Page 29 of My Bloody Valentine

“The way she tastes emotions in food...” Gabe continues. “Maybe that’s why she figured it out. But it also means she might be the only one who could truly appreciate your actions.”

I close my eyes, remembering how Maya’s face lit up during our tastings, how she described the depths of flavor, the complexity of emotions she discovered.

“You need to make her understand.” Gabe clears his throat. “Show her the beauty in what you create. Let her experience the full spectrum of what your... special ingredient brings to the chocolate.”

“She ran.” The memory of her horror-struck face twists in my gut.

“Of course she ran. You’re a killer, Adrian. That’s not an easy thing to accept.” Gabe straightens his collar. “But she hasn’t exposed you. That means something.”

My hands ball into fists at my sides. “So, what do you suggest?”

“She needs time to understand.” Gabe paces the kitchen, his earlier fear replaced by calculation. “Valentine’s Day is coming up. Your biggest event of the year.”

My hands hover over the chocolate molds. “What are you suggesting?”

“Create the perfect environment. Controlled. Private.” He taps his fingers against the steel counter. “That suite above your workshop—the one you’ve been renovating?”

Heat floods my chest. “It’s almost finished.”

“Perfect timing. Hold her there through Valentine’s Day. Show her your process and the art behind it. Let her experience everything in a setting where she can’t run.”

The idea blazes through me like lightning… Maya would be captive and attentive, forced to see the beauty in my work… no distractions, no escape—just us.

“She’d fight.” Excitement builds in my veins.

“At first.” Gabe shrugs. “But you’ve seen how she responds to you. Give her time and space to process. After a few days, she’ll understand.”

I close my eyes, imagining Maya in my private sanctuary. Teaching her, tasting with her, and showing her the intimate connection between blood and chocolate. Between art and death.

“The timing would work.” My fingers trace a chocolate mold. “Everyone expects me to disappear before the Valentine’s collection launch. I go into seclusion every year to perfect the easter recipes.”

“And this year, you’ll have the perfect tasting assistant.” Gabe’s smile carries a hint of relief—he knows he’s steered me toward a solution that doesn’t end in violence.

“Yes.” The word comes out like a prayer. “My little critic, trapped in a cage of chocolate and luxury.”

“Just be careful.” Gabe heads for the door. “Don’t let your feelings cloud your judgment.”

But we both know it’s too late for that warning. She’s already clouding my judgment, and nothing Gabe says will change that.

13

MAYA

It’s him. My heart hammers as I wake to the familiar scent of Adrian. I’m bound, naked, against the sheets. I know it’s a dream, but it feels so real. Adrian is there, his eyes bright with longing, as he runs his hands over my body.

“Adrian,” I breathe his name like a prayer. He leans in, his lips brushing mine, in a fierce and hungry kiss. I moan into it, wanting more. He pulls back, a smile playing on his lips, and his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“You want me, little critic?” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble. I nod, unable to speak, as his hand trails down my stomach, his fingers leaving fire trails across my skin.

“Tell me, Maya,” He demands, his fingers reaching the lips of my pussy. I whimper as he teases me, circling but not touching where I need him most. “Tell me how much you want my touch. How much you crave my cock inside you.”

“Please, Adrian...” I arch my back, desperate for release. “I want you. All of you. Now.”

He doesn’t keep me waiting any longer. In one swift movement, he’s inside me, his girth stretching me, his thrusts powerful and deep. My fingers dig into his back as he moveswith a savage rhythm. It’s hunger incarnate, a far cry from the refined sensuality of our previous encounters. This is untamed and desperate, and I love it.

I match his passion, moving with him, and there is an unspoken understanding between us. His breath is hot on my neck, and his lips taste the salt of my skin. He knows where to touch, how to move, and bring me to the brink.

“Adrian, I...” I can’t form the words as the pleasure builds, threatening to consume me.

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