escape.

I finish my shower and step out, wrapping a towel around myself. Water drips down my back, the air heavy with steam as I swipe a hand across the glass to clear it. My reflection stares back, flushed cheeks, damp hair clinging to my neck, wide eyes haunted. I look…different. Like something beneath the surface has shifted, splintered.

I take deep breath, exhaling the tension as best I can.

This is happening, self. You have to do this.

And it’s true. I do. For my family. For all of it.

I exhale.

Fuck it. What happened, regrettably, happened. But Damian and I are both adults. We did…an adult thing. Yes, it involved me beingtied up. Yes, it felt like borderline blackmail. And yes, he might be…okay, probablyis…an actual psychopath.

So what?

We’re both doing this for our families. Damian might be crazy, but I know from Freya and Annika that he eats, sleeps and breathes loyalty to Kir and the Nikolayev Bratva. Crazy or not, he won’t let what happened last night affect our mutual goal of gaining a foothold in Tokyo.

Right?

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