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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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He's Going To Burn This House To The Ground

Summary: Kidnapped from her home, Elain Archeron swears she doesn't know anything about her ex-boyfriend Graysen.

Lucien Vanserra knows better.

TW: Dark romance, extremely dubious consent. Mafia AU. Kidnapper/Kidnappee. Forced Orgasm. Criminals who don't deserve love but find it anyway. Murder. Dead dove, etc etc. NSFW, don't interact if you're not interested, and respect the TW.

25k words.

Prologue:

Lucien shifted uncomfortably in the leather seat of his car. Around him, the city began humming to life. Grateful the street lights over head flickered off, Lucien pushed open the door, closing it quietly. He’d parked down the back alley of a local bookstore hours before it opened. Nothing was awake yet and wouldn’t be for at least another hour.

Nothing but the bakery, anyway.

Lucien went every morning faithfully, always ordering the same orange scone to go since he was busy. And he was…though not too busy for her. It had taken him a while to learn she was the only person who worked in that little store, set sweetly against the corner of the street. She lived alone just overhead in an apartment he’d never once seen though he’d never asked to join her in bed.

He didn’t think she’d take too kindly to that, given she’d been dating the same man for the last four years. It didn’t stop him from imagining what might happen if he ever did get up there.

What would he find?

Lucien pushed open the back door quietly, flexing his fingers in his leather gloves. It was colder than usual for October and his boots crunched gently in a soft layer of ice that would evaporate in the heat of afternoon. Inside, the sweet scent of sugar assaulted his senses. Lucien almost smiled, letting the door fall closed gently behind him. He could hear music coming from the kitchen, could hear her voice singing along.

She was good, he thought absently. Lucien stood in a dingy, dark hall. If he paced forward five steps and turned, he’d find the bathrooms on one end and the kitchen on the other. If he went a little further, he’d find the door that led him to the front.

Lucien wanted neither. He turned to his immediate right for the rotting wood door that didn’t lock. Leaving the music behind him, Lucien descended into the damp dark where only a few plastic tubs were stacked against a far wall. He reached upwards automatically, letting his fingers brush against the exposed pipes. He used them to guide him from one end of the room to the other where the little electrical box was housed.

Pulling it open, Lucien tripped the circuit. Over him, the singing abruptly stopped. Lucien shifted towards one of the heavy pillars in the basement, letting it shield his body.

Come to me.

He heard her wrench the door open with a huffing sigh. “This keeps happening,” she grumbled, unaware he’d been priming her for weeks. The first time she’d tripped it, she’d called Graysen for help. He’d come begrudgingly, showing his girlfriend how to fix the problem herself.

Stop calling me for stupid shit while I’m at work.

Lucien could have kissed Graysen for his callous words. The next time Lucien tripped her switch, she’d stared at her phone, biting that plush bottom lip before venturing timidly into her basement. Now, though? Now she’d tucked her phone in her apron pocket as she stomped down the stairs with irritation.

The swish of her cotton yellow skirt was the only sound for a moment. He watched her make her way past him, unaware he was there at all. Her finger slipped right over the same button he’d touched, bringing it all back to life. Nothing unusual. No hint anyone had lured her down there.

Of course, that wasn’t true at all. Elain turned and there he was.

Her eyes went wide with fear. Lucien smiled.

“Elain,” he murmured.

“Luci—” she never finished his name. Luicen lunged for her, pulling her into his chest and his waiting rag. She inhaled to scream, drinking down his little concoction. Her body immediately went limp, though the fire remained longer than he’d expected. She writhed and kicked and struggled until finally she was little more than dead weight in his arms. Lucien hoisted her against him easily.

Lucien dropped Elain’s body into his trunk before reaching for his phone. No one saw him. No one was looking. Just overhead, the sun began to pour light onto the streets around him.

“Any trouble?”

“Nope,” he replied to the sound of his eldest brother's voice. “Send someone to clean her up. Elain is going on vacation.”

There was a pause. “I’ll send Tanwen.”

“Works for me.”

Lucien slid back into the car he’d slept in, revving the engine to life.

“Take her to the lake house,” Eris murmured. “No one will be looking for her there.”

All the better. Lucien relished the silence.

“How long before we reach out?”

“Twenty four hours. Let him stew a little.”

Lucien clenched his jaw. “Anything else?”

“Nothing else.”

Those were the parameters Lucien liked best. Eris sometimes wanted a mark all in one piece, a kidnapping for show only. A little cash or information in exchange for someone’s pretty little wife to sit tucked up nice and tight for an evening. Lucien did what his brother ordered without complaint—Eris headed up the Vanserra family, after all.

What Lucien was truly looking forward to was time alone in the woods, in nature. He spent too much time trapped in that fucking city, staring at his reflection in oil soaked potholes on the crumbling streets. Velaris was a shithole. If he had his way, Lucien would never leave the vast expanse of forest and the sprawling estate their late father had built decades before.

The city vanished in the rearview, replaced by the blinding orange of the sunrise. Lucien smiled and turned on the radio.

Everything is good.

~*~

Elain woke to the taste of blood in her mouth. “Oh, God,” she whispered. How much had she drank last night? She’d sworn she was going to stop, that she’d deal with Graysen and the breakup like an adult and not with too much wine mixed with even more tequila. Clearly that had failed.

Elain sighed. It was still dark and her alarm wasn’t screaming, which meant she still had time. Laying on her back, Elain tried to turn to her side. Rigid ties on her wrists kept her from moving. Her eyes flew open, adjusting to the dark. A small sliver of bright light slipped through heavy curtains at the end of the room, and a lamp on a table by the bed she laid in was switched on, bathing her in a dim glow. She was undressed, completely bare and uncovered by a blanket. A blue sheet lay beneath her with a matching pillow.

White corded rope tied more than just her wrists. Her ankles, too, her bound, splaying her out for a man sitting in the corner of the room. She knew him.

“Lucien?” she asked, blinking rapidly. He held a gun against his thigh and had she not been restrained as she was, she might have thought this was all some strange misunderstanding. After all, she’d spent more than her fair share of time ogling the man in the well-tailored dress pants and his tight fitting vests. Lucien, with his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his auburn hair tied off his face, came in every morning for an orange scone. He made jokes, had never been anything but polite.

She had a crush on him.

Or did, anyway.

“You’re awake,” his deep, honeyed voice murmured. “You’ve been out for a while.”

Elain tugged against the restraints. “Let me go.”

He stood, unfurling his muscular, tall body as he stretched. Gun still in hand. Her eyes could look at nothing else when he prowled forward, dragging the barrel of her bare thigh. “You want to go home?”

“Yes,” she breathed, trying so hard not to scream and cry. This is a mistake. He’s going to let me go.

“I have some questions about Graysen,” he murmured, stopping just above her bared sex. He cocked his head to look and Elain squirmed, trying to clamp her legs together.

“Graysen?”

“Yes, Graysen,” he agreed. He was conversational, almost polite despite his dark eyes. She’d always wondered about those trio of scars raking down his rather pretty russet colored eyes. Now the sight of them, coupled with the cold stare his handsome face leveled, Elain wondered if she’d been stupid not to recognize him for what he was.

Monster.

“What about him?” she squirmed again, cool steel skipping the most intimate part of her to press gently against her stomach.

Lucien inclined his head in a mockery of thought. “How does he like his eggs in the morning?”

“He’s vegan,” she whispered, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Lucien’s upper lip curled, as if that fact distrubred him.

“And how does he like to eat pussy?”

“Why are you asking me this?” she replied, breath hitching when Lucien pressed his gun against the underside of her breast.

“Answer the question, Elain.”

God, she wanted to die. Humiliation burned through her stomach. “He doesn’t.”

“Because it’s not vegan?”

“Let me go,” she pleaded, turning her head when he stepped closer to the bed.

“Okay, okay. I’m being rude. Let me ask something easier. How does he like to dismember, Elain? Hm? Where is his little hidey hole? Tell me that and I’ll let you go in the morning.”

Elain closed her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She was shaking so hard she could only just hear the woosh of disappointed air from his lungs.

“You’ll tell me he doesn’t eat pussy but not where he kills?” Lucien questioned, almost laughing at the absurdity. “Is this your version of modesty?”

“Graysen is an accountant,” she told him, tears slipping down her cheek. That gun, warmed by her own skin, teased between her breasts to settle just beneath her jaw.

“Of course,” Lucien agreed with amusement. “And I’m a lawyer. This doesn’t have to be hard, Elain. Just tell me where he keeps it and in the morning I’ll dump you in the woods and you can catch a ride home. With a body like that…” she could practically hear his grin. “It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I don’t know,” she screamed, tugging wildly at her restraints in frustration. If Graysen was a killer, he’d certainly never told her so. He was an accountant, he worked downtown. She’d seen his office, had been to his home, had—

The hammer of his gun silenced her screaming fit. “Don’t make me beg. You won’t like the way I beg.”

“Graysen and I broke up weeks ago,” Elain sobbed, turning her head so she didn’t have to look at him. “He’s an accountant—”

Lucien’s fingers slid over her jaw, forcing her to look back at him. “If Graysen was an accountant, why are you here?”

Elain could only sob. “You’ll see,” she whispered.

Lucien brought his mouth too close to her own, filling her with fear. “Everyone says that. Everyone swears they don’t know anything, that this is all a mistake.”

“It is.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s not. I know he told you and you’ll tell me. Maybe not tonight or even tomorrow but eventually you’ll get tired and lonely and hungry and who knows.”

Lucien pulled back, sliding his gun in the back of his pants. “Who knows what you might say in the meantime.”

“And if you’re wrong?” she questioned as he withdrew, striding towards the closed door.

“I’m already going to hell, Elain,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her. “One more mistake could hardly damn me further.”

~*~

Lucien let Elain stew for hours in the upstairs bedroom. He retreated to the lowest level, sitting in dark silence while she screamed and pleaded and screamed some more. They all did, he reminded himself. She was a liar, just like Graysen was a liar. He’d heard Graysen’s bragging on the phone, his sworn, I love you baby. When Lucien had stolen his phone, it had been Elain’s name on the screen.

She would say anything to protect him, to keep herself from a bullet between her pretty little eyes. Lucien stared at his screen, at the picture of her asleep, splayed out suggestively. He’d sent it hours ago. Most men would have responded but Graysen remained silent. He’d read the message—Lucien could see the timestamp beneath.

Did Graysen think he’d get her back? Lucien wondered until the screaming upstairs faded to nothing. Had she fallen asleep or just given up?

Any word?

Lucien tapped out a quick response.

Silence.

He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what Eris thought. Break her. Women were easy to scare. The threat of a little sexual violence, a few carefully chosen promises and they spilled their guts. He doubted this one was any different. Letting his steps punctuate the otherwise quiet night, dragging them out to heighten her fear, Lucien ruminated on the best course of action. Everyone was afraid of a gun but it too often made them stupid—to quick to lie. A knife might draw her out, keep her focused but there seemed something almost sacrilegious about cutting her up. She was pretty—beautiful, even. He understood why Graysen guarded her the way he did.

Or, at least, had guarded her. Lucien had spent months trying to get close, had attempted this little plan more than once. Graysen had made it obnoxiously difficult until recently, too wrapped up in taking territory and killing Vanserra men to notice Lucien had stopped prowling the streets.

Elain was watching when he pushed the creaky door open with the toe of his shoe. Wide eyed that seemed altogether too innocent, too trusting. Too sweet. Lucien’s body ached at the sight of her bound against the bed, legs spread obscenely. “Look at you,” he murmured, ignoring the way his pants felt too tight.

Elain cleared her throat, clearly trying to pretend she could have a rational conversation. He could see she’d been crying—had heard it only minutes before. Still, Lucien wanted to see what little plan she’d come up with. Let her know that he’d been here before. She couldn’t charm him, couldn’t sweet talk her way out of this. If she thought to humanize herself to him, there was no need. The problem wasn’t that Lucien saw her as an object, it was merely Elain as a means to an end.

“How long are you going to keep me here?” she asked, her careful voice warbling. Lucien smothered a smile. Trembling little fawn.

He shrugged as he approached the edge of the bed, wrapping his hand around the black bedpost that tied one of her ankles. Beron so loved his nineteenth century furniture. “Are you ready to leave already?”

She drew a breath that made her pretty little tits bounce. “People will be looking for me.”

Lucien pushed off the bed, walking towards the side of the mattress so he could sit next to her. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he showed her the text Graysen sent.

“Are you sure?”

A tear slid down her cheek. He wanted to taste it. “We broke up, he–” she swallowed whatever she’d been about to say. Lucien ran his fingers over her soft, tanned cheek. Scooping the tear, Lucien smeared it over her swollen, pink lips.

“Men like Graysen don’t break up with the women they spill secrets to. If he broke up with you, your body would be floating in the river.”

“I don’t know anything!” she exclaimed, thrashing wildly again. Lucien watched with fascination. Her body arched off the bed, toes curling, hands balled into fists. He reached for her, pressing a palm against her flat stomach to shove her back to the mattress. Elain instantly went still. She’d messed up, had forgotten she was supposed to be calm.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” she tried when Lucien stood, ignoring how badly he wanted to twist her pretty nipples until she arched and gasped again.

“I know you will,” he agreed, moving to the end of the bed. He sat beside her spread legs, idling a finger up and down her thigh. “I don’t think you’d tell me anything truthful, Elain.”

“Please don’t,” she whispered as his hand slid higher.

“Where does Graysen live?” he began, swallowing a groan at the heat he felt radiating against his skin.

“Michigan avenue,” she said immediately, turning her head to the side when he brushed one finger over her spread pussy. Wet. Not drenched, hardly soaked and yet enough moisture to make his cock throb. She was smooth here, save for the tiniest strip of hair neatly groomed over the top of her cunt, a little tease before you got to the bared, smooth skin. Lucien rubbed again, not directly, but against her lips.

Soft. She was so fucking soft he wanted to bury himself in it.

He knew where Graysen lived.

“And where does he work?”

“Two blocks down,” she breathed, her voice thick with tears. “He walks.”

Lucien knew that, too. Walked to his office, a rented space the Nolans used as a front. “The picture he keeps of you on his desk is cute. Where’d you take it?”

“A farm,” she cried softly, twisting her hips when he ran his thumb over her hooded clit.

“Were you picking fruit, Elain?”

“Stop,” she pleaded, twisting against his slow touch. Lucien didn’t move, didn’t let up.

“Tell me. You said you’d tell me anything I wanted to know.”

“Strawberries,” she gasped, bucking unintentionally into his hand when he dipped his fingers into her body. Lucien kept his breathing under control but she was wetter now, smooth and slippery. Dragging it back up her clit, Lucien continued his absent questions.

“Did he go with you?”

“No,” she cried. Lucien paused, eyes searching her face. Was she saying no to his touch or no to the question. “Please, Lucien—”

“If you keep begging, I’m going to think you want me to fuck you,” he warned. Her eyes flew open to look at him, rimmed and swollen from her tears. He wanted her to, wanted her to cry his name again to give him an excuse to free his aching cock.

“He didn’t go with me,” she panted. Absently, Lucien wondered if he couldn’t condition her to answer him honestly with pleasure. She was biting her bottom lip so hard he was sure she must have drawn blood. Lucien sped up his thumb just a little. A whimper escaped Elain’s throat.

“I don’t get what you see in him,” Lucien commented lightly. “Did you frame that picture?”

Her eyes shuttered closed again, arms tugging against her restraints. “Yes.”

“That’s pathetic,” he commented, eyes sliding back to her pink, open cunt. Dragging his fingers back down, Lucien slid one inside without any preparation or preamble. Another cry dragged from her mouth.

