Page 12 of Poisonous Savage

"Thankyou, sir," she breathed out, her voice a sultry echo.Submissionlaced her words, a sweet serenade to my ears.Thatvoice, like velvet wrapped around steel, fed the beast within me, somehow bringing it to life while also taming it.

"That'sa good girl."

Atwinge of something flickered across her face — defiance or acceptance, it didn't matter.Shewas in my world now, a plaything at my mercy.Thethought alone sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through me, my blood a rush of liquid fire.

"Youare mine.Yourbody’s mine.You'llbe my fuck puppet — awake, asleep, it doesn’t matter.Alwaysready for me."

Herlips parted, almost as if she wanted to protest.Therewas no escaping the truth etched into every fiber of her being.Iowned her pleasure, her pain, every goddamn scream, and whisper that poured from her mouth.

"Understand?"Idemanded, my voice a low growl vibrating against the walls of our dark sanctuary.

"Sir," she breathed, and the word was a caress against my dominance, a binding tie that shackled her to me in ways chains never could.Asmirk curled my lips asIwatched the realization settle over her — my darkness was now hers to bear, my shadows cast permanently over the light she once carried so effortlessly.

Thereshe was, kneeling before me, the light of her previous defiance flickering out like a snuffed candle. "Yes, sir," she murmured, and every syllable dripped with surrender, music to my twisted ears.

"Goodgirl."Istepped back from her, the heat of her submission lingering on my skin like a brand.Shewatched, those deep eyes of hers wide and unblinking, asIslid into a pair of boxers, the black fabric snapping against my hips.Heron her knees was new.Ididn't expect her to breakquite so soon.Maybeher father was right.She'dbe a pretty little doll with just a bit of encouragement.

Istrode over to the nightstand where the whiskey waited, amber liquid promising oblivion.Myfingers wrapped around the glass.Itipped it back, the burn of the liquor searing down my throat, a fuckin' reminder thatIwas alive — alive and ruling with an iron fist.Lookingdown,Rosalindwas still on her knees, waiting expectantly.

"Up,"Icommanded, and she rose, her knee clicking as she straightened.

Shestood there, tall and willowy, the curve of her spine a challengeI'dalready conquered.Thesight of her, marked by my hands, my mouth, my desire, it was a fuckin' masterpiece, oneI'dpaint over and over with my lust.

"Rememberthis,"Isaid, my voice a jagged edge cutting through the silence. "You'remine, every inch, every scream, every goddamn tear."

ThegripIhad on her was more than just flesh; it was her soul bending—no, breaking—to my will.Ifelt that power surge through me.Mychest was heavy, the brand of theCinderCrewsearing hotter than ever, a mark of ownership, of unchallenged rule.

Iglanced at her, those dark eyes that once held the light now reflecting only me, her captor, her keeper, her fucking husband.Herreverence was intoxicating, like the finestdrug, andIwas hooked, addicted to the swayIheld over her.Mycrew feared me and respected me, but her?Shewas a different beast altogether, oneI'dtame but would never break—fuck no,Iloved the fight too much.ShethoughtIwanted her to snap, but the truth was, what good is a broken doll?No,Iwanted her to submit because she feared her punishment if she didn't.Maybeone day, she'd come to crave the power exchange.Butfuck if it wasn't somethingI'dneeded all my life.

"Fuck,"Imuttered under my breath, the word coming out like a prayer in the dark sanctuary of our room.

Istrode across the room, every step harsh.Istopped at the foot of the bed, glancing at her, seeing the way she watched me with that mix of fear and heat.Shit, it did things to me, made me want to consume her all over again.

"Mine,"Igrowled, not for her, but for the walls, for the night, for the whole goddamn world to know.Theword hung heavy in the air, a decree, an unspoken promise of more—more darkness, more control, more of this fucked-up game we played.

Thebed creaked asIsat down, the sound a reminder of the violence of our union, the sheets still tangled from our thrashing bodies.Ileaned back, muscles relaxing as my mind raced, plotting the takedown of the next mafia that tried to fuck with me and mine.

"Sleep,"Icommanded.Shemoved, obedient as ever, her form slipping beneath the covers, the shadows swallowing her whole.

AndasIlay there, something struck me.Wewere a match made in hell, burning bright, destined to either set the world on fire or be consumed by our own flames.Butfuck it, either way,I'dhave her by my side—my queen, my captive, my fuckin' catalyst.Shewas the airIdidn't knowIneeded.Someoneto challenge me when all the fuckin' men had run scared.Butnot this little bitch.No, she stood before me, bare, and took it.Moremen than the onesIgutted today.

SoIclosed my eyes, the image of her burned behind my lids, andIwelcomed the darkness, knowing it was mine to command, just like the woman who shared my bed.

ROSALIND

Theweight ofHunter'sgrip on my arm was a heavy reminder of the new worldI'dbeen sold into.Istrode into the gala on his arm, the black fabric of my dress clinging to every curve, earning me several stares.Theballroom buzzed with the kind of high-stakes tension that made men likeHunterthrive—a room full of predators in expensive suits and women with eyes sharp as knives.

Thesilk rustled, and jewels glittered under the chandeliers’ unforgiving light as we moved through the crowd.Marcoshadowed us, his gaze lingering on me longer than necessary.Ifelt it like a caress, an unseen force that set my nerves on edge.Hisrelentless attention was a crackle in the air,dangerous and alive.

"Youmust beRosalind," a senator cooed, reaching for my hand with his sweaty palm.Ilet him kiss it, feeling nothing but the cold calculation pumping through my veins.Ismiled, honey-sweet, and watched his eyes fog over with something like desire—or maybe just greed.

"Yourhusband is quite the legend," he murmured, voice thick with the stench of scotch and tooth decay.

"Ishe?"Mylaugh was a wind chime, delicate and dismissive. "Ifind legends are often more fiction than fact."

Hunter’spresence loomed beside me.Ididn’t need to look at him to know his jaw was set as he watched and listened.

"Yourwork with the community is admirable,"Icontinued, talking to the chubby man. "Perhapsyou'd be interested in supporting a new... initiative?"

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