Page 97 of Tyrant

“Hey, if he’s going to lose his edge, someone should say something to Luc,” Demo says.

I spin and grab Demo by his shirt and drive him back against the old stone wall. Demo flexes and growls, grabbing at me, turning us so I’m slammed against the wall. Christ, Demo is the size of a semi-truck. I grit my teeth and push back at him.

“Hey, fucking cut that out,” Vic says, pushing his way between us. “First off, we’re not telling Luc a fucking thing. At least not right now. If Peri can’t get his shit together soon, then we’ll deal with it.”

Demo and I look at each other and nod. That’s as close to an apology either one of us will give out. Things are getting more and more tense around here right now. I’m tied into everything too.

No matter what my fucking heart is trying to do to me, I know the reality of it all. And that’s this—when I’m done breaking Serafina, she’ll have her ceremony and be passed on to Des. They’ll have their wedding arranged and their marriage planned out and that’s just how life goes.

I need Serafina out of the hospital.

“What are you thinking about right now, Ty?” Vic asks.

“I can’t trust Peri with this but I can trust you two. We’re going to have our own private ceremony with Serafina.”

The thought of anyone going near her makes me want toattack. But that’s my issue. My personal problem to deal with.

I’ll have a surprise waiting for my claimed one when she returns home from her hospital stay.

Chapter Thirty-Six

SERAFINA

One thingthat’s occurred to me a few times is that no police or detectives have gotten involved in what happened to me. Even the hospital staff did nothing to contact authorities. It just proves to me that Tyrant and all those around him—they are the authorities. Everything Tyrant has said, suggested and hinted has all been true.

It’s like living in a world that’s really nothing but lies for so long and being ripped from it. And you’re not just gently moved into another kind of life. You’re just placed into it. With a guy like Tyrant as yourace. I think I like that term a lot now.

Ace.

I’m not sure what it truly means to Tyrant or the others, but I know what Tyrant is starting to mean to me. No matter how hard I try to push myself into the reality of violence and murder and scream that Tyrant is a bad person, it’s no use for what the thought of his name or what he does to me does to my heart.

My heart used to race from panic attacks. Now it races from Tyrant. I guess I can call it aTyrant attack. When he’s near me. When he looks at me. When his deep voice talks to me. Not to mention when those huge, strong hands of his touch me. Even when I’m in a hospital bed, looking at my worst, feeling myworst, his two fingers gave me pleasure that I never knew could be true.

The second I think about him touching me, it’s like a waterfall between my legs. I no longer have any control or composure over myself. Any barriers of sexual desire have been destroyed. Fantasies live in the forefront of my mind, ready for more, wanting to be teased, tempted, and pushed harder.

Harder!

Oh, fuck, harder!

I wake to the stroke of someone’s hand against my cheek. I’m out of the hospital, finally. I’m back in Tyrant’s massive bed. I feel warm, safe, and protected. Not to mention I took what felt like the greatest shower of my life. And as I took that shower, Tyrant stood and watched me. He remained fully clothed. I kept looking at him. His gaze alone almost made me orgasm.

I’m resting in his bed, eyes shut, but I open them when I feel that touch against my cheek. When I see the mask hovering over me, I gasp for a breath. My heart doubles in rate. I blink fast.

Without even thinking, right away I reach up and touch the masked man’s chest. I search for Tyrant’s nipple piercing. When I find it, I calm down, but only a little. Tyrant in a mask means something is about to happen.

I sit up in the bed and look up at him. I swallow hard. I find myself nodding, already approving and agreeing to whatever is about to happen. My brain, body and pleasure have been totally rewired by this masked man.

His hand touches my chin. Works its way down to my throat. I hold my head back a little bit more, wanting to feel his grip. Wanting him to grab, squeeze.

Do it! Choke me! Fucking choke me, Tyrant!

His fingers slide to the back of my neck and he pulls. I stand up from the bed. Tyrant grabs my hair, taking a good handful, and we begin to walk toward the bedroom door.

I’m led toward theotherbedroom. The one where I had once been tied to the wall. Tyrant kicks open the door and I see two other men in black robes and masks waiting. On the floor there’s a circle made of lit candles.

Oh, fuck, are they going to… sacrifice me…?

Have I gone from intense pleasure to some kind of devilish offering of my soul or something?

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