“No, Lucien—”

“What did I say about begging?” he growled. “Do it again and I’ll put my cock in your mouth.”

Her body shook silently, lips pressed together. Lucien began slowly—so, so slowly—fucking her with just that one finger. He knew she didn’t mean to tighten around him, was trying so hard to push him out with her struggling hips and yet each little movement only drew more slick, only made him certain he had to know what it would feel like to have her pussy wrapped around him.

“Why didn’t he come to your birthday?”

Lucien knew why. Graysen had been executing his friend Andras in a back alley. Elain’s whole body shook as she drew a ragged breath. She tightened around him and too late, Lucien wondered if she was getting close.

“He had to work late,” she whispered breathlessly, whining when he pushed a second finger into her body.

“Almost,” he praised, pumping his fingers harder, faster. His other hand had moved to her clit, rubbing circles to force her to come around him. He wanted to see it. He should have stopped, should have let her dangle over that edge but Lucien was greedy. He wanted her to know what he was capable of even when she didn’t want it.

“Why was he working late?”

“I don’t know!” she screamed, eyes flying open. “Lucien, stop it, don’t—!”

Her cunt pulsated, clamping so tight he saw stars. She screamed, hips arching and thrashing against the pleasure he could feel rolling through her. He could only watch, fascinated and stunned by her violent reaction, by the force with which it seemed to rip through her. His hand was coated in her release.

“Drippy,” he murmured, watching it slide down her trembling thighs. “Needy.”

“Stop it!” she screamed, trying so hard to kick. It was like watching a newborn kitten unsheath its claws for the very first time. “Lucien—!”

He snarled without meaning to, yanking his fingers out of her to crawl up her body and jam them into her throat. Elain gagged, saliva pooling down her chin. “What did I say, Elain?”

She couldn’t respond, not when he was pressed against the back of her throat. She arched into him in an attempt to draw breath. Lucien pulled back, dragging his pads over her hyper wet tongue. “Taste your arousal, sweetheart. You like this.”

She shook her head no, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I’ll bet you beg me to keep you when Graysen shows up for his little pet. My good little cockslut.”

“Stop it,” she whispered. Lucien gripped her face roughly, forcing her to look at him.

“Tell me where he works, Elain.”

“On–”

He pinched her nipple roughly. Elain yelped, twisting despite his legs straddling her chest. “I know he told you. You say you hate this? You want me to stop? Tell me where he works.”

Elain shook so hard he thought she might fall to pieces. “I don’t know.”

Lucien rolled his eyes, his frustration overwhelming him.

“Sleep on it, princess. I’ll be back in the morning. We have all day together.”

“Lucien,” she gasped as he swung off her, adjusting his cock in his pants. She didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Lucien, please—”

He grinned. “I do so love when you beg. Tomorrow we’ll see what else that pretty little mouth can do…besides lie, of course.”

“Lucien!” she screamed, but he slammed the door shut.

Locking her inside.

~*~

“Graysen?” Elain asked, wiping tears from her face with flour stained hands. “What is this?”

He’d just come through the bakery doors, immaculate in his suit and tie. Flowers in hand because he’d missed her birthday—again—and needed to make it up to her. She’d been angry, had sent him a series of furious texts he’d just ignored like always. It was as if her anger didn’t matter.

He looked at the screen before dropping the bouquet unceremoniously onto the glass case. “Cunt,” he muttered. Elain pulled her phone back as though he’d burned her.

“Tell me it’s not true.”

“Would you believe me?” he replied dryly. “It’s not true. That’s not me fucking that slut on your phone. Those aren’t my screenshots. She wants what we have, she’s jealous—”

“How could you?” Elain interrupted his dry, mocking tone. Graysen slid his tongue over his teeth impatiently.

“She was just there. Sometimes after work I…”

“You’ve done this before.”

“I have needs, Elain. Needs that don’t involve endless trips to your fucking fruit farms and the bookstore. I don’t want to watch tv in bed with you at night, okay? Sometimes I want my cock buried in ass and you…”

She blinked more tears away.

“Maybe this is for the best,” he muttered, running a hand through sandy brown hair. “You’re always jumping my shit. I don’t have time to hold your hand through every imagined insecurity–”

“Is it imagined if you actually fucked her?!” Elain screamed, recoiling when his hand flew towards her. He just barely missed this time, but the threat remained. They both knew what he was capable of, what he could do if she pushed too far.

“Are you jealous it wasn’t you?” he asked softly, sliding a hand towards his zipper. “I can fuck you like I fucked her.”

“Stop it,” she whispered, hating him with a bruising, ugly passion. “Just tell me why.”

“Why I fucked her? Because she was hot and she was easy. Men don’t always want to work for it, Elain. You make it too hard. Look, I’m sorry alright? But I think taking a break would be good for us.”

“Sure,” she replied, wiping her cheeks. “Okay.”

“I’ll call you,” he lied. She knew he wouldn’t. Not unless he couldn’t find someone willing to have sex with him, anyway. She understood, in that moment, that she’d never meant much to him.

That she’d just been a consistent, easy thing. She’d put in years of work, had wanted a life with this man and he wanted…he wanted sex and nothing else.

“Happy birthday,” he added, nodding towards the cheap flowers he’d picked up from the grocery store.

“Yeah. Happy birthday.”

Elain woke to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The curtain was still closed, the darkness disorienting her. The door swung open and Lucien appeared. He’d changed though he still had his belted black slacks, his snug vest, his white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His long hair was still pulled off his face and in his large hands was a tray.

He paused when he saw her. “Do you eat meat?”

She almost laughed. It was the most absurd question given what he’d done to her last night. “Yes.”

He nodded, setting the tray of food—eggs and fruit and a couple pieces of bacon—on the bedside table.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes,” she admitted. Elain desperately needed to pee. Lucien cocked his head.

“If I untie you, are you going to try and run?”

Yes. “No,” she whispered.

“You’re such a liar,” he replied, his hands sliding to the ropes that bound her. “I hope you do, though.”

Her heart pounded roughly in her chest. “I won’t.”

“Lie, lie, lie,” he crooned, freeing her wrist before moving to her ankle. Elain cradled it against her chest, ignoring the bruising burns purpling over her skin. His fingers brushed against her shin, drawing goosebumps in their wake. She hadn’t forgotten what he’d done to her or how she’d come without wanting to. Without meaning to. It was like her body operated outside of her purview, had just decided for her that it liked him. It was as if her crush had never faded. How many nights, even when she’d been dating Graysen, had she thought about the tall, red haired man that ordered that orange scone? And how many nights had she slept with Graysen only to pretend she came because he didn’t care either way? Lucien had ripped something out of her and though she’d felt humiliated and shamed, it had also felt good. Elain didn’t know what to make of that knowledge and was afraid he’d guessed how she felt.

There was no trace of the man who’d threatened to have sex with her the night before and that was disorienting, too. He was all business, as if there were nothing between them, nothing strange or unusual. His eyes glanced towards her face more than once, looking for something he’d never find.

“How did you meet Graysen?” he asked when she was totally unbound. Elain rubbed at her wrists, sitting up for the first time since he’d taken her. She’d never realized how her body could ache from laying so long. She needed him to trust her long enough to figure out a way out of here. She didn’t want him to retie her.

“Same as you,” she mumbled when he walked towards the dresser shoved against the far wall. “He came into the bakery.”

“That place is bad luck,” he murmured, crouching as he dug through one of the bottom drawers. “If I were you, I’d burn it to the ground.”

Elain swallowed, creeping towards the edge of the bed to watch him. Lucien emerged victorious, holding a buttoned up white shirt that clearly belonged to him. “Put this on.”

She recoiled as he tossed it to her. Lucien waited a beat and then, “Or be naked. Your choice.”

To punctuate his point, Lucien looked her up and down with a slow drag, the kind that made her wonder if he didn’t know whole-heartedly that she was unaware of Graysen’s secret life and wanted a reason to torture her anyway.

She pulled it over her head just like he wanted her to. He gestured for her to stand and Elain found herself grateful for the overly large fabric. It fell nearly to her knees, covering everything she didn’t want him looking at.

“Did Graysen say anything?” she whispered, hating how pathetic she sounded. Lucien’s face darkened.

“Nope.”

She knew he wouldn’t and still some part of her had hoped that maybe he would feel responsible, would demand they release her in exchange for whatever it was Lucien wanted. Elain’s shoulders slumped.

“How long will you keep me here?”

His mouth drew into a frown. “What happened to someone would be looking for you?”

“My sisters,” she whispered, her bottom lip trembling. “But they’re in other states. They won’t…they won’t even realize…” how long before Nesta and Feryre realized she hadn’t called? That she hadn’t posted anything online? How long would they wait after shooting a quick text just to check in? Weeks? Months? She’d be lucky if Lucien kept her for a week. He was going to realize she didn’t know anything and rethink his strategy. She’d seen his face.

Elain knew she wasn’t leaving the room. Her legs gave way beneath her, collapsing her to the ground right at his feet. If she’d had anything in her stomach she would have vomited it up. Instead, Elain dry-heaved like an animal, gagging and gasping for air in equal measure until Lucien crouched beside her.

“You need a bath,” he said, brushing a piece of hair from her face. “C’mon.”

“No,” she managed, pushing away to press herself against the wall. “Just let me go, I won’t say anything–”

He sighed, hauling her into the air like a bratty toddler. She hated how comforting it felt to be pressed against the warm slab of his body, to feel strong arms touching her even as she knew he was dragging her towards a basin of water, could easily press her into it, could kill her—

“He took me to a bookstore,” Elain gasped as they walked down the hall. “On our first date, he took me to a bookstore.”

“Okay?” Lucien questioned. She needed him to understand and wasn’t sure how else to convince him. Just tell him how it started.

“He used to come into the bakery every morning…just like you. He ordered vegan, blackberry scone every day. I’d only meant to make them for a week but he kept ordering them…and he was so nice.”

Lucien didn’t react as he pushed open the door to the large, white tiled bathroom. The tub had golden clawed feet and was wide and big enough for two people. Lucien set her on the ground, gesturing towards the toilet just beside the separate glass shower. Of course he’d watch, though he turned his back and closed the door, offering her a small modicum of privacy.

“He bought me a first edition of Pride and Prejudice,” she continued once she’d relieved herself, sitting on the top of the toilet lid while Lucien filled the tub with water. He didn’t react, didn’t look as if he found any of this fascinating. “He wrapped it up in brown paper and brought it with him when he came in next.”

“Get in,” Lucien murmured, gesturing towards the tub of water. Elain hesitated.

“Are you going to drown me?”

“I’m going to wash your fucking hair,” he retorted. “Get in the goddamn bath, Elain.”

Washing hair was an act of care. Maybe she could condition him into seeing her as a person if she stopped fighting her when he did something nice. Something kind. Elain unfurled her legs and hoped he wasn’t lying. He watched her pull off the shirt, eyes dropping to his feet when she was totally bare. Shame? Elain walked to the tub, gasping when she realized how warm it was.

Lucien stiffened but didn’t apologize. She took a breath.

“Thank you,” she murmured, brushing her fingers against the back of his hand. It felt wrong—her whole body rebelled and yet Elain didn’t let him see the fear and revulsion she felt. Didn’t let him see the way her throat tightened because she knew some part of her was reacting to him, despite her circumstances.

She would do whatever she had to in order to survive.

Lucien clenched his jaw, watching her sink into the water. Knees drawn to her chest, Elain stared at the faucet pouring hypnotic water until it thundered in her head.

“What happened next?” Lucien asked, crouching beside the tub, his fingers sliding through the crystal clear water.

“He asked if he could buy me dinner,” she told him, swallowing hard as she uncurled her legs. He’d already seen, she reminded herself. It was okay, this was okay. Her pounding heart flooded her with panic but Lucien didn’t try and touch. He rested his head against his forearm. What was he learning, she wondered? “We went to Lou’s and he bought a nice bottle of wine. He said he was an accountant.”

“What did your father do for a living?” he asked quietly, gesturing for her to tip her head back. Matching purple bottles on the lip of the basin told her he probably wasn’t going to dunk her under but Elain kept her eyes pinned on his face even when they wanted to close to avoid the inevitable water droplets.

“He didn’t,” she replied. “He ah…he…we were pretty poor.”

“And your mother?” his muffled voice pressed. Elain pushed water from her face, watching like a hawk as Lucien poured shampoo into his large hands. No watch today—the same hands that had penetrated her the night before now slid through wet strands, his nails gently scrubbing against her scalp. Elain resisted the urge to lean into that touch, her body taut like a bowstring.

The touch was nice—for now. She wasn’t resisting, wasn’t crying.

She didn’t trust him not to hurt her if she displeased him and had no idea what might set him off.

“She died when I was eleven. I don’t remember if she had a job.”

Lucien hummed a noncommittal response before, “And how does a girl like you keep herself clothed and fed?”

She swallowed against the implication. “My sister would steal…and I learned how to cook.”

His surprise caught her off guard. “Is that why you bake?”

It was a genuine question. She could tell, from the way he immediately reset his jaw, that he hadn’t meant to ask. Elain sighed, forcing herself to close her eyes and relax.

Yes. Good job.

“Yeah. It’s comforting. I feel useful.”

“Lean,” he ordered, rinsing her hair with methodical touches. She’d gotten under his skin, if only for a moment. Elain did as she was told, letting him see what compliance might look like, letting him rinse the suds from her hair. It was nice, in a fucked up way. Not so nice she forgot who he was or what he’d done, but better than his hand around her neck or his fingers in her throat.

Lucien conditioned her hair wordlessly, letting it sit while he poured soap into his hands. Elain watched but didn’t move when his hands began their slow slide over her skin. Touching. She didn’t want to ruin this, to start crying and remind him that she’d been manipulating him into not hurting her.

Fingers dipped between her legs. She gasped softly, biting her lip to keep herself from tensing too much. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

“And when did you realize he was mafia?” Lucien asked, hovering over pussy. It was a threat.

Tell me you knew and I won’t touch you.

If she lied, she risked getting caught. She risked being hurt worse. She wanted to make something up–how the fuck would Lucien know the difference? Still, she hadn’t forgotten he kept a gun tucked into the back of his pants. She might lie and he might decide to kill her.

“He never told me,” she whispered, whimpering when his soapy fingers invaded her body again.

“Liar,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “I heard him talking to you.”

Mafia, mafia, mafia. The word clanged through her. Too much about Graysen’s strangeness made sense. His weird hours. Always working late, taking calls in the middle of the night. The gun he kept in his glove box—just in case—his friends with the bruised knuckles, the way he always had wads of cash rubber banded in his pocket.

Elain shook her head back and forth. “You’re so fucking stupid—”Lucien pulled from her body, hand on the top of her head to push her beneath the water. Elain thrashed, scratching at his wrist and kicking wildly, her ankle hitting the faucet so hard she gasped involuntarily, sucking water into her lungs.

Lucien pulled her out, allowing her to surge over the edge of the tub to vomit water onto the floor. He was soaked, his rage palpable. “Do you want to try that again?”

Elain coughed and gagged, trying to get a chest-full of air. “You’re stupid,” she managed, her hatred giving her away. Gone was her sweet compliance—he’d started it, she reminded herself. He’d pushed his fingers back into her body and deserved every ounce of fight he got.

“Go through my phone,” Elain managed, sliding onto the floor at his feet. “Read the texts, Lucien.”

He hovered over her in his wet shirt. “And you think that’ll prove you’re not lying?”

She almost laughed.

“Just read them."

~*~

Lucien dumped Elain on the floor of his bedroom. Naked and still wet from the bath, he thought the sight of her dripping all over the hardwood was far too erotic. She was looking up at him with such hatred, even when he tossed a towel at her to dry herself off. Walking to his dresser for a shirt, Lucien decided they’d need ground rules if they were going to get through this.

