Destroyed

4

Roan

I’d learned from an early age to use people’s weaknesses against them. Taunting the fragile, mocking the littler. Instead of being told no, I was encouraged. Given the tools to excel in murder, and browbeaten into being the perfect obedient machine.

The moment I set eyes on her, I tasted a delicious combination of fear and strength. Weakness and bravery. Sadness and resignation.

Instincts and needs that I’d buried and ignored volcanoed to the surface. I lost control. I broke every rule and didn’t give a fuck.

She woke a part of me I didn’t know existed—a man not layered in ice and coldblooded disassociation. This new man ached with every inch; he craved heat and fire and lust.

And so I stole her.

And I took her.

Over and over again.

Shit.

How the hell had this happened? This never happened. Never in my life had I submitted to a bodily craving. That sort of thing had been tortured out of me. I didn’t suffer from a lack of discipline.

Ever.

Until now.

The instant I saw her I lost a part of myself. I became drunk on a new sensation. Something about her drew me. I didn’t lust or fuck or need. To be close to another filled me with horror not joy. So why the hell did I want to know her? Why were my thoughts full of nakedness and heat? What the fuck am I doing?

I glanced at her. With her shoulders back and chin thrust forward, she looked like she was headed to war not a conversation. Every step was calm and brave; every motion full of confidence and poise.

The stolen blade hung heavy in my pocket, thudding against my thigh with every step. I’d lost control and kidnapped someone at knife point. Not just anyone—a woman I touched.

I fucking touched her!

I never touched anyone voluntarily unless it was in a fight. It just wasn’t done. My entire life I’d avoided every iota of touch and contact. And yet the instant I wrapped my fingers around her arm, my entire body shuddered with some unseen power filtering from her to me.

It intoxicated me. It bewitched me. It fucking scared me.

Only when I looked directly into her eyes did I taste just how much passion, fear, strength, sadness, and rebellion lived inside her. She was like an unlit firework—contained and neatly packaged on the outside, but a hazardous explosion on the inside.

“I want my knife back,” she murmured, her eyes connecting with mine. All I could think about were emeralds and every green gemstone I’d ever seen. Her eyes mocked my own—whereas I had no colour, she had every spectrum.

“You’re not getting it back till I say you can.” Until I understand this insane drive to touch you.

“You’re not my owner,” she snapped. “This isn’t a discussion. It’s my property, and I want it back. I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not playing your crazy mind games anymore.”

The familiar strength and rage shot up my spine. Tearing my eyes from hers, I strode faster up the steps.

She took the steps two at a time and brushed past with a cold look. Her shoulder grazed mine. My vision turned red, muscles locked down, and the familiar command to hurt made me tremble. My jaw locked as I fought the orders.

Shit. She isn’t different after all.

My fucking heart sank. I’d chased her, trapped her, and dragged her up here because I’d dared to hope. Dared to believe that I was drawn to her because she might be impervious to my training. That I might be able to touch and be touched.

Turned out I could touch her without falling into old patterns, but she couldn’t touch me.

My heart hardened in disappointment. So she wasn’t my cure after all. I’d hoped—

You’d hoped it was fading. That you could finally live a life where you wouldn’t automatically punch someone in the fucking face or slam a dagger into their heart.

Tough shit.

I doubted I’d ever be free, and that just made me fucking homicidal.

Reaching the top of the stairs, her lips parted as she took in the large landing. Skating her eyes over the table and black couch, she drifted toward the glass perimeter. From here, the arena looked like a modern day version of the coliseum. Men fought in cages and rings, unconscious bodies were tended to by medics. All that was missing were the lions and other exotic animals the Romans used to kill unlucky slaves.

I shared a certain bond with those unfortunate souls.

No one would look at me and think I was slave. But I had been. I still was. I probably would be forever.

I didn’t say a word as she pushed off from the balcony and moved toward a statue of a twisted and gnarly tree.

The sculpture took me eighteen days with barely any sleep to finish. I’d warmed the metal just enough to twist and distort. I turned a pristine lump of bronze into a tortured piece of art. The tree looked like it was heralded by demons and designed by masochists. Its branches only suitable for carcass-eating vultures to perch.

But I liked it. In fact, it was one of my favourite pieces. It represented nothing, but at the same time, everything.

It was me. Bared raw.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she ran her fingertips over the cold metal. The instant she touched it, my cock lurched. It fucking lurched for the second time in my sorry existence.

