Page 10 of Vicious Games

I raised my fist to my lips and sucked the droplets of blood off my knuckles.

In the meantime, I needed to move quickly to make her formally mine in the eyes of God and man.

She will be my wife, my prized possession, for all time.

And she could keep her love… I’d take everything else, including her freedom.

I clenched my jaw. I actually almost believed myself.

CHAPTER 5

AURORA

I tapped out Claude Debussy’s Clair de Lune on my thigh as I watched several butterflies flutter around a patch of goldenrod at the edge of Roman’s garden. The bright yellow flowers grew like weeds in the shallow hollows below the hedges. It was a strange sight. The rest of his garden was carefully controlled with ridged hedges and tightly shorn trees lining the white gravel paths. It looked like a mini version of the gardens at Versailles. Not a stone was out of place.

Except for a quiet corner in the back.

There, an unnoticed patch of goldenrod flowers had flourished, almost willfully defying him. I often sat on the grass near them, taking comfort in their bright sunny color and their playful disobedience to Roman’s designs.

I turned my face up to the sunshine, feeling its healing warmth. As I closed my eyes, I imagined I was one of the butterflies. Free to roam in the sunshine among the sweet-smelling flowers.

A tear escaped out of the corner of my eye as my cold reality settled over me like a cloud.

I wasn’t one of the free butterflies. I was the unfortunate butterfly who had allowed herself to get caught in a killing jar. Each day I spent with Roman, there was less and less oxygen in the jar. Soon, I would be a dead shell of myself, pinned to his wall as a trophy possession and nothing more.

The worst part was I was slowly learning to love my captivity, even though I knew it would end in my own destruction. A sick and twisted part of me was relieved that Roman had found out about my plans to flee to France. I’d even enjoyed his punishment for my defiance. My tortured soul had gloried in every struggle for breath each time I gagged on his cock. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I could feel myself changing. It was as if his coldness was devouring all my warmth. Each day I turned less and less to the light and instead sought the darkness. In the dark, you could be anyone, do anything. There were no rules, no judgments, no tomorrows. I could give in to the thrill I felt when he spanked my ass or ruthlessly bent me over to fuck me from behind. I could fall to my knees and allow him to fuck my mouth until I thought I would pass out. I could relish the feel of his hands around my throat as he thrust between my legs. I could take it all in, all of it, without guilt or recriminations or shame.

In the darkness, I was free.

The only problem was that very darkness was going to kill me. I knew deep in my heart that one day, this fascination with him would end. One day, I would once again crave the light… but it might be too late.

I shuddered. Perhaps that was why I had spent more and more time out in the garden? Perhaps I was seeking the superficial warmth of the sun to replace the warmth of my soul as it shriveled and turned cold from craven lust.

There was no doubt Roman had me in thrall.

I could be weak and blame my age. I could fall back on the idea that he was older, with more money and power, but deep down I knew those were just hollow excuses. Deep down, I knew that if I truly wanted to escape him, I would. I hadn’t needed to have those letters from France sent here. I could have asked Eleanor to hide them at her place, but I didn’t. I risked being caught by having them sent directly to his lair. Like I was daring him to catch me—and each day I became more bold.

Each day, I tested the limits of his control.

This may have started out as his game, but there was no denying I was now a willing player.

I was getting a sick thrill from pushing him to punish me. I wasn’t stupid. I knew I felt guilt and shame from enjoying the pain with the pleasure. By goading him to snap, I could blame him for punishing me, instead of accepting that I liked the pain, that I liked when he spanked me and when he fucked me up the ass until I screamed for mercy. I liked it all, and I wanted more.

My time was running short. If I didn’t make a sincere effort to break free, I would be lost, because I knew, despite all evidence to the contrary, I was falling in love with him.

He was arrogant, demanding, hateful, and ruthless, but he was also intelligent, cultured, and the most fascinating man I had ever known. He had a dark charisma that drew me in like a moth to a flame. One moment he was impossibly cruel, the next he was the kind of passionate, all-consuming lover you only read about in romance novels. I constantly felt off-balance and out of control around him. As if I were in a speeding car on a dangerous country lane. My body thrilled at the twists and turns as we raced around each sinister corner, all the while knowing that at any moment, we could crash.

A dark shadow crossed over me, interrupting my thoughts.

Lifting my hand to shade my eyes from the glare, I stared at the shadowed outline of Roman as he towered over me, blocking out the sun.

He stretched out his hand toward me. After a moment’s hesitation, I took it. He raised me to my feet and pressed me backward until my body came in contact with a nearby oak tree that guarded the farthest corner of the garden.

Roman leaned in, placing a forearm over my head and toying with a lock of my hair with his other hand. “Say you’re sorry.”

I sighed. “Roman, you need to understand, I—”

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