“Let me explain how this is going to go,” he murmured, holding the shirt in his hand while Elain tried to cover her body with the plush, ivory towel. “You’ll sleep in my bed or you’ll sleep like a dog on the floor. You’ll wear my shirt or you’ll wear nothing at all. You’ll eat from my hands or you’ll starve. Do you understand?”

“I hate you,” she whispered.

“I don’t recall asking you to love me,” Lucien replied blithely. “But if that changes, I’ll let you know. Do you understand, Elain? Those are your only choices.”

“They aren’t choices at all,” she whimpered, her anger fading to fear again.

“Sure they are,” Lucien disagreed. “Do you want the shirt?”

She hesitated. Lucien dangled it just out of reach, hooking the collar with a long finger as he waited. He almost hoped she didn’t, that Elain dragged this whole thing out for days just so he could stare at her perfect body without having to work so hard.

“Yes,” she finally whispered, her humiliation evident.

“Good girl,” he praised, dropping it at her feet. Elain scrambled, yanking the too-big fabric over her head. She twisted the towel around her hair and Lucien decided, for now, he’d allow it. He wanted to see water drip from her long, loose curls over the shirt until he could see the outline of her wet tits. Lucien hadn’t forgotten how it felt to rub soap over them.

“Get in the bed, Elain,” he murmured, turning again for a spooling of rope sitting casually on his dresser. She went tight when she saw it.

“Please, Lucien–”

“What did I say about begging?” he warned with a cruel smile. “My cock has been hard all night. Beg me again.”

She pressed her lips together, arms wrapped around her chest.

“Get in the bed.”

And she did this time, carefully climbing onto the wine red duvet. She laid her head among his pillows, scooting until she was comfortable. “I won’t run.”

“I know you won’t,” he agreed, coming for her ankle first. “Hard to run when you’re tied to my bed.”

She closed her eyes when his hands slid up her leg, pushing aside the fabric of his shirt so he could stare at her pussy while he worked. She was truly pretty everywhere, a fact that Lucien didn’t know entirely how to deal with. She was is prisoner—wanting to fuck her should be low on his list. It was entirely too high. He swallowed, binding her other ankle while trying to come up with any excuse to bury his face against her.

Hardly a punishment, to eat her out. Lucien shook his head. He was acting pussy struck, like a teenage boy who’d just seen porn for the first time. He’d eaten more pussy than he could count, could have left her, trekked back in the city, and had someone on his face in twenty minutes. Hell, a quick scroll through his phone could bring any number of women crawling to his door.

And he knew if he did, his thoughts would still be consumed by hers. They were on borrowed time and he knew it. The only thing Lucien could hope for was to get what he needed out of her before he gave in to those fucking urges.

“When you can be trusted,” he murmured, taking her wrist to tie to the headboard, “We won’t have to do this anymore. You can roam around my house like a little pet.”

“I’m not a pet, Lucien, I’m a person–”

“You’re a pet,” he interrupted with irritation. Obviously she was a person. “I’ve been trying to get close to you for months. Graysen keeps you leashed.”

“Until he broke up with me,” she began. Lucien rolled his eyes.

“Mm, of course,” he replied, climbing up the bed to straddle her chest. What would she look like sucking down his cock? She went stiff beneath him, eyes clamped shut. Too slowly, Lucien reached for her last arm, wrapping rope over her bruised skin. “Every word you say is a lie, Elain. How can you beg to be untied when you can’t even be honest?”

Her eyes flew open. “I’m not lying.”

“Here’s what I know. Graysen says he’s told you everything. You say you haven’t. Someone is lying and I’m inclined to believe it's you.” Elain swallowed hard, a tear sliding down her cheek. Having bound her, Lucien got off her body with only minimal grinding against her pretty, soft breasts.

“Think on it, Elain. You’ve got time.”

“I’ll be here forever,” she moaned, tugging at her restraints, testing to see if Lucien had done them well. If she didn’t fight they wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t mark her up or bruise her. Elain was too rough, too upset. She’d calm down in time.

“Can I ask you something?”

Elain’s hatred could have burned the whole house to the ground.

“What did you see in him?”

“Jealous?” she taunted, eyes glassy and bright.

Yes.

Lucien scoffed. “If it were my girl tied up in another man's bed, the whole city would feel my wrath.”

“I’m not his girl,” she reminded him, pulling at her arms and legs furiously. “He ended things! He’s not coming for me!”

“He will. You know too much,” Lucien replied, turning to the door.

“Lucien, come back here!” she screamed angrily. “Lucien!”

He snapped the door behind him angrily. Elain began her high pitched yelling again, begging and crying and cursing as he walked away, leaving her in his room. It did bother Lucien that Graysen hadn’t made a threat. His phone was utterly devoid of promises of violence—unless Eris counted.

He fished her phone from the clothes he’d cut off her the night before. No texts from Graysen or anyone, for that matter. Lucien scrolled absently, drinking in her sunsoaked life. Everything was filtered and angled carefully, like she could hide the ugliness if she merely sanitized the world.

What Lucien learned, other than Elain did not keep any nudes, was no one was looking for her. She’d said as much but everything Elain said was suspect to him. He’d been with her for four years. Elain Archeron knew more than she was willing to admit, was too calm for someone who claimed to be ignorant.

Lucien could break her.

~*~

Lucien didn’t return that night or the next morning. By the time he sauntered up, Elain was wondering if she was going to have to wet the bed like a baby or if this was part of his sadism. Lucien pushed open the door with his foot, more food in hand. His eyebrows shot up when he recognized the relief on her face.

“Miss me?”

“Bathroom,” she begged. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

He sighed, walking around the bed to set the tray on the side table. “You’re welcome, Lucien–”

“Do you seriously want me to feel gratitude?” she scoffed while he began unknotting her restraints.

“That depends. Do you want to go outside today? Or do you want to spend it in my bed? I’d prefer you in my bed, but—”

“Outside?” she breathed. He kept the windows so tightly curtained that Elain hadn’t seen the sun in what felt like forever.

“Yes, princess. Outside. For a little fresh air and maybe a nice conversation.”

Of course. He’d let her go under the assumption she’d comply. Elain kept her lips pressed together, not bothering to remind him that she knew nothing. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d ground her to dust. Why help him do that? Lucien freed her, hand spanning the entirety of her upper arm. He guided her to the bathroom attached to his bedroom with a shit eating grin.

“So close,” he taunted, turning his back while she relieved herself.

“Where did you go?” she asked. She felt less humiliation this time–it was just the dynamic, their push and pull. Where he thought she’d go, given the window was the size of a postage stamp and likely dropped sickeningly, Elain couldn’t say.

“I got you a few nice things,” he replied, his pleasure evident.

“Anything I’ll like?” Elain asked dryly, finishing up and walking to the sink. Lucien turned to survey her.

“Not everything is about you.”

His response made her shiver. “Are you going to kill me?”

He frowned. “I get you a gift and you assume I mean to kill you?”

“You pointed a gun at me two days ago,” she reminded him, not bothering to add that he’d also shoved her head beneath the bath water. Lucien only shrugged, unrepentant.

“Can’t blame me for trying, princess. A lot of people fold when I push a gun beneath their jaw. Imagine…you could be back home right now if you had just told me what I wanted to know. Instead we’re forced to play this song and dance.”

“It’s not a song and dance if it’s true,” Elain hissed. Lucien merely gestured for her to follow him out, ignoring the food she was very much interested in. He led her, barefoot, over sleek wood floors with autumn colored runners. White and gold walls lay most bare—the art looked as if it belonged to an Applebees. Sanitized, generic, utterly unremarkable. If she told the police what she found, it would be difficult to describe anything that didn’t exist in a million other homes.

A winding, mahogany bannister took her down two flights of steps to the open living area. It was so normal. No chains hanging from the high beamed ceiling. Just a nice, leather couch that sat against a cream colored rug. A remote pointed towards a framed television, empty and dark though tantalizing all the same. The whole floor was open, giving way from the living room to the massive kitchen. It was the sort of kitchen Elain could only dream of.

Lucien breezed past her for the stack of bags sitting in one of the chairs by the large windows. Elain crept towards the kitchen, wondering if he’d let her use it. She needed something to do, was so utterly bored staring at nothing day after day. No one to talk to, nothing to occupy her thoughts. Just the creeping dread he’d never return.

Lucien pulled black tissue paper from one of the nice bags, unwrapping it with a shit eating grin. She understood immediately what amused him so.

Not everything is about you.

Clearly, if the hot pink lacy panties and see through mesh cover-up hanging from his fingers were any indication. “I saw these and thought of you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” she grumbled. Lucien prowled forward.

“Put it on for me. Dance a little.”

Elain snatched them from his hands when he rubbed them against her cheek. “I’m not dancing, Lucien.”

“A shame. I might tie you to the kitchen if I liked it.”

Elain sighed heavily. He nodded to the buttons on her shirt, taking a step back. Leaning against the back of the sofa, Lucien crossed his arms over his dark vest, eyes hungry. Elain pulled the underwear over her bare body, annoyed by how it slid between her ass cheeks. She might have liked that had the circumstances been different, if he’d asked her out like a normal man–

But they weren’t. He was a monster, eyes latched to her breasts that were wholly see through beneath the coverup.

“Breakfast outside?” he asked conversationally, gesturing to the sliding glass door at the end of the room. “You can sit in my lap and I’ll feed you.”

Elain didn’t bother to reply to that. She merely waited for him to pull open the door and allow her to go out. It was chillier than she’d expected. Gloomy, too. Forest blanketed her on all sides, tree tops still cheerful green. It could have been winter for all she knew, for all she cared.

The deck dropped into murky lake water. The lake was the only thing breaking up the hilly forest side. Elain was in the middle of nowhere, utterly alone.

Lucien came behind her, pressing his body against her back. “Go ahead,” he murmured, brushing his fingers over the nape of her neck. “Scream.”

“I thought we were going to eat,” she replied, still staring at the water. Elain could swim. Lucien brushed his lips over the shell of her ear.

“How I wish,” he whispered before he released her, unaware of the uncomfortable zap of electricity he’d drawn. He vanished back inside, likely jogging up for his tray of food. Elain had no doubt he’d do exactly as promised, would torment her in his lap, with his fingers and hands and worse. She suspected she knew what he meant when he said he wanted to eat and Elain was too worried she might not fight him at all if he tried.

She scrambled for the wooden edge of the deck and without daring to let herself think, flung herself off the edge. Elain managed not to scream, though the loud splash was atrocious for a quiet escape. Please don’t hear, please don’t hear—

The water was freezing. She hadn’t been prepared for how cold it would be. Her lungs contracted, desperate for air far sooner than she’d hoped. Her skin screamed with frigid fire, the water stabbing like knives between her ribs. Elain forced herself to move, to kick her feet, to not come up for air until she absolutely had to.

When she did, it was merely a quick gulp of autumn scented air before she plunged back into the blue green depths. Who knew how long it would take him. For all Elain knew, Lucien was still inside, utterly unaware of what she’d done.

It was too much to hope, too stupid of a plan. Her body ached, not from the exertion but the seeping cold. Every stroke of her arms became heavier the longer she went, her ribs practically cracking beneath the pressure. Elain resurfaced to gather her bearings. There was no one around—just the whispering trees and Lucien’s empty house. He didn’t know, at least. She let herself breathe, just for a moment.

A hand grabbed her ankle, yanking her back beneath the water. Elain only had time to gasp for air before she felt him push against her head, holding her beneath the surface. She writhed against him, shoving and kicking until he let her come back up for air.

Lucien could have been an immortal god for all his vicious fury. He grabbed her chin so hard she cried out, forcing her to look at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Let me go–!” he shoved her back beneath the water even as he began to swim them back. Elain scratched over his shirt, ripping apart buttons to get at skin, to hurt him.

Lucien dragged her back to the surface, holding her against him, one hand ripping hard into her hair. “Stupid, princess. Brave, but entirely too stupid.” She opened her mouth to plead, catching the promised violence in his gaze. It was over. Lucien had her and was bringing her back.

Elain could do nothing but cry.

~*~

After the debacle with the lake, Lucien put distance between himself and Elain. She stared at him with dead eyes for days, refusing to speak at all. She wouldn’t eat, either, which was beginning to become a problem. He was curious to see how long she’d go but on the fifth day of nothing but forcing water down her throat, Lucien had enough. She’d been in the house for a week and despite her little show of spirit, Elain seemed broken.

He was getting nowhere with her. Graysen had ignored the text he’d sent despite how utterly sexy Lucien found it–Elain, naked, tied up in bed. Lucien would have come looking for that woman even if he hadn’t known her. He doubted Graysen was getting some sort of top tier pussy that made Elain look like trash.

She didn’t even look at him when he walked in. No real food—not in the way it mattered. But sweet things he’d once seen in her bakery. Lucien sighed, releasing the ties on her ankles first, and then her wrists. She was in another white, lacy thing that made his cock ache miserably.

Not now, he ordered his body, climbing onto the bed to pull her in his lap. “I don’t know anything,” she whispered through cracked, chapped lips.

“I didn’t come to ask you questions,” he said. “I came to make you eat.”

She turned her head at the delicate pink macron in his hand. It practically screamed her name. Lucien had been drawn to them, had bought fifty on a whim before turning for other little treats. Something must tempt her.

“Stop it,” she whispered when he pushed it against her lips.

“Don’t make me feed you like a bird,” he threatened. “You can’t kill yourself in my bed–”

“Because you want to?” she asked, turning those dead eyes on his face. Lucien couldn’t help himself. He brushed a thumb over her cheek.

“Just tell me,” he all but pleaded. She pressed her lips together. Time for a new tactic.

“You know, when I was fifteen my father took me to this very house. Just me and him. Told me it was time to learn how to be a man. I, foolishly, thought he was going to hire a prostitute and literally turn me into a man.”

Elain didn’t react to that.

“For two weeks he tortured me in the basement. Just enough food and water to keep me from breaking. Asking me questions day and night.”

Pity shuttered through her gaze. “Your father did that?”

Lucien hesitated. “Yes. Because he understood I’d be strapped down somewhere with too many secrets in my head. Just like Graysen knew—”

“Graysen,” she scoffed. Lips parted, Lucien shoved that little cookie into her mouth. Elain spluttered but chewed, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “You went to Lara’s.”

“How could you possibly know that?” he demanded.

“I know some things. Lara’s French bakery is the finest in the city. I know it well. If only you wanted a recipe. I could help you, then.”

Lucien readjusted her in his lap, holding up the black and gold foiled box. She took another.

“Good girl,” he praised, thinking of what his brother's wife had told him when Lucien had called to complain. This had been her, once. Some wealthy captain of industry's daughter, captured for cash, tied up by Eris. Lucien didn’ know the specifics, though he did recall a vibrator had been used as a means of compliance. Lucien had one downstairs but Arina had suggested praise first.

It worked on me.

Obviously. She’d fucking married Eris.

Lucien didn’t need to take things that far. He just wanted her to trust him enough to tell him where Graysen buried his bodies before he released her back into the world.

“Eat another,” he murmured. “And I won’t tie you up tonight.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She twisted to look at him, her hope as endearing as it was pathetic. “Really?”

“Yes,” Lucien agreed, not bothering to mention that he fully intended to sleep in here tonight. He’d bathe her again in the morning with nothing but soft touches, would feed her from his own hands, would treat her like a well trained pet until Elain came to expect that softness. Wanted it. She’d tell him, then.

Elain ate another without protest while Lucien pretended it didn’t fill him with immense relief. He slid her off him to walk to the bathroom. Elain had picked up another, looking at the treat with glazed eyes. “Do you want something else?” he questioned. “A vegetable, perhaps?”