Heat. Delicious wanting heat blazed in my blood. Lust. So unknown and almost unrecognisable. It grabbed me around the balls, making me hard, filling my cock with new life.

My dick knew better than to act on its own. It’d been taught to never react. Thoughts of release and sex were beaten out of us at a very early age. And if we disobeyed—well…

The fear had kept me impotent, but this woman—this magical infuriating woman—had graced me with a fucking hard-on. I gritted my teeth, revelling in the sensitivity as I swelled, thickened, and ached with unfamiliar need. The flush of heat boiled the ice in my blood, leaving me steaming, angry, and on the cusp of something entirely alien.

Two years I’d waited for the thawing, and for two years it never happened. But tonight. Tonight, all thanks to one woman, I might’ve found the chink—the weakness—in my brainwashing.

She bent her spine, investigating the artwork closely. My balls drew tighter, throbbing.

Her body beckoned me. She was different, elusive, unobtainable. And my cock wanted unobtainable. For the first time since my life of slavery began, it came alive between my legs.

I didn’t think I could stand the craving. It was too strong—too demanding.

I trembled for an entirely different reason. I wanted to scream at her for having such power over me while at the same time bow at her feet for freeing me from the cage I existed in.

Then came the fear.

The anxious sweats at misbehaving, the knowledge I’d disobeyed a direct order. Punishment would be horrific.

They’re not here.

I closed my eyes, trying to get a grip—re-centring myself.

“Hey. Umm, are you okay?”

My eyes flew wide only to be trapped by her half-angry, half-concerned gaze. Her scrumptious body wrapped in gold and silver chased away my fear and my mouth watered at the thought of taking her.

Pity filled me. Pity for her because now that I’d tasted what she could do for me, I wasn’t letting her go. She wouldn’t be going home tonight. Or the next or the next or the next. She’d be in my bed. She’d open her legs and I’d—

Goddammit, I’m acting as if I’m fucking fifteen.

Trouble was I had a lifetime of lust fizzing and bursting inside. Two orgasms I’d enjoyed since I hit puberty. Only two. I was fucking desperate for a third.

“I’m fine. Why?” I eyed her provocative dress, drinking in her gentle curves; filling my mind with images that any man starved of sex would imagine. I wanted to run a tongue down her cleavage. I wanted to taste her skin before sinking deep, deep inside her.

I’d never felt this way. Never.

She stood taller, baring her shoulders with fearlessness and a fine edge of resentment. “You’re shivering. And frankly you look sick.” Waving her hand, she scowled. “Not that I care if you’re sick, of course. Look, I’m done with all of this. Give me back my knife and let me go.” One hand went to her side, rubbing where I’d placed the blade. “You’re a bastard for forcing me against my will. If Clue hadn’t been there, such a tiny weapon wouldn’t have stopped me from ripping off your balls.”

First image into my head was her tiny hands cupping my aching balls.

Second image was the ludicrous suggestion she could even touch me without my permission.

I couldn’t stop it. Cold laughter erupted from my mouth. I froze, cursing this woman. Cursing myself for these new, strange feelings. I never laughed. I never touched. I never got hard. I never wanted to fuck.

She was a witch. She was magical. She would fix me.

“How much was Corkscrew going to pay you for tonight?”

Her nostrils flared. “Excuse me?”

“How much? To fuck you?”

She shuddered. “That’s what you think I am? I thought you were joking before.” She shook her head, a low noise coming from her throat. “Unbelievable. You’re a bastard and an asshole. For your information, he’s my best-friend’s boyfriend. He’s a nice guy—unlike you.” She paced on the landing, her dress whispering around her legs with every step. “Fucking unbelievable. I want to leave. I’m done talking to you.”

My muscles shivered, feeding off her temper, letting her spirit clash with mine. Another lesson I’d been taught: leech the feelings off another before stealing everything. It allowed me to feel their fear, live their terror—the only thing I could get in those days.

Dragging my eyes over her body, my fucking cock hardened to a rock. Her breasts were squished inside the lace of the dress, her waist so tiny I could crush the life out of her with just my hands. Her legs…

Shit.

The moment my eyes landed on her legs, memories swamped me.

“See her? The prima ballerina?”

My eyes had trouble focusing through the binoculars, but I could make out a girl in a tutu with legs that looked matchstick thin and so easily breakable. “Yes.”

