Page 34 of Untamed

Fuck.

She can lie to herself all she wants. I know better.

She wants this. I’ve seen it in every word she’s typed, in every post she’s shared. The way she threads her fantasies with raw longing, the way her voice breaks just a little when she talks about surrendering control.

She wants this, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

And now I can’t stop.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, already knowing it’s her. A message lights up the screen.

Dreammafiaqueen

What did you do?

I smirk to myself, my thumb hovering over the reply. I should ignore her. Walk away. Hell, run before this goes further.

But I’ve never been good at ignoring temptation.

I left you a small present, little queen.

I press send, slip the phone back into my pocket, and step away from the rooftop edge. It’s better this way—for her, at least. She thinks I’m gone. She thinks I’ve let her go.

But I’ll be watching.

Just to make sure she’s safe, I tell myself.

And maybe—just maybe—to see if she’ll come looking for me.

Dreammafiaqueen

You shouldn’t have come here. I didn’t invite you.

Her message flashes on my screen, her defiance practically dripping through the text. I smirk, shaking my head. She’s trying to play the game, trying to keep control, but she doesn’t realize how much she’s already surrendered.

Didn’t you, though?

I send the reply and pocket my phone, pacing the rooftop as adrenaline courses through me. I shouldn’t have come here, and yet… I can’t stay away. Not when I’ve seen the way she responds, her breaths quickening, her eyes flaring when I step close.

I can’t do this. I won’t. I shouldn’t.

But the wordshouldn’thas never stopped me before.

Pulling out my phone again, I tap into the feed from the camera I had discreetly installed in her apartment. Her face fills the screen, beautiful and furious as she paces. The light from her fairy lights softens her edges, but it doesn’t hide the fire in her movements. She’s muttering to herself, running her fingers through her hair, biting her lip in frustration.

The way she bites her lip… my fingers flex at my sides, imagining them tracing the delicate curve of her jaw, tilting her face up so she can’t look anywhere but at me.

I check the biometric data monitor I installed earlier. Her heart rate is elevated, her breathing quick and shallow. She’s angry, sure, but there’s something else there too. Excitement. Anticipation.

She wants this, even if she won’t admit it yet.

And that’s why I’m here—not to scare her, but to remind her that the fantasies she hides behind her screen can be real if she lets them. If she lets me.

But I can’t push too hard. Not yet. I’ve spent years mastering control, and this is no different. I’ll take my time, unraveling her defenses piece by piece until she doesn’t just trust me—she craves me.

Her phone lights up on the camera feed, and I watch her glance at it, her thumb hesitating over the screen. My response must’ve shaken her more than she expected.

Good.

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