Lucian’s Reign: A Billionaire Romance
Lucian’s Reign: Chapter 10

“Sometimes goodness brings about the most vicious evil.

Because goodness is so easily accepted by people, evil converts it, polluting it until nothing bright is left.

So the innocent souls are trapped in it without a way to escape.

And sooner or later, hell occupied by the devil claims these souls, coating them in darkness.

Because only there do they replace solace.”

Lucian

Lucian, 7 years old

Harsh wind slams into us, and we sway backward, our coats flapping in different directions as the cold air reaches our skin since our torn sweaters serve as little protection from raging Mother Nature.

The cardboard wrapped around our feet—instead of shoes—is soaking wet from the snow, and my toes are slowly freezing, yet we continue to power through it, almost reaching our destination. Even Andreas has gathered all his strength, because he keeps pace with me.

Snowflakes cascade down from the sky, settling on our bodies and melting so quick I open my mouth to quench the thirst present from such a long walk.

We’ve been on the road for hours now, first walking and then slipping into a train where people stayed away from us, too afraid we might touch them.

We took a temporary break near the fire created by a few homeless people who didn’t mind company, and we got warm while sharing the last bit of the breadcrumbs before resuming our journey.

A journey that still gave me hives as too many unknowns surrounded it. But losing an opportunity might have been too foolish because of my distrust.

Or so are the excuses I keep repeating to myself to justify my actions.

“We’re almost there,” Andreas says, excitement pouring from him as he increases his pace, grabbing my elbow and dragging me toward a small townhouse with a white door, identical to all the other houses on this street. “Javier, be polite please,” he warns, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Let’s talk for however long the man wants and then leave with our bellies full.” Hope laces his words as joy settles on his features, and such irrational jealousy sweeps over me, making me cry out inside because I can’t feel it.

Hope. Joy. Happiness.

All these emotions mean nothing to me and only inspire hatred within me as they give a false sense of security, while in fact, it seems this world was created to solely torture me. So how can I hope for a better future?

Or is there a certain group of people who are blessed by the church and God himself, and all their pleadings are heard while the rest of us have to accept the reality?

Reaching the door, Andreas takes a deep breath and knocks on it three times while I look around, replaceing it a bit weird that not a single soul roams the streets, although the cold isn’t the most inviting weather. However, I’ve never in my life seen this secluded neighborhood.

When it opens, a man wearing jeans and sweater greets us, a smile shaping his face as his eyes glisten in surprise. He must be young because he still has no wrinkles. “Hello, boys,” he says, his voice holding traces of something I can’t name as he trails his gaze over us, studying us for forever before he steps back and opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

Andreas bows his head to him, ready to dash inside when I catch his elbow, watching the man warily. The familiar instinct inside me shouts at me to run far, far away from here because despite his friendly manner, a weird energy comes from him, and his continuing stare unsettles me. “Javier,” my friend hisses, pulling at his hand.

My stomach grumbles loudly, and the pain hits me, spreading uneasiness through me, reminding me that a few crumbs wouldn’t cut it for much longer, and Andreas’s eyes soften. “Let’s go.”

Finally, hunger wins my internal struggle and silences the scream urging me to protect myself from the unknown.

As we enter the house, warmth instantly envelops us, slipping into our frozen clothes and sends heat through us, prickling our skin.

The man looks at the wet cardboard and orders, “Remove those.” He opens a small drawer next to us and takes out two pairs of fluffy slippers. “These should keep your feet warm.”

We quickly do as he says and slip into them. Pleasure rushes through me at the soft texture tickling me and soothing the various bruises and cracks in my heels acquired from running without shoes.

He motions for us to follow him, and we do while my eyes drink in the environment around us, needing to replace all the exits and possible escape routes should this go south.

You cannot trust anyone, and once a upon a time, I heard a woman mutter on the street the following phrase.

The free cheese lies only in the mouse trap.

Meaning that when someone gives you something for free, you have to be very careful as he or she might demand something in return.

“Wow!” Andreas exclaims, tightening his coat around him while blinking in awe at the place that could be considered a palace compared to the conditions we live in.

A short hallway leads to a line of closed brown doors. Pop music blasts from speakers, echoing through the space and raising goose bumps on my flesh for some reason, unsettling me.