“She’s the target tonight when her father and mother are asleep.”

I’d long ago stopped asking why. I never got a reply, only a swat around the head, and any fear that my soul was destined for hell had been purged from me in the early days of training.

“Okay.”

The pat on the back made me curl in horror. I hated people touching me. It always brought pain to me or pain to others.

“Stay here until 3 a.m., then proceed.”

“—and just because you own this illegal place doesn’t give you the right to hurt me!” Zel snapped.

I blinked, trying to seem like I’d heard the entire string of obscenities she’d no doubt thrown my way.

Dragging hands over my face, I said, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Much. My voice was deep and gravelly. I hated flashbacks. They came at the worst times. Ironically, my body had been trained to perfection—I could kill in hundreds of different ways. I could mutilate and massacre with an artistry only learned from a lifetime of tutelage, but the weakest part of me was my brain.

Try as I might to block the nightmares and visions, they broke through randomly, shoving me back into horror. However, this one had done me a favour.

I was no longer hard.

What the fuck were we talking about?

Ah, yes. “Ten thousand is the going rate for a woman of talents. Not a bad income for a night’s earnings.” I licked my lips. “I could be persuaded to go to twenty thousand if you’re so repulsed by me.”

Her eyes flickered to my scar. “I told you. I’m not a whore. You can keep your money as there’s no way in hell I’m letting you fuck me.” She backed up to the balustrade, her face paling from cream to white.

The hair on my forearms stood up. I inched forward, trapping her between my body and the glass. A metre existed between us, but the air hummed, arching and spitting with the same delicious energy I’d felt when I’d touched her.

“Fine. You’re not a whore. But if you were…inclined…to agree to a one off deal. To let me, as you eloquently put it, fuck you—what would you charge?” My heart raced at the thought of peeling the lace off her shoulders.

I took another tiny step forward. “I’m warning you now, I won’t take no for an answer. I haven’t wanted a woman, any woman, as much as I want you. I’m going to have you, so stop dancing around the fact, hoping you can get free, and agree to a figure.”

My cock thickened again at the thought of touching her—relishing being allowed such a simple, but miraculous thing. I would savour every inch of her skin. I’d caress her with every fingertip, my tongue, my entire fucking body.

Zel shook her head, loose curls haloing her head. “Nothing. Because there is no deal. Back up and let me leave. Go and sleep with one of your employees. You don’t need me.”

Her denial made me want her all the more. It was torture. It was heaven. “You’re wrong. I do need you. I wasn’t lying when I said you were different. I don’t understand it, but I’m fucking done pretending to be human when I’m not. I need you to let me be free. I need to fuck you.”

Her skin flushed and she moved suddenly, darting to the side to reach the stairs. She was fast, but I was faster. I placed myself squarely in her path, gritting my teeth ready for consequences. If she touched me we’d both be in trouble.

She careened to a stop, unsteady in her high heels. “Move.”

“No. Not until you agree.” I took another careful step toward her. My mouth watered at the thought of kissing, licking, biting. I’d never been so irrational or so sure. Something about this woman made my lifeless cock sit up and fucking beg.

“There’s always a deal. For the right price,” I whispered, slowly closing the small distance between us.

Zel’s neck rippled as she swallowed hard. “I’m not for sale.” The slight tremor in her voice stroked my need, making me burn. She lied. She might not know it, but she’d just admitted she would sell herself. To me.

My stomach flipped, filling me with edgy thirst. Thirst to have her.

I murmured, “I have a gift. A gift that tells me secrets that people think they hide so well. Call it sixth sense, or a hunter’s perception, but I know things about you already. I know when you’re lying.”

She bit her lip, eyes flashing with defiance. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Bowing my head, I inhaled her soft floral scent. Lily of the valley. A plant we cultivated at the facility—a pretty little flower whose berries were poison. A convenient method of killing with anonymity.

If I tasted her would she poison me?

“I know you have two weaknesses.” I’d catalogued them, committed to memory just like I’d been trained. It wasn’t a gift, mainly just good observation. I knew what would bring out the ultimate amount of pain if I ever needed to.

One: she had a silver scar, long since healed, marring her beauty directly beneath her right eye. It’d been deep and long, but sewn together neatly, so it was barely noticeable under the makeup she wore.