“I know what you’re doing,” she murmured, dropping the cooking back into the box. “You’re nice and I…Lucien, if I knew something I would have told you. Let me go. I won’t say anything–”

“You stay,” Lucien interrupted. Even if he’d wanted to send her back, Eris had ordered her to stay as she was while they tracked Graysen. He’d left the city momentarily, had gone up north to the mountains where their state’s capitol city was housed. Lucien agreed with Eris that it had something to do with Elain. Graysen was jumpy, always surrounded by bodyguards, always driving around in his armored cars when he did leave—which was rare.

It was only a matter of time. Lucien had taken Elain’s sundress and nailed it to Graysen’s front door days earlier. Ripped, and covered in Tanwens blood, it sure was a sight. Graysen hadn’t left his apartment since, was likely working overtime trying to figure out where she was being held, how he could retrieve her…what little secrets had spilled from her lips. Lucien would have been proud if Elain was his girl—she’d weathered captivity over a week without telling him anything useful.

Lucien would never have let her be taken, if she was his. That was neither her nor there.

Elain’s expression faded back to that hopeless disappointment. “Get up,” he told her. “You need a shower.”

She balked which shouldn’t have filled him with the punch of lust it did. Untied and practically naked. Elain scrambled for the door. He laughed, still thinking about her sopping wet body on the deck and how he’d nearly fucked her against the wood. He’d watched her jump, had been so insanely turned on that the cold of the water was the only thing that had allowed him to swim without a raging erection. He could still feel her cunt wrapped around his fingers when he grabbed her, legs flailing. “There she is,” he murmured, running his tongue along the side of her neck. “There’s my pretty girl.”

“I hate you!” she screamed, slamming the back of her head into his chest.

“No you don’t,” Lucien snapped, setting her just in front of the glass shower. “Who has ever taken such good care of you? Hm? Not Graysen, he’s hiding like a coward in his apartment. Not your family, either, from the sounds of it.”

“You have me tied to a bed!” she reminded him furiously.

Lucien frowned. “Yeah. And? I don’t have to feed you or bathe you or kiss your pretty pussy.”

A soft gasp slipped from her lips. Lucien pulled the top of her lingerie over her head, leaving her just in that lacy fucking thong. He wanted to eat her in it, wanted to push the fabric aside and fuck her stupid while the lace slid all over his cock.

His control was fading and he knew it. He wanted to watch her come again. Lucien glanced towards the shower and its removable head…he would watch her. He’d watch her and then he’d go downstairs and beg his brother to let her go, if only so he could be freed of his own torment.

Sliding to his knees, Lucien let his breath warm her cunt. Fuck fuck fuck. Did she know? He didn’t dare look, would have lost his temper if he saw even a hint of knowing on her face. Maybe this was Graysen’s game.

Standing, having removed her of her panties, he felt stupid. Elain, with her wide, liquid eyes and her teeth biting that plush lower lip. He doubted Elain even knew she could wield that sort of power. He could have taught her.

Lucien could have taught her a lot of things. Instead, Lucien reached into the shower and turned it on, nodding at the door. “Get in.”

Elain scrambled beneath the water, eyes never leaving him. Good. Let her watch him pull off his shirt, eyes widening at what she found. Let her eyes snag on his fingers sliding to his pants, to the cock that sprang free, hungry and desperate for maybe the first time in his life. He’d never wanted anyone or anything as badly as he wanted her. She turned her eyes back to the white tile, unaware of how utterly appealing she was with water dripping down her perfect body. He wished he could take a picture of it, something he could look back on for the rest of his life.

He slipped in behind her, towering over her petite frame. “Turn,” he murmured, reaching over her for the shower head. Elain presented her back and that magnificent cascade of golden brown curls. As he rinsed her hair, Lucien began to wonder about her. Who was she? Why this woman?

“What will you do when I let you go?” Lucien murmured, his free hand sliding through the strands of her hair.

Elain’s whole body went rigid for a moment. “I won’t tell the police–”

“Sweetheart, you’ve been dating mafic for four years. I’m well aware you’re not calling the police.”

She exhaled noisily. “Well I didn’t know that.”

Lucien let the spray head linger on her spine while he reached for the shampoo bottle behind him. “Of course not. All men have bloodstained hands and work twenty-four seven hours. It’s easy to mistake an accountant for the head of a crime family, after all.”

“We never lived together,” she protested softly, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “For the first year I thought…”

“Lean,” he murmured, too fascinated for his own good. Elain tipped her head back, eyes closed and Lucien rinsed.

“What did you think?” he questioned.

“That we were going to get married. It was like…it was like something out of a movie. We spent time together, he was always taking me on last minute trips or surprising me with flowers and dinner and gifts. He said he wanted a family, wanted to get married…some weekends he’d drive me upstate to Velaris—”

Lucien’s whole body went tight at the mention. Graysen had just been there. He said nothing, waiting.

“To walk me through houses we might buy. His mom lives up there, he wanted to be close to her.”

Lucien was definitely going to make her come, now. Not as punishment, but reward. Did she realize what a gift she’d just inadvertently given him?

“What happened?” he asked casually, slicking conditioner through the ends of her hair.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, shoulders curving inward. Like she’d spent more time than he could ever have dreamt of trying to tease this one out. “He stopped coming over as often. He’d be distant…moody. That second year was difficult. Work was riding him and…”

Lucien’s fingers were gripping the shower head so tightly it hurt. “And?”

Elain looked over her shoulder at him, water dripping down her cheeks. “I’m sure you know, given your own proclivity for violence–”

“He hit you?”

Elain laughed. “Is that the line, then? You’ll kill and kidnap but hitting a woman—”

“Not my woman,” Lucien interrupted furiously. “Why did he hit you? What reasons did he give?”

“I just pushed a lot,” she said, eyes slipping to the floor. “I wanted things to go back to how they were.”

“Come sit down,” Lucien told her, gesturing to the bench behind them. “So I can wash you.”

“What about you?” she asked, pausing for a moment. “Who will wash your hair?”

His cock bobbed dangerously between his legs, brushing against this abdomen. “Are you offering?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Lucien offered her the showerhead, ignoring the fact that he was at least a foot taller than her. It was absurd—she was his prisoner and yet Lucien wanted her to touch him so badly he didn’t care how she did it.

“Keep talking,” he demanded against the squirt of soap. At least she might tell him something she wouldn’t think was important. Graysen had a mother he loved, did he? Up in Velaris? Had he gone to secure her, assuming Elain would tell? “The second year was hard, what about the third and fourth?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, nails raking over her scalp. Lucien nearly gripped his cock. He was going to, was so close to forcing her to her knees. “He’d tell me he’d booked us a week in the Bahamas and then while we were there he’d work from his computer. He’d take me to Paris but he’d hit me so hard the first night we couldn’t go anywhere. I was always confused. He’d be so angry and then so sweet, would apologize for days and I guess…”

Her hand shook as she sprayed soap off his scalp. Lucien couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped him. Her breasts were slick against his bare back, her body radiating heat. He was a monster for liking this when she was confessing.

“After a while it's just, you’ve spent so much time with someone it feels wrong to leave. He was cheating, though, and I confronted him—you asked about my birthday? He didn’t come because he was with another woman–”

“He didn’t come because he was murdering my friend,” Lucien corrected, his words too husky to be angry. Elain was smoothing conditioner through the ends lovingly, taking great care to ensure she coated all the stands. “I heard him call you that night.”

“He didn’t,” she said flatly. “I waited. I stared at the front door all night, phone in hand. He didn’t call me.”

“I heard him,” Lucien insisted. “I took his phone, it was your name, your picture. It was how I found you.”

“It wasn’t!” she protested. Lucien turned, nearly sending her sliding to the ground. He wrenched the shower head from her hand, jamming it back into its holster against the wall. Warm water splattered against them both. Lucien pressed her against the wall, grabbing her wrist and fisting her hand against his cock. Elain tried to pull back but Lucien’s grip was ironclad.

“You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t answered that call,” he told her. “I wouldn’t have known who you were. Elain, with her pretty tits–”

“What are you talking about?!” she demanded, her wet hand still stroking him. Lucien used his other arm to brace himself against the shower, his breath coming in ragged, desperate pants. She was so soft, her small hand just barely fitting against his thick shaft. He was going to come all over her pretty stomach before he spread her out and watching her cunt quiver beneath the water pressure.

Lucien couldn’t even smile. “His picture for you in his phone is your bare tits.”

“You’re looking at them right now,” Elain hissed, forcing his gaze down. “Do they look like the ones you saw in that photo?” she demanded. Fuck, Lucien couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember any tits before the soapy pair in front of him.

Lucien didn’t answer, dragging her hand over his cock as he chased the overwhelming pleasure of her wet body against his own, touching him even if she didn’t want to be. “Lucien,” she pleaded, catching his gaze. He had to resist the urge to kiss her.

“You’re next,” he promised, forgetting what he was supposed to be doing in here. Her grip tightened, he imagined in punishment but it was enough. It was her touching him because she wanted to be and Lucien didn’t hold back. He came with a furious grunt, lowering his head to watch the ropes of come splatter against her stomach. His cock throbbed from release, his whole body trembling and spent. Over one hand job. Lucien didn’t want to know what would happen when he got his cock buried in her sweet pussy.

“Sit down, Elain,” he ordered, his words far too breathless to be terrifying.

“I told you what I know,” she whispered. Lucien didn’t respond, merely jerking his head to the wet, stone bench.

She ducked beneath his arm, taking the two steps to sit, her legs comically pressed together. Lucien stared at her perky tits, wondering if they were the same pair. He hadn’t looked too carefully, in his defense. Only the name and its pink little flower emoji. That fit her well enough.

“You’re filthy again,” he murmured, noting his come branded against her flat stomach. “Let's clean you up so you can go to bed.”

He did soap her down, if only because she needed it and he wanted an excuse to touch her. Neither of them spoke, taking turns to watch the other. Only when he’d finished everything but her pussy, and his own cock had settled a little, did Lucien glance back up at her. “Spread your legs, Elain.”

“Lucien–”

“Do it.”

She kept them obnoxiously closed together. Lucien used his free hand to part them, setting one heel on the bench, and then the other. “If you close them, I’m going to punish you,” he warned. “You won’t like the punishment.”

“What is it?” she asked immediately, so she could decide if it was worth it to her or not.

“Find out,” he replied, changing the nozzle from a polite fall of rain to a concentrated jet. He sprayed it against her thigh so she had a sense of what was coming, could prepare herself. “Let me do something nice for you.”

“Lucien,” she whispered. He groaned louder than he needed to, turning the water against the opening of her cunt. Elain’s back arched, her fingers beneath the hands helping to hold her up.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Lucien. I love the way you say my name, princess.”

“Stop,” she whispered, not moving an inch. He wondered if she was worried about being tied back up. She ought to be worried about his cock. He wanted to push it into her pussy instead of teasing her with the water.

“I can’t,” he told her with far too much honestly. She whimpered when the water hit her clit.

“Tell me what Graysen told you that night,” he urged, pressing closer to watch the way that swollen nub of flesh jumped and danced beneath the stream. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing,” she moaned, eyes clamped shut. “Lucien, he didn’t call!”

“He said he loved you,” Lucien insisted, eliciting another cry, not of pleasure but pain. On his knees, Lucien looked up from between her legs. She was watching him, wide-eyed and miserable.

“It was someone else,” she panted. Lucien used the shower head to make the water circle over her clit, to tease and torment.

“Tell me and this is all over. One address, princess. Why are you protecting him? He’s not protecting you. He’s hiding.”

“Stop it,” she cried, her hips arching into the water. Her whole pussy was bright pink, swollen and needy. Lucien did as she said, watching the way her cunt gaped, aching at the loss. Elain herself gasped loudly, gulping huge breaths of air. Their eyes met.

“You want to come, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Everything you say is a lie, pretty girl,” he replied, irritated and disappointed. He pointed the water back on her clit, finessing the movements until Elain screamed, the sound echoing off the walls around them. Her hand slipped against the rough arching of her body, sending her tumbling into his lap. Lucien gripped her tightly, repositioning the nozzle so it was still spraying punshingingly against her.

“Tell me,”

“I don’t know,” she moaned, shaking her wet head back and forth. “I don’t know anything, I don—”

Another orgasm ripped through her. Lucien watched, awestruck. She was so fucking gorgeous, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy and dark. “Tell me,” he demanded as she writhed against him, making a mockery of how he wanted to feel her moving beneath him.

“Tell me!”

Another, and then another before Lucien relented. Tears streamed down her face when Lucien pushed her off him, standing to turn off the shower. He stumbled out, having forgotten there was a world at all beyond the confines of the steamed glass. He wrapped a towel around his hips before stepping back in for Elain, trembling on the floor, still sopping wet. Lucien wrapped her up in a towel before hosting her into his arms.

“Come on,” he murmured with too much affection. “Let's get you dressed.”

Elain pressed her head into his chest and nodded.

~*~

“Are you braiding my hair?” Elain asked one night, waking to the feel of Lucien’s fingers carding through her hair.

“Can’t sleep,” Lucien murmured. Elain didn’t turn to look at him though she could hear something she’d been finding more and more often in his voice over the last two and a half weeks.

“Want to talk about it?”

Lucien grunted. “You want to hear about my day?” he asked. No, she almost said. Elain very much did not want to know what he’d done or how brutal he truly was. His hands were comforting and Elain had stopped fighting him when he wanted to touch her hair. It did feel like an act of care, not just for her but for him, too. Lucien, she was learning, was a touch starved man. She thought she could break him by pressing a kiss against his cheek. She didn’t dare do it, not when she’d seen the monster appendage hanging between his legs. One day he was going to make good on his threats and put her on her knees.

“If you want to tell me.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you don’t know anything about Graysen?”

Graysen. How she’d come to hate him during her captivity. “He never admitted to having a bad day,” Elain replied. That was true enough. Graysen had never touched her like this, either. Sure he’d hugged and kissed and held her hands but it had always been possessive, always served him. Lucien’s fingers in her hair were about her. He’d told her, after that first shower, that he’d noticed how tangled her hair got. Elain had sat stock still, reeling from the torment from the shower, while Lucien had combed through her curls and neatly parted and braided french tails against her head. And when she woke—unbound, just as he’d promised—the next morning, her hair had fallen in pretty waves he’d stared at all day.

“Smart,” Lucien said dryly, banding one of the braids neatly. Her hair was dry today, which she supposed was why she only got a half braid. She turned, clad in the hot pink from her attempted lake escape.

“I saw you went to the kitchen today,” he murmured, hovering over her with his handsome scarred face. “Did you bake?”

“I tried,” she admitted, clamping her thighs together. “There wasn’t enough to do more than banana bread.

“Am I allowed to eat it?”

She ignored the pang of longing. What was happening to her bakery. She’d lost almost three weeks of revenue. Elain was just barely making it working six days a week. If he held her for a month or more, she wouldn’t have rent. Elain very much doubted Lucien was going to help her with that.

“Who else would?”

“Good, because I hate half,” he admitted ruefully, brushing his fingers over her forehead. Lucien, the man who had a gun beneath his pillow, was so strangely affectionate when he wanted to be.

She knew this was a game, that he was trying to wear her down. Elain was already there. She wracked her brain when he wasn’t home, trying to think of anything Graysen might have said she could tell him that would prove she wasn’t unfailingly loyal. Surely Graysen slipped up even once. How would she even know? Elain hadn’t memorized every conversation, hadn’t expected she’d one day be quizzed on her relationship.