The wooden floor covered by carpet creaks under our steps, and delicious smells float around, making my stomach grumble again as Andreas licks his lips, clearly hungry too. “Do you think he will talk first and then feed us?” he whispers for my ears only, and I shrug, because the man keeps his back toward us still strolling through the entire hall and the exit becomes farther away.

I notice there aren’t any windows either, so I discreetly rap my knuckles on the wall, wincing when pain travels through me, indicting they are made out of brick or concrete.

So should one scream for help in this house, the chances of anyone hearing are very slim.

Familiar fear sinks into me once again, suspicion nagging on my mind, but I trail after the man, letting myself trust my fate this once.

Maybe the good things I’ve prayed for all these years finally have happened to me, and I don’t want to turn my back on them.

The man walks through an arched entrance into a huge room with leather furniture filling it, several couches and chairs with a dining table in the right corner.

Several bowls hold chips, various candies, and some even have apples.

He points at the couch. “Sit down, boys.”

We share a look, and Andreas clears his throat. “We’re dirty.” And we stink too, which is especially noticeable in the enclosed space.

The man smiles although it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s fine. Sit.” We do as he says, and he drops on the opposite chair, grabbing a notepad and a pen. “Why are you here?” He plucks a cigarette tucked behind his ear and lights it up, throwing the lighter on the floor where I see an ashtray as well, so all he has to do is extend his hand to dispose of the ash.

Andreas shrinks under his invasive stare, so I respond, “We heard from someone that you give food to the likes of us.” He stays silent, inhaling smoke into his lungs. “His name was Dylan.” He chuckles at hearing the name and then clicks his pen, writing something down on the paper.

“What are your names, and how old are you?” he asks, and this makes me pause, wondering why a man would need our names and ages.

Maybe he works for some charity organization? The ones that give away free food on Christmas Day and let us hang out by the tables, always wondering how old we are.

Before I can question it though, Andreas eagerly answers him. “He’s Javier and I’m Andreas. We’re seven.” Or so we think anyway. As if anyone on the streets knows their exact age.

The man writes it all down and then wiggles his nose in distaste. “You need to clean up.”

“What? Why?”

His brow rises at my demanding question, and Andreas elbows me. Clearly his mind is too clouded by the food on the table rather than what all this generosity might entail.

Andreas always prefers fast results, having no patience to wait for anything and never thinks about the consequences it might bring us.

“I’d like to give you some new clothes, and I think it’s better if you wash yourself. Have you ever done it?” Disdain coats his voice and disgust fills his gaze when he sweeps it over us one more time.

Anger sparks inside me because this man offers food to the likes of us, but deep down, he still treats us like the rest of society do.

We are nothing but dirt under their nails; they hate us and wish they never saw us at all, because we don’t fit in their perfect images.

“We won’t do it,” I say and growl at Andreas when he wants to protest. I will not get naked here while we know nothing about this man.

I might be a child, but even I’ve heard certain things that gave me nightmares for days.

The man watches me for a second and the barks a laugh, smashing his cigarette in the ashtray. “You have character. I like it.” He gets up and then motions with his head toward the table. “Dig in, boys.”

Andreas rushes to it, grabbing chips and shoveling them down his throat barely chewing, then reaches for candies, quickly putting stuff in his mouth without even thinking. “Careful. It might make you sick,” I warn him. Eating all this food on an empty stomach isn’t wise.

He ignores me of course, and shaking my head, I pick up an apple, munching on it, and saliva gathers in my mouth at the sour taste.

My body welcomes this sustenance, and I sneak another apple inside my pocket, while Andreas moves toward the chocolates.

The man roams behind us, turning the volume up on the music, and it washes over us while my head gets a little bit dizzy.

Falling on the nearby chair, I cover my ears while trying to control the world spinning around me as strength slowly leaves me, and my eyelids beg me to close them.

A thud echoes from my right, and I have a split second to see Andreas fall on the floor before I finally succumb to the oblivion calling my name, despite the scream in my mind warning about danger.

Pain.

That’s the first thing coming to my mind when I move my head to the side, the cold concrete greeting me, and numbness travels all over my body, pinching my skin.

I must have fallen asleep without wearing a coat again, a price I will have to pay for a whole day as my muscles ache and I can barely move my toes.