Two: her right ear had been torn. Healed and stitched, a small triangle of cartilage was missing from the top.

The imperfections made me frown. I wanted to know who hurt her. I wanted to kill them.

She huffed, inching along the balcony to avoid my advance. “You can make up stuff all you want, but you’re wrong on one count: I’m not for sale.” She bared her teeth. “Back off.”

“No.” I crowded her against the glass. “I want you, and I always get what I want.”

She stood taller, arching her back, looking like she’d sprout wings and take off from the mezzanine at any moment. “Well, unless you’re in the habit of rape, you won’t get what you want this time.” Her hands flew up to shove me back, but I dodged to the side. Fear overrode my need, beating a fast tattoo in my chest.

I couldn’t risk her touching me.

Her eyes fell to my scar again, making me very aware of her perfection compared to my grotesqueness. Of course, that’s why she’d refused. If I’d been whole and not disfigured, I doubted she would deny me. I might know nothing of women, but I knew she suffered the same pull, the same need.

I captured her elbow, quivering thanks to the charge between us. “Would you fuck me if you didn’t find me so repulsive?” My entire body erupted from the single contact. It twisted my gut, scrambled my brain.

I would never be good enough. Not for this flawless creature who had the power to free me.

But that was a lie. She did have flaws.

She portrayed a woman who had everything and needed nothing. Someone strong and independent, but that was false. She was damaged. I might wear my mistakes for the world to see, but it didn’t make hers any less visible.

The anger on her face disappeared, replaced by tenderheartedness for just a second. “Is that what you think? That I’m refusing you because of your disfigurement? You aren’t repulsive.”

I decided then and there I hated her compassion—I preferred her anger. I deserved it. I didn’t deserve empathy.

“I’m refusing you because you’re an overbearing psycho who can’t take no for an answer and stole my freedom and my knife. Your scar has nothing to do with it.”

My temper built. “I know you need money for something. The way you look at the wealth around us screams the truth.”

She froze.

“I’m guessing you need a sizeable sum.” I glared harder, deciphering the greed and hunger in her eyes. She didn’t seem the type to want frivolous things. It was for something deeper…something….

The answer appeared from nowhere—like it always did when I let myself delve deep.

“You need it for someone you care about. I’m also guessing you’d do almost anything to get it.” I delivered it like a threat, a curse. “All I’m asking is for you to let me fuck you. And I’ll give you what you need. Name a figure and it’s yours to spend however you fucking want.”

My lifeless heart stuttered as her fight faded and her green eyes shimmered with tears. “You arrogant prick.” The spark and intense awareness between us shifted from lust-filled-competition to grief-ridden. “You don’t know a thing about me. You don’t deserve any part of me.”

Shit.

I didn’t know what to do. Standing there like an idiot, I offered no condolences as she sniffed and gritted her teeth. No tears fell, but the glossy look never fully disappeared. “You truly are a bastard. For your information I felt what you did. I found you intriguing and don’t mind admitting I entertained the thought of what it would be like to kiss you. You could’ve had me. All you had to do was be a gentlemen and ask me on a fucking date. But you ruined it, and now you’ve used my one weakness and made me feel like shit.” Her shoulders fell, and I knew I’d won.

I’d won, but I didn’t feel victorious. I felt like fucking scum.

Being able to read what people tried to keep hidden meant I could intimidate and influence. Up till now, I didn’t give a rats-ass about hurting anyone, but this woman… this woman….Shit.

Sighing, I muttered, “Tell me about your ear, then maybe I’ll let you go.” Give me one piece of you. I placed my hands in my pockets and backed off a little, giving the illusion of freedom and safety.

She shook her head, balling her fists. “What sort of mind games are you playing? Why do you want to know anything about me?” Her voice was soft but strong, lyrical but brave. Something twinged deep inside, recognising the fight in her—the same fight that lived in me.

Spreading my arms, I said, “No games. You were honest with me, so I’ll be honest with you. I’ve lived a lonely life—not through my own choice—and for the first time I connected with someone. I like the lust flowing in my veins. I love the anticipation of fucking you. And I love your fierceness.” I waited for her to look up—to make eye contact—but she never did.

“If I tell you about my ear, you’ll let me go?” she asked softly.

I stifled my growl. After my honesty, admitting I was drawn to her, all she wanted to do was leave. Fine. I crossed my arms. “I said maybe.”