“Lay down,” Elain coaxed, scooting up the headboard. It was strange how her instinct didn’t immediately tell her to run anymore. She slid her hand beneath the pillow, intending to draw it closer to her chest when her fingers snagged on something cool and metal.

His gun.

Elain grabbed it quietly while Lucien sighed, flopping down just beside her. Heart pounding, she pulled it ever closer, until she could feel it beneath her head. Lucien, who was so used to the way she slept, didn’t think anything of her cradling that pillow, unaware she was trying to right it so she didn’t withdraw it only to find the barrel pointed against her own chest. For a moment, she could picture how he’d laugh.

Why was she thinking about that at all?”

Lucien reached over, rubbing a calloused thumb over her cheek. “It was a stupid day. I liked the way the house smelled when I came home, though.”

“I could use more butter,” she told him breathlessly. Could she shoot him? Could she pull the trigger?

“I thought it tasted fine,” Lucien dismissed, leaning to turn off the bedside lamp. Elain moved the gun just in time for him to pull her against him, one muscular arm sliding beneath her neck. “Go back to sleep.”

As if she could. Holding the weapon, Elain hoped Lucien couldn’t feel her pounding heart or the slide of sweat over her skin. His breathing steadied, warming the back of her neck and for a moment, she almost abandoned her plan. He trusted her, now. He trusted her not to jump off the deck, to wander the house and watch television or bake or whatever mundane thing helped pass the time when he wasn’t around. He’d stopped tying her up. If she failed, he’d almost certainly rebind her to the bed.

Elain counted her breaths before she slid out of his arms. That was hardly usual, either. He didn’t follow her into the bathroom anymore. Holding the gun in her shaking hands, Elain willed herself to be a different sort of creature. To be him, instead of herself. She pressed the barrel beneath his jaw, noting the way his lips curled into a smile though his eyes never opened.

“You get one shot, princess,” he murmured.

“I’ll do it,” she replied, hating the quaver in her voice.

“Mmm,” he agreed, rolling very carefully onto his back. He looked at her, his face dimmed in the dark. “Why don’t you give me the gun and come back to bed. I’ll pretend this never happened.”

She cocked the gun loudly. Lucien’s amusement never faded.

“I want you to take me home,” she told him. “I want you to put on pants–

“No pants for you, though?”

She swallowed. “I…”

“I don’t mind, of course. It’ll cost me an arm and a leg to get the wet print of your pussy off my leather seats, though.” Her heart pounded. What was wrong with him?

“Take me home.”

“And what happens when you get there?” he crooned. “Who will hold you while you sleep?”

“Lucien—!”

His hand clamped over her wrist, pressing the gun harder against his jaw. “Pull the trigger, baby. Do it. Blow me to pieces and steal my car keys. Drive yourself home. You have to know you can’t pull off a successful hostage situation. I’m twice your size. Kill me and leave. Any sane person would…I wouldn’t even blame you.”

She was crying now, the gun only in her hand because Lucien was making her. “Be my good girl,” he taunted. “Shoot me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning her head. Lucien surged forward, prying the weapon from her fingers and tossing it to the end of the bed.

“How long have you been planning that?” he asked, pinning her beneath him. Elain just wept. There was no escape, no going home. He asked again to no answer, only her loud, strangled sobs. She felt his heavy sigh, felt him release her to take his gun and to get the rope.

“I thought we were past this,” he murmured, taking her ankle with a feather soft touch.

“I want to go home!” she screamed when she felt the rope bite into her skin. Elain writhed, kicking and fighting, slapping at his face until he shoved her back.

“You know how to go home,” he said coldly, coming around the bed for her wrist. “You’re dragging this out. I don’t want to be her, either.”

“I hate you,” she gasped through her wrenching tears.

“Then you should have fucking killed me,” he snarled. “Think about that while you sleep alone.”

“Lucien,” she gasped, realizing he was going to leave her. “Lucien, wait—!”

He slammed the door behind her, leaving her utterly alone.

Come back.

Elain screamed.

~*~

“How long am I supposed to keep her here while he’s out fucking whores?” Lucien grumbled, rubbing at the gashes on his arms from Elain and her fucking nails. She was inside the house screaming again, tied back up. Not in the guest bed—Lucien had tied her to his bed. Still in his shirt which she wasn’t properly grateful for, given how much he liked seeing her naked.

He stood on the back deck to survey the lake. “It’s been three goddamn weeks. ”

“I’m going to confront him about her tonight. Do a little taunting. Have you fucked her?”

“Does it matter? Tell him I have. Tell him she loved it.”

Eris snorted. “I’ll bet.”

“She hasn’t said a word. Either she’s high up or she’s ignorant as fuck and I’ve got a civilian trussed up in our fucking house.”

“No one is looking for her,” Eris dismissed. “There is a sign on her door that she’s on vacation. We’ll figure it out afterwards.”

Lucien rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Just put a bullet in his brain and I’ll—”

“I want his operation,” Eris snarled. “Keep it together. I’ll be in touch.”

The line went dead, which was just as well. Lucien still had Elain’s phone on the edge of the deck. She’d gotten a text the night before, one he very much wanted to discuss with her. He’d started to believe she didn’t know anything. Not anymore.

Lucien sighed, flicking the screen back to life. It was a picture of wildflowers that greeted him, the overhead sunlight bathing that swaying field in near religious light. Who the fuck was this woman?

He trudged into the house, grateful she’d stopped screaming, at least. She’d become angry, was becoming vicious in her rage. Every step towards his bedroom made him harder, until Lucien was unbelting his pants and pulling himself from his trousers by way of greeting.

Elain watched through narrowed eyes when he stepped in. Just for fun, Lucien closed the door behind him—locking it loudly. Her eyes snagged on his cock.

“Lucien—” she warned.

“I love when you beg,” he murmured, stroking himself absently. No matter how the night played out, he intended to bruise the back of her throat. Elain went quiet, still staring at his thick, hard cock. Lucien walked to her, using his other hand to pull out his belt.

“Tell me something true, Elain,” he murmured when he reached her. She tried to turn away, body illuminated in the dim glow of the lamp on his dresser across the room. Lucien had to drop himself in order to wrap it around her neck and force her to look at him. “Tell me the last text Graysen sent you.”

It was an unfair game. She didn’t know the last text he’d sent. “He said to delete his number.”

Lucien chuckled. Graysen had said that, among her many, many pleading texts for him to explain why he’d been cheating.

“Wrong answer, pretty princess,” he replied, thrusting his hips forward to rub the head of his cock against her pillowy soft lips. She screwed up her face, nose wrinkled. “Try again.”

“That’s the last thing he sent,” she insisted. So true, and yet so wrong.

Lucien pulled her phone from his pocket, still rubbing his cock over her face. He couldn’t wait to see her suck it down, wanted to know how much she could take. He lit up her screen so she could see.

Don’t say a goddamn word.

All her revulsion slipped from her face, replaced with open shock. Elain blinked, ignoring him entirely. Her entire body went slack. “He…that’s what he said?”

Lucien had expected denial. Protest. Pleading. Not whatever this was.

“If you don’t know anything, why do you need to keep your mouth shut?”

He could see realization sliding over her features. Elain, who in all likelihood, knew nothing that was helpful, was piecing some little thing together. Something Graysen had slipped up, had shown her or told her that she’d never thought twice about. Elain’s eyes snapped to his face.

Tell me, he silently ordered. Her gaze drifted back to his cock.

“I don’t know.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” he snarled, pinching her nose roughly. Elain twisted her head until the belt looped tighter against her neck, forcing her to open her mouth to draw breath. Lucien surged forward, rougher than he should have, until she gagged loudly and he’d managed to get half of cock into her throat. She closed her lips, teeth pressing into sensitive skin.

Lucien slapped her lightly. “Don’t fucking think about it,” he warned, pushing further as warning. “Or you’ll find yourself literally choking.”

She would anyway. Elain readjusted, tears sliding down her cheeks though if it was anger or fear or just her difficulty breathing, Lucien didn’t know. He let go of the belt, leaving it just within grabbing distance in order to fist her hair.

“You’re going to be a really good girl and take everything I give you. And while you suck me down, you’re going to reevaluate the secrets you’re keeping because I can do this for hours.”

She whimpered, the sound vibrating against his already tight balls. He’d be lucky to do it for five fucking minutes. She was impossibly soft, her mouth so utterly warm and sweet. Lucien withdrew, watching her widen her jaw to draw a quick breath.

“Learn how to breathe through your nose,” Lucien ordered before thrusting back in, forcing himself another inch. Saliva flooded her mouth as she gagged, her body bowing off the bed.

Everything had to be a fight, he supposed. Lucien didn’t care. Pleasure pooled in his gut, drawing a ragged groan from his chest. The next thrust was harder, pushing himself root to tip into her mouth. She flailed, tugging at the bonds while he held himself there, counting to ten in his head before he pulled all the way back.

Ropes of saliva followed the drag of his cock and Lucien, unable to explain the affection coursing through him, rubbed her cheek with his free hand.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “I think you’re my little cockslut, princess.”

Elain whimpered again.

Lucien thrust into her throat, letting each new wet touch push him higher. “Suck,” he ordered, delighted when her cheeks immediately hollowed. “Good pet.” Whimpered gagging punctuated his words. “Are you going to swallow? Hm, Elain?”

She opened her eyes to look at him with blazing defiance. No. She’d take it, but she wasn’t going to like it. Lucien relished the thought of what he might do to make her regret whatever it was she was thinking. It was enough to drag Lucien over the edge, to pour himself into her throat. Elain gagged again, pulling at her restraints as come leaked over her lips and down her neck.

Lucien pulled himself out with a gasp, leaning towards her for a kiss. He needed to taste himself in her mouth, needed—

She spat in his face. “Asshole!” she shrieked. Lucien smiled, not bothering to wipe his own come from his cheeks.

“I’m starting to think you like this,” Lucien murmured, running a hand down her body. He didn’t bother to undress as he came to the edge of the bed, crawling between her legs.

“Lucien—”

He rubbed his cheek against her pussy, letting his come slide against her hot, wet flesh. It was a blatant threat, which she registered the moment he turned his face, rubbing the rest of the fluid she’d so graciously offered up all over her spread open cunt.

“If you want to be filled, Elain, all you have to do is ask.”

She smelled so fucking good. Lucien was still rock hard, still wanted more. He could have fucked her all night. Lucien pressed his head against her thigh. “When was the last time someone ate you out, Elain?”

She whimpered, angling her hips for all the good it did. Lucien merely pressed a hand against her stomach. “Weeks?”

No response.

“Months?”

She remained utterly quiet. Lucien chuckled.

“Years?” he breathed, his lips brushing her pretty hooded clit. “How did he stand it? I’m losing my fucking mind, do you know that? How sweet you smell? How pretty you are?”

She whimpered but curiously didn’t pull away. Lucien used the tip of his tongue to brush against her clit, watching the way her eyes rolled back into her head. If he had known how desperate she was, he could have just started here. Using the flat of his tongue, Lucien rubbed, still watching her every minute expression. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” he questioned. What a fucking crime, to have this woman in your bed and not spread her open. “Tell me.”

“No,” she managed, her voice raw from the abuse she’d taken moments before.

Lucien smiled. “Lucky me. Will you come, Elain? Will you make a mess of my face like a good girl? Hm?”

She didn’t respond, biting against her lower lip. Lucien licked again, the motion languid, exploratory. He let himself drag over her skin, taunting and teasing everywhere but the trembling little nub of flesh while Elain did her best to remain utterly still beneath him.

“Elain?” he breathed, his own control so tenuous. “Are you going to come on my face?”

More silence. Lucien wrapped his lips around her clit, roughly sucking until she cried out, tugging against her restraints. Her back arched, nipples pointed directly at the ceiling.

“Tell me,” he demanded, soothing the hurt with feather soft caresses. “Tell me not to stop.”

“Please,” she whispered but it wasn’t enough.

“Say the magic words,” he murmured, dipping into her cunt to fuck her with his tongue. She was so wet. His chin was already coated and fuck he needed to be in her. Lucien was just barely restrained.

Say it say it say it–

“Lucien please,” she begged when he went back to teasing, ignoring her clit entirely.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she all but sobbed.

“Are you going to make a mess of my face?”

“Yes,” she agreed, lifting her hips like an offering. Lucien groaned, eyes rolling into his skull. Thank you God.

He attacked her with ravenous hunger, her whimpering cries of pleasure music to his fucking ears. Had there ever been a sweeter pussy, he wondered? Certainly not a wetter one. Lucien was coming apart, licking and sucking, chasing each breathless moan. She said his name like a prayer, like it was the only word she knew.

“Lucien,” she pleaded. “Don’t stop–”

He sucked, using his tongue to lavish praise. Elain screamed, rolling and rocking her hips to chase that high. Lucien couldn’t stop, not when her cries turned to whimpers, not when she twisted to try and get relief. She’d done exactly as he’d hoped, coating him in her slick release as she tried to ride his face.

“Fuck,” he snarled, forcing himself out of her cunt to crawl up her body. “Fuck you, Elain.”

She nodded, pliant and soft beneath him. Lucien ground his cock against her sopping wet cunt. “You belong to me, now,” he told her, grabbing her jaw to look up at him. “Do you understand me?”

“No,” she replied.

“You’re mine,” he said stupidly, slotting his cock and pushing only an inch. Just enough to draw her out of her lust filled stupor. “I’m keeping you.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’re keeping me?”

He shoved, invading her body with a guttural grunt of need. “You’re mine,” he whispered into her neck, sliding his hand beneath the belt still wrapped around her. He could still feel the last vestiges of her orgasm pulsating around his bare cock. “I’m going to fill you up,” he groaned, snapping his hips until there was no space between them. Elain writhed, her breasts sliding against his slick chest.

“Like a pet?” she whispered.

He nipped hard enough to bruise, catching the skin beneath her neck with his teeth. “Pet,” he agreed. “Toy. Wife.”Her eyes fluttered shut. That last one, he thought, soothed her just enough to enjoy this. Lucien didn’t expect immediate compliance but he did assume eventual surrender. He’d give her up over his dead body. “Come for me,” he urged, rubbing her clit again, still soaked, still swollen and trembling. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

And she was. Elain whined, pressing her forehead into his chest.

“My good little cockslut?”

Elain whimpered, tightening around him.

“I’ll keep you bred full, Elain,” he panted. “Every night, every day. Just the way you like it, right?”

“Lucien,” she breathed, that little plea enough to nearly trigger a second orgasm. He had to clench his ass to keep himself from shooting, to keep his fingers moving.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, tightening his fingers around her throat. “Prove you’re mine.”

She arched, her cunt a fucking vice around him, sucking him deeper until Lucien couldn’t help himself. She forced that climax from him like she’d done it purposefully, milking every last drop of come like her pussy had been made to do nothing else. It was exquisite torture, heaven and hell all wrapped up.

“That was good. You’re so good,” Lucien praised, kissing her mouth over and over until she started to kiss him back. She was musky from his cock, her mouth just as sweet as the rest of her. The slide of her tongue spiked electric hot arousal back to the base of his cock, making him twitch with need.

“I like when you’re good,” he told her breathlessly, pulling himself out just to watch milky white come slide to the blue sheets beneath them. Lucien used the head of his cock to push it back into her cunt. “You take my cock so well.”

Elain nodded, limp against the bed. Lucien forced himself up, to unrestrain her as a reward he was sure he’d regret in the morning. Elain didn’t move other than to press her hand against her stomach. He padded towards the door, intending to unlock it just in case, to grab his gun from the dresser, and flop beside her.

“Are you leaving?” she breathed. Lucien smiled.

“Not at all.

