Page 33 of Lord of the Dark

His gaze was pure mockery as he tilted his head slightly, studying me. "Is that so?" he asked, entertained.

"Absolutely."

He dragged his tongue thoughtfully over his lower lip, as if only now bothering to formulate a response. Then he leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Valeria, then…" he said slowly, as if just remembering her. "Gorgeous woman. Long legs. Impeccable taste, in every way. A socialite through and through. Unbelievably elegant, clever, refined. She would’ve very much enjoyed ending up in my bed..."

A dark shiver ran over my skin as I watched him bask in my jealousy. He was savoring it.

"I’m not jealous—let’s not misunderstand—"

"Of course you’re not."

"No." I straightened, meeting his gaze calmly. I surprised myself with my composure, even though earlier, in the garden, I’d have gladly skinned Valentina—Malaria, whatever her name was—alive.

He leaned closer, his voice a low, seductive whisper. "You know, your bad luck is that I’ve had a great many people of vastly different characters sitting across from me. Often in situationsthat push them to their limits. And every single one of them tries to play some role they think fits the moment. That’s why I can tell performance from authenticity so well."

I hated when he could read me like this. I mirrored his predatory stance. "The point is... Alessandro... I have no right to be jealous." I paused, giving weight to what came next: "And you... don’t either."

The way his expression darkened—bullseye.

"But I don’t share," he hissed, voice rough.

"We’re not a couple. I have a boyfrie—"

Suddenly, his hands were on my hips, and before I could react, he yanked me hard onto him, his hardness pressing deep. I was still catching my breath, and he was already more than ready.

"Listen carefully," he said, gripping the back of my neck to drag me closer to his face. "You’re mine. Whether you want to be or not doesn’t matter."

I couldn’t look away, even as my pulse roared. Part of me wanted to flee. The other... just wanted to belong to him. My thighs bracketed his hips, one of his hands still fisted in my hair, the other locking me in place—and he was still buried inside me. As if he were already a part of me. A dangerous one. My entire body throbbed. I could barely breathe without feeling him.

"I have a boyfriend," I whispered, softer than intended—and the moment the last word left my lips, he thrust up hard. Deep. Unmistakable. As if he could fuck the lie out of me. As if he needed to prove how absurd that sentence was in this exact moment.

He dragged his thumb over my lower lip, as if erasing the words. "Say it again," he murmured, "if you still believe it."

I stayed silent. And that was answer enough.

He grinned, dark and satisfied. "You need someone who sees you. And takes you exactly as you are."

"And you think that’s you?" I hissed, trying to push back, to putdistance between us. But his hands held me firm.

"I'm your worst mistake, Fiona." In one swift motion, he flipped me beneath him, pinning me onto my back, his arms caging my head. "Or," he whispered against my lips, "I'm exactly what you've been searching for." Subtle, almost imperceptible, he nudged my legs apart with his knee, settling his hips between my thighs before thrusting into me.

I stared up at him. So much arrogance. So much truth. I should have protested. Instead, I kissed him—greedy, possessive. We were both far past the point of no return.

His hands held me down as his strokes became pure force, every deep drive an unspoken claim on my body, as if he were carving the meaning of his words into me.

"Alessandro... I... hate you..." The words fractured into a broken moan under the brutal rhythm of his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders, feeling the flex of his muscles with every movement, his breath growing heavier as he drove me down onto his cock, taking me deeper, as if I were his goddamn possession. My head fell back, lips parting in a silent cry as he quickened his pace, kneading my breast with rough fingers.

With a sharp movement, he nearly withdrew—only to slam back into me, deep and punishing. A ragged sound tore from my throat, my nails sinking into his skin hard enough to make him groan in pain. I felt my control shatter completely, my muscles clenching around him greedily, as if I could keep him inside me forever.

The moment exploded between us. A tremor wracked my body, shaking me apart until I no longer knew where I ended and he began. And when he followed, spilling deep inside me for the second time that night, my name a whisper on his lips, I knew there was no going back. I was lost, no matter how hard I fought it.

Alessandro held me for a long moment, his fingers lax againstmy skin, his breath hot on my neck. Then, with a quiet sigh, he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him until I lay sprawled across his chest. Silence settled between us—not uncomfortable, almost familiar, as if we'd known each other far longer. I closed my eyes, feeling his arm around my waist, the possessive grip keeping me from moving.

I blinked into the darkness, then lifted my head slightly. "Alessandro..."

He only grunted in response.

"Let me go." My voice lacked the conviction I’d intended.

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