Silence pulsed between us, thickening with tension. The ache in my cock was overshadowed by an ache for something different. I needed pain. I needed a fight. Only pain could eliminate the confusion and give me room to breathe. I hated suffering such intense emotions, all while hoping they’d never leave.

I felt alive. And annoyed and horny and frustrated.

The fight with Everest had done nothing. His fists hadn’t hurt; he’d been too easy to defeat. Arrogant bastard hadn’t lived up to his boasting and now I’d have to find another way to self-medicate with pain.

I didn’t think Zel would answer, but finally she said, “It was my foster-sister. They were my ninth foster family, and I was more like a feral cat than a little girl. For the first day, I was a novelty, same as always, same as before, but then by the third or fourth day, I was the toy that got pulled apart. Her and her brother coaxed me into the garage, saying they’d seen a kitten running around.

“I related more to animals and only the thought of having a feline friend made me follow. Once we were there, they threw me to the ground and duct-taped my legs and arms.”

She paused, unconsciously tracing the piece missing from her ear. “They used their father’s tin-snips to cut me, saying I should be tagged like a wild animal seeing as I would never be a real girl. Afterward, they left me to bleed until their father arrived home from work. Instead of rushing me to the hospital, he attempted to sew it up himself. If child services had found out his own children hurt me, he would’ve been taken off the list for carers and denied the weekly paycheque.

“Thing was, he did such a bad job, I ended up looking like I’d been mauled by a dog.” Her body tensed, morphing from victim to fighter. “That night, I ran. It was the first time I ran away. I had no money or idea where I was going, but it was the best thing that happened to me. Running, that is.”

I hadn’t noticed my fists had curled and every muscle tensed. The urge to find pain mixed with the urge to take retribution on those bastard’s children. I had no qualms about hurting minors. “How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

My respect for her increased. Not only was she a strong woman, but she’d been a strong child, too. A bit like me in a way. I ran, but unfortunately ran in the wrong direction.

I wanted to ask about her other flaws. I needed to know every secret but I wanted to savour them—try and unravel them before learning the truth from her. And I would find the truth because she wasn’t leaving.

“Thank you for telling me.”

She raised her eyes; the green was darker, more forest than grass. “Now will you let me go?”

I smiled, forcing the scar on my cheek into a grimace. “No. I have no choice. I can’t let someone go who intrigues me this much. Who makes my cock ache this hard. I don’t even know you, yet you invoke more questions and urges than anyone before.” Shrugging, I encroached on her space, pushing her back. “I won’t let you go until I’ve had you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

She looked at me as if I were the devil asking for her soul.

My stomach roiled with sick satisfaction. Too long I’d been the one being used. It would be nice to use someone else for change. To use her body, her mind, her soul to fix everything inside me.

Zel took a step back, eyes flashing with green embers. “You’re unhinged. Do you honestly think I want you after that? Whatever attraction I felt has flown away thanks to your caveman demands. You’re an imbecile, and I’m done. Let me go.”

I ghosted forward, heart racing with the thought of taking her against her will. You can’t do that. You know what it feels like too clearly.

Standing still, I straightened my shoulders. “How much?”

She slammed hands onto her hips glaring as if she could incinerate me with her gaze. “Are you fucking deaf? There is no price. There is no deal. I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me.” Her face tightened; her lithe body trembled. Everything about her made me want to taste.

Balling my hands, I winced at the small cuts on my knuckles from the fight. “What’s your full name?” I decided to go a different tact—confusion. Wear her down with insinuations and endless questions.

Scowling, she exhaled heavily; anger flushed her cheeks turning her skin from cream to roses. Her eyes darted around the space—over my shoulder, at the statues, toward the stairs. Every flick of her gaze cut me off from seeing her thoughts.

Goddammit, look into my eyes. I’d never realized how much I relied on seeing into someone’s soul. It gave me clues and insights I couldn’t get otherwise.

“If you’re looking for a weapon you won’t find one, and I doubt you’re strong enough to throw a fifty kilo statue at my face.” I patted my pocket where her knife lay. “Agree to a sum and as an act of good faith, I’ll give you back your blade.”

She froze as deliberations played over her face. “Let me get this straight. You want to pay me to fuck you, even though you own a monstrosity of a mansion and could get any woman into bed if you actually learned some tact and charm.” Her perfect pouty lips quirked into half a smile. “Rather sad when I think about it. Shame I don’t sleep with men out of pity or for money or for any reason so shut up and let me leave.”