~*~

Elain woke to the feeling of wet moving against her body. She shifted, so used to being bound that she all but slapped herself in the face.

“Good morning,” Lucien murmured against her cunt, sliding his tongue over her clit. The night before rushed through her consciousness, filling her with guilt and shame. She’d let him touch her and what was worse, she’d liked it. Wanted it. Begged him for it. Even now, Elain kicked at his bare shoulder only half heartedly. He didn’t budge, only sped up his mouth.

“It’s been twelve hours since I tasted you,” he panted, pulling her closer to his face. “I need breakfast, stop–”

She writhed until Lucien gripped her hips, digging them painfully into her skin. He flipped her onto her stomach and smacked her ass hard enough the air from her lungs escaped. “Stop it,” he grumbled, as if she’d merely inconvenienced him. “Or I’ll tie you back up.”

“You’ll leave me untied?” she breathed, secretly relieved. Lucien continued spreading her apart.

“I unloaded all the guns,” he agreed pleasantly. “I trust you not to do something stupid.”

Secretly pleased, Elain rubbed herself against him, face buried in the pillow while he alternated between filthy kissing and murmuring good girl. Elain could do whatever he wanted if he promised not to tie her up again, could let him flip her back over, his massive, thick cock in hand. He sheathed it back in her cunt without warning, not caring that her walls were still bruised from the night before.

“You take cock so well,” he panted, pressing the hard slab of his naked body against her. “My pretty cockslut.”

Elain brushed her fingers through his hair, letting him kiss her roughly. This was easier, she decided. She was hanging off a precipice, already too warm and willing after his mouth. Lucien didn’t use a condom, didn’t care if she was on birth control—which she wasn’t. To Elain, that could only mean he wasn’t concerned about the future.

She came roughly, violently beneath his punishing thrusts and his demanding hands, his teeth biting at her nipples so hard she was sure he’d left bruises. Lucien, too, roared his release, fucking her so hard the bedframe groaned and slapped against the wall. Holding himself in her long after he came, Elain wondered what he’d do if he made good on his promise to keep her filled.

“Graysen has a warehouse,” she breathed into the crook of his neck, his cock still buried in her body. “When we first began dating, he took me. I never went inside,” she added quickly when Lucien lifted his head to look at her. “I was half asleep, I didn’t think anything of it.”

“If I showed you a map, could you tell me where?” he asked, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. Finally. Finally, they were getting somewhere, though she was forced to concede that she couldn’t.

“What if I drove you out there?” Lucien asked, lips against her forehead. “Would you remember?”

The thought of getting in a car was so absurdly exciting that Elain said, “Maybe,” even unsure if she could. “I’d had a few glasses of wine…I fell asleep while he was inside.”

“You’ll try?” he asked, rolling his hips to punctuate the words. Was he still hard? Elain squeezed the walls of her pussy around him, stunned to find yes, he was.

“Will you take me home?”

Lucien pulled back, still rubbing her face. “Yes,” he agreed. “Show me and I will go to my brother so you can go home.”

Elain exhaled her relief. “Now?”

“No. Tonight, when it's dark. I don’t want him shooting my car,” Lucien grumbled, withdrawing from her entirely. “And you’re not going home tonight.”

Elain’s stomach plummeted. “Why?”

Lucien frowned. “He’ll know you told me. He’ll come after you—”

“That does you a favor, does it not?” she snapped angrily, drawing her knees up to her chest to rest her chin against them. Lucien went utterly still.

“You think I want Graysen to kill you?”

“I think if I died it would be one less thing for you to worry about. I can take care of–”

“Did you not hear what I said last night?” Lucien interrupted. “Wife.”

She sighed. “I’m not your wife.”

“Not yet,” he grinned, crossing the room, shoes in hand, to press a kiss against her cheek. “One thing at a time.”

She raised her hand to hit him. Lucien caught her quickly, russet eyes flashing a warning. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you. There are other holes I can stretch. Other positions I can put you in.”

Elain swallowed hard. Lucien lowered his mouth again, the smell of her body still lingering beneath the rich, warm spice of his masculine cologne. “Tell me you’re sorry.”

“Sorry.” She wasn’t and he knew it.

He released her anyway.

“So you’re going to guard me your whole life?” she asked him softly, heart thrumming in her throat. What did he mean, wife? Her heart pounded, half from fear, half from want.

“No. I’m going to kill Graysen so you’re not always looking over your shoulder,” he replied cheerfully. “Want breakfast?”

“I thought you already ate,” Elain grumbled, taking the shirt from Lucien’s hands. He’d offered up a red thong with a strappy, matching bra that Elain ignored. She’d take the underwear but after three weeks of living outside of a bras purview, she wasn’t about to put one on now. He hissed with approval at the sight.

“I’m always hungry,” he informed her, prowling forward to cup her breast through her shirt. A shift had happened, somewhere between them. He wanted her for more than just payback but Elain, too, was starting to find comfort in his touch. When he rolled the nipple between his fingers, it was pleasure and not shame that slid through her body.

“I could eat you against this wall,” he murmured, fingers still tormenting. “I’d like that very much.”

She exhaled a breath, head tilting so he could kiss her neck.

“Look at you,” he murmured appreciatively. “When's the last time someone told you how pretty you are?”

“You,” she gasped, his fingers rubbing against the fabric of her underwear.

“Mm,” he agreed. “Do you know what I would do if you’d been mine and someone took you?”

“No.”

His finger slid into her cunt. “I would have burned the city to the ground looking for you,” he whispered, his breath hot against the jaw. “I would have killed anyone who touched you and I would have brought you home that same night.”

She whimpered without meaning to. His words were doing something to her though she was loath to admit it.

“Christ, Elain,” he breathed against her neck as he pulled out his fingers so she could see them coated with the slippery wet of her body. Lucien pressed them against her lips, smearing the slick against her. It was an attempt to get himself under control—and one he failed miserably.

Grabbing her ass, Lucien hoisted her up against that wall before burying himself inside her with a punishingly rough stroke. Tears sprang to Elain’s eyes, her head dropping to his shoulder. Pain edged with pleasure had become her new norm and she hated how much she was starting to crave it. How alive she felt.

“You want this,” he breathed, thrusting hard. “You’re so fucking turned on. So am I.”

She whimpered, unable to pretend some dark part of her didn’t like the way he was fucking her. It was possessive and needy and desperate. He fucked her like he’d die if he stopped, like it was his mandate, his only purpose for living. Elain could only cling to him, mouth pressed against the fabric of his shirt. The heady, masculine scent of him invaded her senses just as surely as his cock invaded her body.

More, more, more. Even as release ripped through her, all she could think was she wanted more. More of his brutal touch, more of his demanding thrusts. Lucien gave it to her on instinct, covering her mouth with his to take even more, to force her to yield until she was nothing and no one.

He came roughly, groaning so loud anyone in the vicinity would have heard. They were alone, though, and the only person to witness Lucien’s spectacular surrender was Elain. He’d made himself vulnerable, had provided a weakness that was all too easy to exploit. Lucien walked her to the bed, withdrawing carefully as he smoothed hair off her face.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did she. Elain merely looked up at him, tentatively touching his face. Unbidden, unforced. Because she wanted to. Lucien leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut and she wondered if she couldn’t bring this terrifying man to his knees with little else. He said she was his.

But she wondered if he wasn’t hers, too.

~*~

It was dark by the time Lucien put Elain in his car and zipped them back into the city. She’d been quiet all day and Lucien had been too afraid to ask what she was thinking. Offering her more freedom felt foolish and yet Elain had padded into the kitchen with him and allowed him to make breakfast while she sat politely one one of the stools and watched. She’d instructed him on how to beat his eggs properly so they scrambled better and told him how she liked her toast.

She’d eaten with him on the deck, eyes wistful as she looked over the lake. Was she planning another escape? Or did she believe him when he said he’d let her go? Elain, who’d let him pull her into his lap while she watched a movie, head resting nicely on his chest. It was almost perfect—Lucien couldn’t decide if she was placating him or if she’d begun to like the way he touched her, too.

“Music?” he asked when the bright city lights began to glimmer ahead.

“Sure,” she agreed, forehead pressed to the glass. That look of yearning was back.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he demanded, his heart pounding in his throat.

“I’m thinking about my bakery,” she admitted. Lucien’s stomach dropped. Her little business was surely suffering. Lucien felt some guilt over that. He felt guilt over a lot of things he’d done—Elain didn’t know anything. It was apparent, obvious after her willingness to hand over the warehouse. Three weeks of holding her captive, of binding her and tormenting her for information only to learn she’d been telling the truth had left Lucien feeling rough. Like a bastard. He’d touched something he shouldn’t and instead of letting her go, he wanted more than he suspected she’d ever meant to give. He couldn’t free her the way she wanted and could only hope some part of her had come to feel the same.

“What about it?”

“Rent,” she admitted. Lucien immediately brightened as she continued. “Things are always really tight. I’m just thinking how I’ll get back on track…what I’ll tell my landlord—”

“I’ll pay it,” Lucien said quickly, drawing her attention back to him. He glanced from the windshield to her, reaching out a hand to touch her bare thigh. “It’s my fault…let me pay it. This month, if nothing else.”

Next month, next year, fuck the entire building. Elain’s shoulders relaxed even as she protested.

“You don’t have to do that. I can sell more–”

“I want to,” he insisted, swallowing his pride to add, “Please?”

Elain hesitated before placing her own hand over his, squeezing his fingers. “It’s too much–”

“It’s not enough,” he replied hotly, swallowing hard at her voluntary touch. “I…Let me do this.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “As an apology.”

A better man would have said sorry. Lucien felt guilt but he wasn’t sorry. Sorry implied he wished things had gone differently but had he never gone through Graysen’s phone, he never would have found her.

As if reading Lucien’s mind, Elain asked, “He really never came looking for me?”

Lucien gripped the wheel of his car roughly. “Never.”

“I wonder if he hoped you’d kill me,” she mused, her voice tight with hurt. “I really did love him, you know. Even if…”

Even if he was a monster.

“And if you’d known? Would you have loved him then?”

He wasn’t asking because he cared about Graysen. Lucien knew Elain understood the question.

Could you love me, knowing what I am?

What good was possessing her body if he never had her heart?

Elain turned back to the window. “Maybe. He never gave me the chance.”

Relief slammed into his chest. She knew exactly what he was. Lucien let her lapse back into silence, saying nothing himself until he idled outside of a familiar little store. Elain pressed her fingertips to her lips.

“Three days,” he murmured, squeezing her leg. “Give me three days.”

“Okay,” she replied, as if she had a choice. He hadn’t locked the door—she could have flung it open if she’d really wanted. She could have run screaming from his car, drawing the attention of her neighbors. Elain remained, still gripping his hand. It felt like trust.

A bastardized version, at least.

He wished he could have let her go inside so she could see Tanwen had cleaned it all up. No rotting food, nothing spoiled. Unsure if that would make things better or worse, Lucien merely drove off, winding his way towards the warehouses by the river. The whole place reeked of the metallic stench of rotting blood. No amount of fishing could cover that smell. Lucien knew it too well.

Within that winding maze of weathered corrugated metal and shipping crates stacked atop each other lay the decaying remains of both his brothers. Lucien didn’t let Elain see his tension as he drove, waiting for her to give him directions.

“Closer to the water,” she murmured. “I remember thinking the moon looked pretty reflecting off the water.”

It was something only someone like Elain would notice. Surrounded by violence and death, she’d somehow found the only beautiful thing that could possibly exist. It was helpful, at least. Lucien turned the wheel, noting how she straightened as they approached a particularly dilapidated white building.

“That,” she whispered. “I remember the cracked window.” Lucien committed to memory, not stopping as he continued forward. He hand his phone in hand, texting the location to Eris even as they pulled back onto the main road, hardly the only car out so late.

“You did perfect,” he whispered, stroking his thumb against her inner thigh. He would have kissd her if he hadn’t been so focused on everything else. Lucien smiled when his phone vibrated against his knee, drawing his attention back to the screen.

Let’s burn it to the motherfucking ground.

Lucien couldn’t help his smile.

Finally.

A little fucking fun.

~*~

“You’re leaving?” Elain asked, twisting in bed. Lucien sat at the edge of the mattress, pulling on steel-toed boots so at odds with his usual designer attire. He was going to handle Graysen, had promised her three days. It was day two.

Did it make her a bad person for hoping Lucien killed Graysen as retribution for her time spent with the Vanserras? Elain waited for the guilt she knew ought to come but only hope remained, bloomed brightly like a fresh spring flower.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he replied easily, though his face was tight. “You won’t do anything stupid while I’m gone?”

“I thought I might like to swim,” she replied, earning a sharp tap against her ass cheek for her trouble.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled. “Watch a movie. Why don’t you bake me something sweet—”

“I’m not your wife—”

“Not yet,” he reminded her with that infuriatingly certain tone of his. She hated how smug he was, how sure…even as Elain was starting to reconcile the fact that once she left, she was hoping to see him again.

“Why don’t you make me some nice, chocolate cupcakes and when I return, I’ll feed you my cock as a reward.”

She scoffed, ignoring how her stomach clenched in response.

“If you return.”

Lucien smiled, standing quickly. “So true. I could die…and who will rescue you, then?”

She scowled. “Try not to die.”

Lucien twisted to where she lay, utterly naked after the ravenous way he’d gone after her after they’d returned. Lucien had been insatiable, driven by a need Elain thought belonged in stories and not real life. Over and over, unable to to quench whatever writhed beneath his skin. What she wanted hardly mattered though privately, what she wanted was the man beneath his armor of cruelty, the only that seemed possessed by fire and heat. He touched and tasted every inch of her, driving into her body until she could off him nothing else.

Panting and spent, she’d pulled him against her rather than the other way around, letting him press his sweaty cheek against her breasts, fingers raking through his hair. She’d never be able to explain what was happening here. He was her enemy.

A monster.

She thought she might like him.

Was worried she was even in love with him. It was surely some psychological phenomenon easily explained and yet Elain was sad when he only kissed her cheek. “I’m coming back for you.” She nodded, grazing her fingertips beneath his freshly shaven jaw.

“Pretty princess,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against her own. “How I hate the thought of giving you up.” She didn’t have anything to say to that, so Elain said nothing at all. Lucien pulled back, regret etched against his handsome face. “The house is yours. Do whatever you like.” And that was that.

Elain spent the first hour of her new-found exploring. While Lucien had managed to keep the doors locked from his phone, the windows were easy enough to pry open and the sliding glass door to the deck was tantalizingly unlocked. There was no way off but to jump into the lake again.

And perhaps she was soft. She was definitely stupid. But Elain went back inside after she imagined making that harrowing escape and being found, being brought back and seeing Lucien dragged away in handcuffs.

Jailed.

She closed the door softly. The house was clearly not occupied year round given how sparse it seemed. A study was devoid of anything useful and covered in a fine layer of dust. She found more rope than anything, along with guns in practically every drawer, though all of them were unloaded.

Within the second hour, Elain was back on the leather, l-shaped couch flipping through television channels. Bored.

Still sore, still confused, still wondering why she was sitting like his fucking pet, Elain rose to her feet. There weren’t tampons, she very much doubted there were supplies for chocolate cupcakes. Surprise curled in her stomach. It seemed there were only baking supplies…as if someone had intentionally ordered enough ingredients to supply a small kitchen. Longing swirled through her.

Graysen hadn’t come. Almost a month of knowing where she was and who had her and Graysen had only warned her not to say anything. It was wrong, and yet Elain almost hoped Lucien would kill him. What did that say about her? Was she just as bad as Lucien had assumed her to be? Or had he merely woken something that had always slumbered in her chest?