My throat feels impossibly dry, and as I raise my legs up, a clanging sound reverberates through the walls as heavy weight settles around my ankles. Instantly my eyes snap open and then scrunch at the blinding light from the lamp above me.

It sways from side to side on the ceiling, brightening up the small space that reminds me of the basement that we call home.

With the only difference that several feet away, there’s a toilet smeared in orange rust with a sink that drips water drop by drop. Several small bowls stand closer to us, overflowing with some disgusting food that reminds me more of vomit and shit.

Chattering echoes in the air, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s my teeth clacking against each other. I’m soaking wet and wearing only my pants. Trembles shake my entire system, and I glance to the side to see Andreas lying next to me, still unconscious but dry.

“Finally, one of the princesses is awake.” The familiar voice speaks up, and I follow the sound, spotting a man standing several feet away, holding a hose in his hand.

However, that’s not what has my whole attention.

No, it’s the man sitting on the chair next to him. He wears a three-piece suit while his gold watch glistens under the light, and he sips something from his glass.

His eyes flicker in amusement, and he winks at me. “Francis, you were right.” He addresses the man for the first time, and I carve this name in my brain so I’ll never forget. “He’s indeed pretty. The clients will love him.”

The clients?

A coldness slips into me that has nothing to do with my wet state. Certain images pop in my head, creating a grim future for me, and I shake Andreas, wanting to wake him up, and then…

Then what?

There is no escape. We came into the trap ourselves because he was so hungry!

“Andreas!” I shout, tapping on his shoulder. “Andreas!”

“Let me help you, Javier,” Francis says right before turning on the hose and spraying water on my friend who springs awake and then groans in pain, palming his head.

I scoot back, detesting the chains restraining me, but only cold concrete meets me, indicating to me there is nowhere to hide from this monster’s prying eyes.

Andreas sits up as well, fear settling on his features, and he crawls closer to me, although right in this moment, I really hate him and hate myself for feeling such emotions.

Resentment is hard to swallow, especially when I knew this will end badly.

Free cheese lies only in the mouse trap.

I should have known with grown-ups, there is always a price to pay for goodness as their true self always includes evilness.

“James, what do you think about this one?”

James.

I carve that name too.

Judging by how he sits and how Francis dances around him, he must be his boss, so whatever they plan to do… he makes all the decisions.

“Pretty as well. I’m already counting the money. Good job.” He slaps Francis on his back, and the man beams at him, pleasure spreading on his face. “Take a picture now so we can add it to the catalogue.”

Francis throws the hose away and grabs the camera lying on the floor. He clicks on it, and then shortly it produces square picture. He waves it in the air and gives them to James who puts it in his jacket pocket.

“Javier,” Andreas whispers, terror coating his voice, and I let him burrow his face in my shoulder while meeting their drilling stares head-on.

I will never show them how this situation truly scares me or allow them to see my weakness, for weaknesses are always used against you.

James gets up, his leather shoes thumping loudly as he comes closer to us. Andreas shivers next to me, but I clench my fists, controlling my emotions.

He grips my chin, his fingers cutting into my skin; the pain travels through my scalp. “Don’t throw silent challenges, boy. Every resistance can be broken.” He removes his hand and then kicks Andreas in the stomach, his piercing scream filling my ears. “Stop being such a coward. They don’t sell well in my business.” He lifts his foot once again, but I cover Andreas, and the shoe connects with my back. The pain slams into me at once; the air hitches in my throat while tears form in my eyes. Andreas rolls into a ball, his pants quickly getting wet, and not because of the water, which only adds to his whimpers while his cheeks redden in humiliation.

James spits on Andreas and orders Francis, “Be extra rough with these two.” I block their view of Andreas who sobs uncontrollably on the floor, and even though it kills me, I will not let them harm him.

He’s all I’ve got in this hell, and I will protect him at all costs.

“They both need to learn a hard lesson.” He fists my hair and tilts my head back as his alcohol breath fans my face. “That they are disposable trash no one gives a shit about.” He pulls at my hair rougher, almost ripping it from my scalp, but I still the cry in my throat, concentrating on the thick vein beating on his neck, imagining what it would be like if I stabbed a knife in it.

Would he think I’m disposable trash no one gives a shit about then?

Would the blood pour from it and weaken him?

Would he then wet his pants in fear and call for help that never comes?