My eyes couldn’t stop looking at her condescending half smile. Mocking me. Belittling me. Half smiles were lazy. They were fake. Either smile with your fucking soul or don’t bother.

Probably why I hadn’t smiled since I was six. My soul was dead.

I’d had enough. Anger frothed in my blood, and I needed her beneath me. No more fucking games.

“I don’t just want any woman. I want you. So stop fucking me around. Name your price and I’ll pay it.”

I may own a mansion and a tempting club, but I hadn’t shared my bed with anyone. Sure, I’d fucked before, but never had the responsibility or pleasure of sleeping beside another. To sleep with someone was the sign of ultimate trust. To be defenceless in the presence of another? No. It wasn’t an option with my past.

Zel pursed her lips, not saying a word.

“Give in. This is one business transaction I’ll win, dobycha.”

“Whatever you’re calling me. Stop it,” she snarled, her eyes lighting with green fire. “Don’t call me that.”

Her strength and blatant disregard of my request stoked my temper until my body ran hot with feral energy. I wanted this woman to fear me, yet she stood regal and taunting—untouchable.

My eyes fell to her breasts, rising and falling rapidly. “This could’ve been so simple. I’m not asking to hurt you. I’m asking to give you pleasure while taking my own and pay you a handsome sum.” I licked my lips loving the tightness in my belly and pangs in my cock. “I need to fuck you, and the more you fight the worse it gets.”

I moved forward and captured her chin, holding her tight. The intense spark between us returned like a lightning bolt, whizzing and searing, turning my fucking thoughts to mush.

Goddammit, I wanted her.

Her skin glistened, mouth parted. The angry flush faded only to be replaced with colour full of erotic need. I dropped my hand from her chin to her breast.

She froze even as her back arched, forcing more flesh into my palm. Rage battled with flaming lust in her eyes, and I forgot how to fucking breathe as I fondled her, completely consumed by the way her nipple hardened and peaked.

The argument and refusal only hiked my need. My head filled with images of how wet she’d be, how soft she’d feel, how sweet she’d taste.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’ll pay you one hundred thousand dollars.”

Her mouth plopped wide; she didn’t breathe.

I had a sudden psychotic urge to kiss her. Every second I spent touching her brought me back to life, wrenching me from the bones and ashes of my past. She was ambrosia, utopia—a cure.

Fuck, I couldn’t wait much longer. I’d take her over the balcony in full view of the fighters below if she refused. Closing my eyes briefly, I muttered one word but it throbbed with everything I needed. “Please…”

Zel sucked in a shaky breath, her breast still hot in my hand. “One hundred thousand dollars? To do what exactly?”

I had no idea.

Suck my cock; let me do untold things to you. Let me touch you. Fuck you.

A plan formed rapidly in my head. I could keep her for a certain amount of time. By locking her into a contract it would give me time to figure out what the fuck I was doing.

“One month. You’d stay here. With me.”

A thrill of fear shot through me at the thought of her sleeping beside me. Precautions would have to be taken, but it was doable.

Her eyes dropped to my scar, before looking away, denying me access to her thoughts.

That pissed me off. I dropped my hand, letting her breast go. “Scars aren’t contagious, dobycha.”

She shook her head. “Scars aren’t contagious, but your craziness is. What makes you think you can wave money in my face, and I’ll spread my legs for you?”

I crowded her against the glass; my hips pulsed needing to collide with hers.

“Because you feel it. If I touched you right now I’d probably find you’re wet for me. And even though I’m crazy, all I want to do is drive deep inside you—I want to worship you in my own way. I want to adore you by touching you, kissing you, biting you.” I dropped my gaze to her lips, loving the swollen pinkness, the tempting glisten. “Forget about everything but how your body feels. Do you want me? Do you want me to release your anger with my tongue?”

Her eyes met mine swimming and slightly vacant with desire. “You’re messing with my head.” She raised her hands to push me away, but I dodged her touch. “You turn me on, I won’t deny that, but I’m not staying here. I can’t.”

“You can because you need the money. I won’t be satisfied with just once. I need to know I can take you whenever I damn well want. I want to own you for thirty days with no limits.”