Elain turned to the oven, setting the temperature, and began gathering ingredients. She rationalized her absolute insane behavior in her mind. This was a gift. A I won’t tell the police what happened kind of gift. A no one has to know what you did gift. Maybe even a thank you for eating me out the way you did.

The day wore on and Elain made more than Lucien could consume in a week, spreading them out over the marble counter to cool while she worked on filling and frosting. There was enough to fill half with raspberry jam and vanilla frosting and the rest just pure, decadent chocolate. Elain pulled a knife from the block to chop her chocolate. Fruit simmered in a pot.

The sound of the front door unlocked. Damn. Now he’d know she’d put effort into this. “Elain?"

That wasn’t Lucien’s voice. Elain paused, quietly turning off the stove behind her, knife still in hand. “Elain, are you in here? Graysen sent me.”

The door clicked shut quietly behind the intruder. She couldn’t see them and they couldn’t see her, not as she backed out of the kitchen for the hall. “Elain,” the voice murmured again. “We need to go before those Vanserra bastards show up. Come on, sweetheart. Come out.”

There was a creak in the wood. Elain hesitated, standing in the entryway between the kitchen and the hall. Stairs would take her up but turning would end her captivity.

“Did he tie you up?” The voice grumbled, more to himself.

A familiar face turned into the kitchen from the opposite side, filling Elain with icy dread. Blue eyes set in a growling, scarred face. White blonde messy hair and unkempt, just like always. Bruised knuckles clutching a gun pointed right at her chest.

“Nick?” she asked stupidly. He’d always scared her. Graysen had told her once never to trust him if she found herself alone with him.

He’d fuck you as soon as kill you.

Nick smiled. “There you are. Graysen’s real worried about you.”

“Why didn’t he come?”

“Busy,” Nick replied, gun still pointed right at her. “Come here. Let’s get out of this dump.”

Elain hesitated long enough for Nick to see it. She didn't want to go back to Graysen. She would have preferred to stay. Wait. He pulled his lips back. “Come on, Elain.”

“Call him,” she whispered, nodding to the oil stained jeans Nick wore. “Call him and confirm you have me.”

“You don’t call the shots,” Nick sneered. He wasn’t practiced like Graysen, wasn’t smooth or slick. He wasn’t particularly elegant, either. She’d spent a month trying to get under the immaculate skin of Lucien Vanserra with little luck but Nick was easy.

“Call him,” she said again in her brattiest voice.

Nick lost his temper, sweeping his arm over her cupcakes until they scattered against the floor. Elain sighed. So much for sweet talking Lucien into letting her go. “You don’t call the shots, bitch. I knew you’d like it up here, getting fucked stupid like a whore. Get in the goddamn car–”

“I’m not leaving until you—”

A shot rang out, blisteringly hot as it snagged against her cheek. Just barely missing. Elain froze, still gripping her knife by some miracle. Nick didn’t look surprised, only resigned. “Here is just as good as anywhere else,” he said. “Boss won’t like it, but I ain’t talking to you for another minute.” He aimed his gun again. Elain screamed, turning the corner to flee up the stairs. Another bullet ripped through the wall, lodging in plaster and paint.

“There’s no running, Elain!” Nick yelled from behind her. And there wasn’t but God, Elain was going to try. She took the stairs two at a time, quicker on her feet than Nick. He shot again, clipping her leg and sending her stumbling into the hall. Elain dragged herself up, ignoring the blood that dripped down her face and legs to skid into Lucien’s bedroom. There was more than one lock on this door and they all locked from the inside. She snapped them shut before racing for that heavy dresser.

And for the first time since he’d taken her, Elain wished he’d come back.

~*~

Graysen knew they’d come. He’d left three heads as gifts on a long, bloodied table. Andras, Emrys, and Evan. All rotting despite the autumn chill, stinking the place unbearably. Eris had been irate and in his fury, ordered Lucien to burn the whole place to the ground. Lucien had hesitated only for a moment, despite his general love of arson. Graysen would know, when the warehouse went up in smoke, that Elain had finally broken.

What would he do to her?

Vowing he would keep her safe, Lucien did exactly what Eris told him to. Emrys and Evan would have loved it, at any rate. It was exactly the kind of burial his older twin brothers would have relished. As for Andras, well…no one wanted to put a decaying head in their car.

Eris ran a hand down his face when they met up in the city, positioning themselves in front of enough red light cameras to offer up plausible deniability. As if the cops would ever believe that fire wasn’t covered in their sticky fingerprints. Lucien followed his brother up fifty floors to get to the office Eris worked in. All very legal—Eris was still an incredibly powerful lawyer with centuries of wealth behind his name. If all that money was soaked in blood, well…that was the cost of doing business.

Lucien found the whole thing absurd though he technically worked there as well. Was technically a barred lawyer who had attended a good school to offer that appearance. Lucien in a courtroom was hardly the same man who preferred a crowbar to a gun.

Lucien let his eyes sweep over his brothers rich wooden shelves and the matching mahogany desk framed by a glass wall overlooking the city. Eris plopped into his high backed leather chair, gesturing for Lucien to take a seat. If Eris was the head of their family, the tight fisted, straight back figurehead than Lucien’s casual sprawl made him the spoiled prince.

“That went badly,” Eris snarled softly. “What has she told you?”

“That she doesn’t know anything,” Lucien replied easily, drumming his fingers on his knee. “That he broke up with her.”

Lucien reached into his pocket to check on her, constantly watching through the cameras. Flicking open the screen, he found her usual tantrum in the form of scattered cupcakes across the immaculate tile. Lucien sighed. So much for licking her clean. He’d be tying her up and spanking her until she cried.

“I don’t think it's a lie,” Lucien murmured, wondering where in the house she’d run off to. Eris shrugged.

“Can you let her go or do you think she’ll talk?” Eris asked. “If you think she’ll open her mouth, end this tonight.”

Lucien looked to his brother, forgetting his quest to find her in the house. “I’m not killing her.”

Eris’s eyes flashed. “What do you intend to do with her?”

Lucien stood. “Don’t worry about what I’m doing. She won’t say a word.”

Eris shook his head, as if he hadn’t met his own wife under similarly inauspicious circumstances. “Don’t be fucking stupid. We need to find him. Pump her for information before you set her loose. Maybe he’ll come looking for her.”

Lucien merely smiled, turning for the door. It was always so jarring to step from the immaculate mahogany and leather of Eris’s office for the rest of the floor it lived on. Just a normal space with cubicles and copiers and people who paid taxes and certainly didn’t have a gun hidden beneath their clothes.

Lucien resumed his scroll in the packed elevator. The front door was shut, the deck empty. The television was on but no one was on the couch. Up the stairs, Lucien halted at the smear of blood on the white walls. A handprint streaked against the pain, too small to belong to anyone but Elain.

Panic flooded his body. Had she hurt herself? Become so enraged she’d found where he hid the bullets and turned it on herself. Lucien watched, surrounded by the ignorant, sweaty bodies filing in and out of the building, as a filthy man came into view. He couldn't turn on the sound, couldn’t connect himself to the speaker in his bedroom to tell her where he kept his weapons. Could only watch as a heavy boot began to crash against his bedroom door. She was keeping him out but for how long?

Lucien sprinted from the building to his car, throwing cash in a valet's face in order to get his keys. The moment Lucien was safe behind the door—the very same he’d once shoved her into the trunk of—he connected the audio.

“-Bitch–!”

“Elain,” Lucien cut through the screaming. “Elain, answer me right now.”

He couldn’t see her. Lucien didn’t keep a camera in his own fucking room. For all he knew she was bleeding to death on the floor while he was trapped in downtown traffic. Lucien practically panted, wondering if he was better served turning around and finding Graysen. He could torture him in Elain’s blood, could let him look at her corpse and explain—

“Lucien?”

Her soft, trembling voice on the other end nearly sent him smashing into the car in front of him. He exhaled roughly.

“Are you hurt?”

She hesitated. “I’m okay.”

What the fuck did that mean, I’m okay? Lucien forced himself to take a breath, ignoring the sound of splintering wood muffled through his speakers. He could yell at her about her unwillingness to give him a straight answer later.

“There is a gun in the bedside table drawer. Go get it.” He listened to the sound of wood scraping, her fumbling fingers pulling too quickly, sending the whole thing tumbling to the ground.

“I don’t know–”

“It’s a gun,” Lucien interrupted impatiently. “You point, you shoot. Don’t overthink it, princess. Go to the closet.”

“Why?”

“Go to where I keep my shoes. Do you see that row of boxes on the bottom shelf? The purple box has bullets. Take them out.”

He had no idea if she did or didn’t. Lucien kept his eyes on the road, gripping the leather steering wheel until his knuckles ached. “You can do this,” he murmured when he heard the soft sounds of her crying. “Did you put them in?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good girl,” he praised. “You’re such a good girl, do you know that?”

There was no reply on the other end, only a madman’s promises of what he’d do to Elain should he get through the door. Elain couldn’t pull the trigger to escape him…Lucien was awash in fear. Could she do it now? Would she?

“Elain,” Lucien barked. “Tell me you know what a good girl you are.”

“I’m afraid,” she told him. “Where are you?”

“On my way,” Lucien replied, breaking almost a hundred as he zipped out of the city. “Are you holding the gun?”

“Yes.”

“Safety off?”

“Yes.”

“Point it at the door.” He heard her trembling gasp. “You’re okay. Go to the door, point, okay? Just do that. You don’t have to do anything else.”

There was a pause. “I can’t do this,” she said, her voice a soft sob. “Lucien–”

The sound of crunching violence, of a man swearing and Elain screaming, followed by a series of pop, pop, pop, sent Lucien nearly crashing off the bridge he flew over.

Oh God, he thought in the resulting silence. He wanted to look at his phone, to see if that hulking man was stumbling out, leaving Elain’s body behind.

“Elain?”

But the connection had died, leaving Lucien alone with nothing but silence.

~*~

Elain didn’t move from the corner of Lucien’s bedroom. Day slipped to night, leaving her trembling between the wall and the bed, gun at her feet.

Dead, I killed him, he’s dead—

“ELAIN!” Lucien’s voice thundered through the darkness, his heavy steps on the stairs. Nothing felt real to her anymore. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Was he coming to finish what Graysen started?

Lucien skidded into the room, immaculate as always though his eyes were wild. Scared. He didn’t even acknowledge the body laying in front of the broken door, shoving the dresser to the side when he caught sight of her. Stepping through the cooling blood, Lucien dropped to his knees cupping her face.

“I killed him,” she whispered, waiting for his condemnation. Lucien pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You did a good job, Elain,” he said, pulling her against his body. Lucien had to be fully sitting in the blood for all he seemed to notice. Elain noticed, though. She couldn’t stop staring at the slow creeping stain up over his thighs, his shins. “You did such a good job.”

“Killing someone?” she questioned, wondering if she shouldn’t be more hysterical. She felt angry more than anything. Angry that she’d kept Graysen’s stupid fucking secret and instead of trusting her, he’d sent Nick to kill her.

Lucien’s thumbs stroked over her cheeks. “What are you thinking?”

“He sent Nick. He told me never to trust him, he tried to kill me—”

Lucien shook his head. “Not about Graysen,” he whispered hotly. Impatiently. “About this?”

He gestured towards Nick’s body. Elain forced herself to look again, pressing closer though she knew she shouldn’t. Guilt swam through her veins, replacing all her good sense.

“Will you let me go, now?

“No,” he whispered, threading fingers through her hair. “I won’t.”

Lucien’s mouth slid over her neck when she arched it towards the ceiling for a breath of air. “I mean to keep you, Elain.”

“What about what I want?”

“You want me,” he insisted, pulling her face to look back at him. “I already have a wedding gift in mind.”

Elain swallowed the urge to scream. “What could you possibly give me that–”

“Graysen’s head,” he whispered, his hungry mouth pressed to her lips. “Or, if you’d prefer, his body at your feet.”

“You’re going to kill him?”

Lucien’s tongue licked her bottom lip, drawing a soft gasp from her throat. “No, princess. You will kill him. I merely mean to bring him to you.”

Lucien readjusted her in his lap, rolling her hips over him. As if they were just two normal people talking about the future and not sitting in a pool of blood with a body a mere twenty feet away.

“Lucien, I–”

He ignored whatever she’d been about to say, hauling her up to the bed. His tongue was in her throat, his hand wrapped around her neck, pinning her to the mattress so he could grind his hips between her legs.

“You what, Elain?” he growled against her neck, sucking rough kisses against her throat. “Tell me.”

God, she couldn’t remember. Elain whined against the pain, pushing for all the good it did. He smelled so good, was so warm and comforting that it was almost easy to forget he was also her captor.

“You had me out of my mind,” Lucien continued, his knees still bloodstained as he pushed her further up the mattress, crawling with her. “Fucking sick with worry. Did you like that? Do you like what you’ve done to me?”

She didn’t answer him.

“You’re a fucking brat,” he continued desperately, pulling at the shirt she wore until the buttons scattered across the floor. Lowering his head, Lucien sucked a nipple into his mouth, worrying the skin between his teeth. Elain pushed again when pleasure shifted to pain. “Brats get punished.”

“I did everything you told me to!” she exclaimed, a tear sliding down her face. “You said–”

Lucien’s face, handsome and scared and wonderful, hovered over her own. Russet eyes burning, he asked, “What did I say?”

“You said I was a good girl,” she whispered, the words pathetic even to her own ears. Lucien licked the tears from her cheek.

“Are you my good girl? Or just anyone’s good girl?” he asked, his breath hot against her skin. “My good girl gets rewarded for doing what she’s told.”

“Your good girl,” Elain trembled. Lucien groaned, pressing his erect cock hard against her cunt.

“That’s right,” he agreed, kissing her again and again, his tongue stroking her own. Gone were his punishing touches and his sharp teeth. “You’re my good girl. Do you know how I reward my girl?”

Elain had an idea when he spread apart her legs.

“Do you like seeing me on my knees for you?” he questioned, holding her gaze. Elain nodded, forgetting everything else. There was nothing else—no terrible world, no murder, no men who kidnapped women and forced to bend them to their will. It was a momentary surrender. The real world was going to return with a vengeance, was going to remind her that she’d given in far too easily, had stopped fighting the first chance she got.

Bloodstained and wild, Lucien pulled his hair from its tie before settling his face against her. “This is my pussy, Elain,” he told her, stroking it lovingly. He was so fucking hot, so undone that Elain hated him even more. He descended on her, sucking and licking so loudly Elain couldn’t hear even her own furious heart.

It felt so good, too good. A new sort of touch, one that seemed to bruise against her battered heart. Elain kicked him hard in the jaw, sending him flying off her and for the first time, Lucien didn’t scramble for control. Stunned, laying on his back, legs hanging off the bed, Elain pounced, still draped in his shirt, her body still splattered in blood. She hit him hard in the face, first with her first and then, when that made her fingers ache, she slapped him.

Lucien let her, let her straddle his clothed chest, let her hit him over and over against his stubbled jaw, his burning eyes never leaving her. Egging her on, she realized when his hands skimmed over her hips to push her against his freed cock, to line them together.

Elain hit him again, as hard as she could, so roughly it made her bones vibrate and her palm sting just as Lucien slammed her onto him, impaling her with his penis. He groaned, his lip bleeding. “He tried to kill me!” she screamed when Lucien surged forward, repositioning her in his lap. His mouth found hers, kissing so she could taste her rage, her hatred. Every ugly thing she suspected she was, the thing she kept buried, the monsters she had hidden, all poured out of that kiss until she was the terrible thing. Her teeth bit against him, drawing a ragged moan from his throat as he ground his hips, fucking her slowly.

“And who did you want to come for you?” he rasped, tangling his fingers in her hair. “Who did you miss?”

