Page 57 of Claim

“Answer me, or I will eliminate you right here, and no one will care. By the time this party is over, a cleanup crew will come in, and there will be no evidence of your existence.”

“She flirted with me, so I showed her I was open, and then she started screaming and cr—” he gurgled, stopping his next words as I squeezed his neck in a debilitating grip.

“If you ever touch another woman without consent, you will die. If you ever go near Alice Stansbury or do anything to ruin her reputation, you will die. And if you so much as look in Sophia Morelli’s direction, you won’t just die. I will take great pleasure in ensuring the time beforehand is long and painful where you will wish and beg for me to end it.”

That’s when I heard water drip, and I glanced down to see the front of Keith’s pants soaked and urine pooling underneath his feet.

“Do I have your agreement?”

He whimpered and then nodded. “Yes. I won’t go near them or look at them.”

“If I discover you did anything to harm them or any other woman, I will make you regret it.”

“I—I promise. I won’t do anything.”

I threw him on the floor, stepping back. Randolph curled into a ball.

“Fucking pathetic.”

The adrenaline and fury burned inside me, and I knew if I stayed any longer, I’d go past threats and carry out the vengeance I sought.

I stared at the crumpled form of the man who’d hurt Sophia.

This cowering waste of space deserved no less than to have my hands ripping him limb from limb and bathe my fingers in his blood.

Every nerve in my body shook to destroy him.

Turning, I opened the door and headed out of the club and the hotel.

Keeping my breaths steady, I pushed down the nausea stirring in my gut. This bloodlust coursing through my veins was unlike anything I’d experienced before. I craved more of it. I hungered to revel in this feeling.

Sophia Morelli was the reason I wanted more and more.

The woman consumed me, filled me with the need to salt the earth with the bones of any man who dared hurt her.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, I stepped into the lounge of Violent Delights with my emotions no calmer than when I’d left the bastard Randolph in the nightclub.

The best thing for me was to lose myself to someone other than Sophia Morelli. I would find a sub with experience who loved pain and understood the rules, a beauty without dark hair or midnight eyes, to whom I wouldn’t have to teach every damn thing.

I circled the lounge, studying the couples, groups, and individuals at the tables, gathering spots, and sofas. The place was at capacity tonight, giving the space a hedonistic atmosphere.

As I moved toward the bar, a few subs I’d entertained and enjoyed in the past sat in a social circle in a corner, passing glances my way and giving the signal of interest. They were beautiful, loved pain, and understood what I expected, but sadly, none stirred the desire in me to take them up on their offer.

I approached the bartender Tate, who pushed my customary soft drink in my direction with an incline of his head. Taking the glass, I downed half the contents and let the cool liquid soothe my parched throat.

Most people would have chosen a more potent beverage, especially with the mood that simmered in my blood. However, they hadn’t grown up with someone who overindulged on a regular basis. I’d lived thirty-five years without touching the stuff, and I’d survive the rest of my life not having partaken in the oblivion alcohol offered.

My vices lay in other realms, such as this place. The cries, the moans, the fucking tears from desire, pain, pleasure, I craved it, wanted it, needed it.

I scanned the room again, my gaze connecting with a sultry brunette relaxing on a chaise. Everything about her was perfect, a beautiful face, large breasts, voluptuous curves, plump lips, and her wristband marked her as an experienced sub who enjoyed pain.

She’d let me tie her, beat her, fuck her, and we’d both walk away satisfied.

The brunette shifted in her seat, giving me an inviting smile.

Not a fucking spark.

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