She wrapped arms around her body, rolling her shoulders. “Why did it have to happen this way?” She looked up to the ceiling as if she could smite fate for landing her in my path. She looked desolate, confused, and sad, so terribly sad.

My heart jerked; I ran a hand through my hair. I was right. She was like me. More than I knew.

“Life hasn’t been kind to you, has it, dobycha?” The angry dominance left my voice, edging toward soft curiosity.

Zel froze. Her teeth clenched; her sadness was replaced with coldness. “That’s none of your business. And stop calling me that.”

“Tell me your name, agree to my terms, and I’ll call you whatever you want.”

She tilted her chin upward. “Fine, if you want to know so badly. My name is Hazel Hunter, and you’re right. If you touched me now you would find I’m wet for you. Wet for the promise of what you offer, for the anticipation of what it would be like, but it doesn’t matter because one, you’re an asshole, and two, I can’t stay here for a month.”

My cock lurched, picturing the dampness between her legs.

I didn’t like was her refusal yet again. It was getting fucking tiresome.

My stomach twisted at the thought of taming this woman. She wasn’t walking away. She would stay here a month, and I would get rid of this overwhelming obsession and go back to my sexless lonely life.

“Two hundred thousand.” My voice roughened, already imagining her naked to feast on. “I’ll give you two hundred thousand for one month of pure access. I want to buy your obedience, your body, your mind. But most of all I want to buy your secrets.”

I expected her to scream, tighten her tiny fists, and smack me in the face. Instead, everything stilled. The noises of multiple fights downstairs and the soft notes of music faded as Hazel hypnotized me by sucking on her bottom lip. Nervousness etched her face as she cocked her head. “Two hundred thousand?”

I sensed her weakening and knew I’d finally found a figure she’d sell for. “Payable in cash at the end of the month.”

Her eyes lit up as thoughts raced over her face, then faded just as fast. “You truly are desperate.”

My heart stopped. Slamming me back to reality where a perfect goddess like Hazel would never sleep with a gargoyle like me.

Fuck this. Why was I bothering? I could choose any whore to service me and not have to fight and cajole. I switched from wanting her to wanting to throw her to the ground and make her swallow her words.

Her eyes zeroed in on the jagged scar on my cheek. “I’ll tell you what I think of you, Obsidian Fox. Just because you excite some stupid part of my brain and make me want someone for the first time in years doesn’t mean you can act the scarred villain and scare me into your bed. I’m not in the business of selling my soul or fucking strangers for money, but it so happens you’re right. I do need the cash, and I’d be willing to do almost anything, but what I won’t do is put up with a vainglorious asshole. I’ve dealt with enough of them for several lifetimes.”

I never took my eyes off her. An aura of anger shimmered. Vulnerable but fierce—a potent combination for the killer inside. I wanted to break her all while letting her shine.

She laughed suddenly. “You’re insane.” Then she muttered under her breath, “I’m insane.”

My stomach twisted as she locked her spine and turned the full force of her green gaze on me.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, but try to be less of a bastard.” Her hand came out, palm facing upward ready to accept something. “Give me back my knife and ask me politely, gently. Don’t give me a reason to want to use it.”

My heart forgot how to beat, stuttering over itself. Respect braided with lust and I fell further into her trap. Somehow she’d ended up with the power, and I hated it.

Slipping a hand into my pocket, I removed the blade and held it out. My hands clenched. She’s fucking up my life already. My body trembled with the need for pain. I needed to be on my own. I had to find relief from this horror. What was I thinking?

“You’ll stay for one month.”

She nodded, eyes latching onto her knife.

“You’ll let me fuck you however I please.”

Her body tensed but slowly she nodded.

“You’ll stop arguing and answer any question I have?”

Her gaze met mine, a flash of ire in their depths. Finally, she nodded.

I dropped the knife into her waiting palm, careful not to touch her. I doubted my self-control could handle more stimulation at that moment. I felt like I’d been to war, came out bleeding, and not entirely sure who won.

The instant the knife fell into her grip, she wrapped her fingers tight around it and hugged it to her body.

I sensed the moment she came to her conclusion. Fire lit her face and resolution strengthened her body. “You mistreat me, and I’ll make sure you’ll be dickless for the rest of your life. Treat me with respect and desire and I’ll stay.”

Brushing a strand of hair curling around her cheek, she murmured, “I accept your offer, Obsidian Fox. Don’t make me regret it.”