“You,” she whined, his fingers back on her clit.

“Tell me what happens if I leave you again, princess,” he moaned, his hips speeding up. “Tell me what you’ll do to me if I’m ever so careless with what’s mine.”

Elain dragged her nails over his cheeks until violent red gashes were left in their wake. “I’ll kill you.”

Lucien groaned, capturing her mouth with another kiss. There was no more talking, save for her appreciative murmurs about her wet pussy before he shoved his tongue back in her mouth, tasting and biting until everything was blood and him. Blood and Lucien. It wasn’t enough, not when she came or he did too, pouring come into her body not because it didn’t matter but because he was intentionally trying to keep her with him.

It didn’t matter when he scooped her exhausted body into his arms, pushing past Nick still laying lifeless in the hall. And it didn’t matter when he set her in a new bed somewhere in the house, ridding himself of his own clothes and murmured for her to fall asleep.

It was all bliss.

~*~

Eris arrived in the dead of night with their brothers and his wife. She had a cute pink bag slung over her shoulder. Green eyes swept over him, clad in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants. Lucien had showered when Elain fell asleep, coated in sweat and blood and his own anxiety.

“You look like shit,” she commented. His face was swollen and bruised from Elain’s hands, her nails, her teeth. Lucien shrugged.

“I’ll bet you looked worse, once.”

Eris scowled from beside his wife, barking at their brothers to clean up the mess. Arina, smug as always, turned her attention back to Lucien.

“Is she upstairs?”

“Third floor. You remember the room,” he couldn’t help but add. She’d been here, once. Different brother, same scenario, if Lucien had to guess. Arina looked down the hall, a wistfulness ghosting her features.

“Is she clothed?”

“Nope.”

“I brought her some things,” Arina murmured. “I hope you’ve been treating her well.”

Eris snorted. “If you untie her, darling, I’ll bet she’ll beg you to take her home.”

Arina rolled her eyes.

“Arina, remind me how Eris asked you to marry him again!” Lucien called after her retreating back, if only to be an asshole. She flipped him off before vanishing into the dark.

Still chuckling, Eris said, “I tied a vibrator to her leg and refused to turn it off until she said yes. She likes to romanticize it.”

That was the story Lucien remembered.

“I’m gonna leave Graysen his buddy as a gift but I think, for now, it’s time to send his girl–”

“She’s not his girl,” Lucien said too hotly.

“Home,” Eris finished. “Scare her if you don’t want to kill her and then keep watch.”

“She’s staying with me. I’ll take her home and keep watch. Draw him out.”

Eris’s eyes filled with delight. “I take it back. Do you want the name of the priest who married Arina and I? He’ll look the other way.”

“Maybe,” Lucien conceded, rubbing his aching jaw. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what she’d do if he forced her into marriage. “Let's talk about this in the morning,” Lucien murmured when Conall and Tanwen appeared, carrying a bed sheet wrapped body down the steps. Eris grimaced, rolling up his sleeves.

They had work to do.

It was nearly dawn by the time Lucien collapsed into bed. Despite whatever Arina had tried, Elain was still naked, face down in the pillow. He dragged her against him, kissing her scalp.

“No sex,” she pleaded sofly. “My body hurts.”

Lucien sighed. “No sex,” he agreed. “But you need to think about getting up.”

“Why?”

“I’m taking you home.”

She twisted in the sheets. “You are?” she asked breathlessly. “Today?”

“Today,” he agreed, watching her sweet smile slip.

“Why?”

She was smart not to wholly trust her. Lucien brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Graysen is looking for you. You can’t stay here.”

That smile vanished into fear. “You said–”

“I’m not letting you go,” Lucien interrupted, lest she misunderstand him. “You’re still mine, princess. I’m taking you home. There is a difference. We were always going to have to leave.”

Elain bit her bottom lip. “My dad is coming into town next week.”

“Can’t wait to meet him. Should I ask him to marry you or is that too antiquated?”

Her expression shuttered. “Lucien–”

“You said you were too sore for sex, remember?” he reminded her patiently, ignoring the way his cock immediately responded when she said his name. “Don’t beg. I can’t resist.”

“You’re coming to my apartment?”

Lucien almost laughed. “I don’t think I’d fit. You’ll stay with me.”

“And my bakery–”

“Baby,” he interrupted with a soft shush. “You can still work. I’m not that old fashioned. I’ll drop you off every morning and pick you up at night. Until Graysen is dead,” he added.

“I don’t have a car,” she whispered.

“Even better. When is your birthday?”

He’d give her one.

“September 20,” she whispered.

“Lots of time,” he agreed. “Pick you out something cute.”

“Lucien,” she tried again, ignoring the look of warning on his face. “Just…after this…”

“After this, you’ll be my wife,” he finished for her firmly.

“And if I don’t want to be?” she questioned.

“You do,” was the only thing he could think to respond. He stroked his thumb against her cheek, letting her turn her face into his palm. Lucien couldn’t consider another alternative, couldn’t imagine a life in which he wanted her more than she wanted him. “One thing at a time, princess.”

Elain let him pull her closer, until her face was nuzzled against his neck, her body conforming to his. Her thigh settled against his thigh and experimentally, he felt her rub.

“I thought you were too sore,” he whispered as warning. As usual, Lucien was impossibly hard.

“Could you come like this?” she asked, rubbing him again through his pants. Lucien threaded a hand through her tangled hair.

“If you’re touching me, I can come,” he managed, kissing her when she ground her slim thigh against his cock again. “Use your hand.”

“I like my leg,” she complained. “I want to see if it's true. If you’ll come no matter how I touch you.”

“This is torture,” he combined, grinding against her all the same. His cock tingled, desperate for firmer touch. He would not survive much more of this before he rolled her over and pushed into her throat. Maybe she recognized his edge because her hand cupped him through the soft fabric and began to rub firmer, began to stroke him. Even with the barrier, Lucien wanted it. Panting, he was pleased when she lowered her head to kiss him, letting him have control with his tongue and teeth.

“Let me fuck you. There are other places–”

“Not today,” Elain replied.

“It’s only a matter of time,” Lucien growled. “Your ass will be mine, too.”

She arched a brow, as if to say we’ll see but Lucien knew. He’d have her tomorrow, face down in his bed, against his pillows, crying while he pumped into that pretty hole.

“I’m starting to think you like to be punished.”

“Are you going to come or should I go back to sleep?”

Lucien whipped his cock from his pants and took her hand firmly, forcing her to grip him. “Brat.”

“You like it,” she taunted.

“Brats get punished, princess,” he threatened even as she stroked. It was hardly one he could make good on when he was breathing so raggedly it was almost pathetic. All from her hand.

“How did you withstand touching me for so long?” she teased, feeling the bulging vein beneath the crown of his cock. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” Lucien moaned softly.

“How often did you imagine this, while I was tied up in your bed?”

“Every night,” he panted. “Christ, Elain—”

She stroked faster, harder, feeling his pulsating heart jump beneath his burning hot skin.

“Come for me, Lucien,” she crooned softly. Lucien wondered where the words came from, if she was even aware of the shift that had occurred. His hips bucked into her hand, thrusting desperately and though it was just her touch, when he came it was as if he poured into her pussy all the same. God he wanted to. Twitching and achy, Lucien reached for her only to find that come drenched hand catch him in the chest. She pressed her fingers into his lips.

“Taste yourself,” she ordered. “You like this.”

Lucien dragged her towards him for a bruising, blood-tinged kiss. “I told you by the end you’d be my little cockslut,” he whispered. “Look at you now.”

Elain merely smiled.

“Take me home.”

~*~

What did it say about Elain that she felt wistful as Lucien packed her up to go? She had very little in the way of things, though Eris Vanserra’s wife had come by the night before and given her clothes and a knife. Lucien was merely checking his own security so when he left, presumably he wouldn’t have to return.

Sitting on the arm of the sofa, Elain watched him move. He’d tied his hair half off his face in a bun, had his dress shirt tucked into belted pants. He looked professional though she knew if he turned, she’d see the gun peeking from the back of his pants.

Lucien turned to look at her, a smile spreading over his handsome face. Her stomach clenched at the sight, robbing her of breath. He was so impossibly lovely, soaked in blood as he was. Somehow bright despite the darkness that ought to shroud him.

“You’re feeling sentimental about this place, aren’t you?”

Elain scoffed. She hoped to never see it again. “No.”

“Then explain the look on your face,” he replied, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. The buttons puckered, straining ever so slightly and Elain wished they’d just pop, scatter over the floor and give her a reason to touch his skin.

“What’s wrong with my face?” she asked innocently, too breathless to be believable. His expression shifted into incredulity.

“I figured you’d want to go home today…see your bakery, get settled,” he began, walking towards her with those powerful legs. “But tomorrow I ah…thought maybe you’d spend it with me?”

Elain almost laughed. “Are you asking me on a date?”

His expression darkened ever so slightly. “It’s apple picking season at the farm you like,” he mumbled. “And it’s not a date if you’re sleeping in my bed every night. It’s merely spending time with my future wife.”

“Yes, of course,” Elain agreed. “I don’t see a ring on this–oh Christ, Lucien.”

He pulled a turquoise box from his pocket and flipped the lid so she could see the princess cut diamond set against a delicate silver band.

“I was going to give it to you tomorrow,” he all but complained, pulling it from the velvet to slide it against her finger.

“And are you going to ask me to frame a picture for you, too?”

“For my downtown office? Don’t worry, baby. I know how to slide my favorite picture of you–”

She swatted at him, well aware his favorite picture was the one he’d taken of her all tied up.

“Are we messed up, Lucien?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed, dropping his head for a kiss. “No going back now, princess. I’m not giving you back.” Elain’s fluttering chest settled. “Good,” she murmured, fiddling with the ring on her finger. “Now take me home, Lucien.”

Home was on fire. Sitting in Lucien’s car, Elain couldn’t move for a full minute as she stared at her bakery awash in flame. Fire trucks had already arrived while neighbors poured into the street, terrified their homes and businesses would be next. Elain pushed open the car door, dressed in the pink dress Arina had given her the night before.

“What happened?” she all but yelled to one of the cops cordoning off the area. His eyes flicked to the man behind her.

“You got enemies?” was all the cop asked, adjusting the heavy belt around his hips. “This place reeks of gas.”

Elain looked up at the gloomy sky, clouds blotted out by the billowing smoke. Behind her, Lucien put his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll rebuild it,” he told her, pressing his mouth to her hair. “I swear, Elain.”

She stared at the violence, taking in just how loud it was. Groaning wood and snapping glass against the scream of the wailing truck and rush of water created a symphony of horror. Elain would have rather been tied back to Lucien’s bed than watch the only thing she’d ever loved burn to the ground.

She twisted in his arms. “You love me?” she asked him, clutching at his buttoned shirt as she trembled. Not in fear, but with hatred. Lucien peered down at her, one hand resting against the small of her back.

“I do.”

“Then you’ll kill him for this, Lucien. You’ll kill him.”

He cupped her face, stroking her cheek and she knew he wanted to ask if she loved him, too. Elain stared at him amid the backdrop of the inferno, a strange metaphor for their cursed relationship. Cursed marriage. The world was certainly worse for their union, she thought. And still, she wanted it.

He dropped his mouth to hers. “Only if you love me, too.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips. “I do.”

“I’d lay this whole city at your feet if you asked me to,” Lucien swore. “One man is hardly any trouble.”

“I want to see his body.”

Lucien was struggling not to smile, to remain somber in the wake of the tragedy unfolding around them. He was such a smug bastard.

Her smug bastard. “As a wedding present?”

“I’ll marry you right now if you get on your knees and swear Graysen won’t make it another month.”

Lucien dropped to his knees without a word, taking her hand and ghosting his lips over her skin, over the ring on her finger. “I swore I’d bring you his body, princess. You can kill him. I’m merely your messenger.”

Elain nodded, pulling him to his feet.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Lucien smiled. “I know…’til death do us part, princess. If I fail, I’d expect no less.”

But he wouldn’t.

And she knew it.

Cassian:

Cassian lounged against the side of a tree trunk. Waiting. Crisp air bit against his face, ruffling his shoulder length hair. Any minute now. He’d been watching her for two weeks, memorizing her schedule.

Nesta.

The wind seemed to whisper her name. The whole city did, if Cassian was honest. Hands jammed in his pockets, he wondered not for the first time what a woman like Nesta Archeron could have done to engender the hatred Graysen Nolan felt when he’d ordered her held.

Break her. Whatever it takes.

Cassian hadn’t met Graysen but he knew why Rhysand had chosen him for the job.

Get her out of the city. People will be looking for her.

Easy enough. Cassian had just the place. All he needed was the woman. Nesta Archeron was an up and coming lawyer, if that was even a thing. He didn’t know jack shit about lawyers or her type. She was too fussy for him, too rigid, too in love with her schedule. All the things that would make her fun to break were the same things that made her easy to snatch.

Every morning Nesta went for a run. He could have set his watch to her. He had, today. The sun wasn’t up, her trail devoid of life. He was starting to suspect that despite a career that forced her to talk to others, she hated the company of other people.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

Cassian glanced down at his watch. Everything he’d need was in the trunk of his car. In a few more minutes she’d round the bend in her expensive sports bra and leggings, headphones tucked into her ears. She wouldn’t notice him, too focused on finishing. Five miles before breakfast was surely something and Cassian knew she wouldn’t eat anything but coffee until noon.

Her whole life, despite its glamor, was empty. Precise and boring and so utterly sanitized. What would she do when she found herself tied up in his ropes? God, he couldn’t wait. After years of breaking knees and shattering teeth, the thought of wrecking the spoiled princess that surely was Nesta made his whole body throb with anticipation.

He glanced down at his phone.

One minute.

He could hear the heavy thudding of her shoes against the dirt path. Cassian crept forward, hidden by heavy trees. It should be a crime to build trails like this where anyone could hide. Perhaps that was the point. Maybe the city had been planned by men like him. Didn’t Nesta know not to run alone? The majority of women he knew went to the gym…or got a fucking dog, at least.

She rounded the corner, breasts bouncing as she came towards him. Icy blue eyes slid towards the watch tracking her steps, her location, her breaths. She didn’t seem him until he was on her, until his arm wrapped around her ribs.

Nesta drew a breath to scream and Cassian, chuckling, clapped his rag over her mouth. She inhaled the chemicals lurking, twisting and writhing against him. She wasn’t the only one who worked out, which was just as well—he nearly dropped her once. Nesta was a hellcat.

Cassian was almost disappointed when she went limp against him. Her little watch likely captured the frantic beat of her heart though it didn’t dare pull it up to look. Let her friends stare at those last terrified moments and wonder what she’d seen.

Pulling a little knife from his pocket, Cassian cut it from her wrist and left hidden in the brush. He did the same with her bra and then her leggings and panties, unconcerned who might come upon them. No one was coming.

He left it all, even her shoes, scattered about. If they concentrated their searching to the vicinity, it made it easier for Nesta to get lost. To never resurface, given Cassian had to assume at some point Graysen was going to want her.

Hauling her lithe, naked body into his arms, Cassian walked the short distance from the park to his car. Opening the trunk, he dropped Nesta unceremoniously inside. He allowed himself one moment to admire her form, slick with sweat and tucked among the black interior before slamming the lid shut.

Cassian sent a quick text.

Got her. Anything else?

Blue bubbles appeared immediately.

I’ll let you know.

Cassian grinned.

Perfect.

#i dont think i even want to tag this like i usually do #trusting all the people who want to read this know how to find me #i will remove this so fast if there is any nonsense in my askbox #and as punishment there will be 0 dragon dilfs until mid august #i mean it

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