“Lesson number one, boy, always know your place.” With this he straightens up, adjusts his jacket, and walks toward the door while ordering Francis, “Keep them here for a month. Train them well.”

Francis nods and then asks, “What kind of torture do you want?”

“Use everything. I want them exhausted from pain and dreading facing another day. If they survive this then we’ll take them to the main quarters. They’ll be perfect.’’ He snaps his fingers. “Bring a few guys in here.”

“Will do, boss.”

James sends a glance my way one last time and smiles, his white teeth in full view, and I have a deep desire to knock them all out. “You will lose this game, boy. Play by the rules, or you’ll die.”

Die?

No.

Never.

Survive.

I will survive until I can beat them.

And then I’m going to kill them all.

Esmeralda

“Is everything okay, miss?” A security guard finally reaches us as Lucian sends me a questioning look, clearly indicating that the ball right now is in my court. “Miss?” he asks again, his gaze darting between us both while his eyes narrow on the rings.

“Yes,” I reply in a hushed whisper and then clear my throat, adding more strength to my voice. “Just talking to my husband.” Lucian squeezes my fingers between his and then lowers our joined hands.

He smiles at the security guard. “I’m afraid my wife and I had a little disagreement about the honeymoon.” His thumb runs across my fingers, and I jerk in his hold, craving to tear my hand from him but can’t do so in front of the still-suspicious guard. “She wanted New York, and I preferred Hawaii.” He sighs dramatically, and I barely refrain from scratching his face to wipe away the mask he wears, fooling all these people around him.

The guard turns his attention to me. “Is that true?”

Since there is no other choice but to lie, I widen my mouth in a forced grin, leaning slightly on Lucian. “Like my husband said. A little disagreement that I took too seriously.”

He then addresses the lady by the counter. “Did she want a ticket to New York?” She nods and he gives us one last look. “Okay then. Have a good day!”

“You too,” I reply and then huff in exasperation when Lucian pulls me toward the entrance, my skirt trailing after me as I have to take quick steps to match his tempo, and the stupid veil tugs painfully on my scalp, making me want to rip it away, so I do just that.

The hairpins fall on the floor with tiny dings, and I throw the veil in the nearest trash can, detesting the thing.

Lucian moves flawlessly in the crowd, navigating us smoothly between rushing bodies while protecting me from anyone who might touch me, and in a few more short steps, we stride outside.

I inhale the fresh air into my lungs, welcoming the smell of wet concrete into my nostrils while the small droplets continue to tap over the asphalt and graze my cheeks, washing away all the worries for a moment in time while nature shows its power to the world.

Wind swirls around me, billowing my hair back. Shivers run down my spine, and I rub my arms only to freeze when Lucian throws his jacket over me, his warmth instantly surrounding me.

He places his hand on my back and pushes me to the car parked nearby.

George springs out and quickly runs to the back passenger door, opening it wide while motioning with his hand for me to get in. “Mrs. Cortez. Congratulations on the wedding.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, and he frowns albeit still nodding. I gather my skirts up, get into the car, and plop onto the cushions among all the silk of my dress.

Lucian enters the vehicle from the other side, and in a few short seconds, George drives off, pulling onto the narrow road that leads to a highway while rain falls on the windshield, blocking most of the view.

Pressing my head to the window, I focus on the blurry, colorful lights illuminating the airport as the rain intensifies once again, adding to the chaos thundering inside me.

My thumb slides over the rings on my finger, and I glance at them, studying them or rather what they represent.

They have given me a title I will wear until the day I die because there are no divorces in the Cortez dynasty, one of the reasons they always carefully chose their spouses.

Mrs. Cortez.

For a lot of women, that would be a blessing, but for me… honestly, I don’t know what to think anymore.

Exhaustion consumes my body and mind. A person can fight for only so long, until he or she accepts the challenges destiny has bestowed on them and wave a white flag in surrender.

Being dramatic won’t really help me in the current situation, but how do I play nice with a man who doesn’t play by the rules and stays cryptic on most days?

Right in this moment, all my earlier resistance and plans to expose his persona sound so idiotic. Did I really think I could go against Lucian Cortez and win?

Maybe there was merit in my grandmother’s words. She always considered me too damned naïve for my own good and preached it would inevitably be my downfall one day.

“What did you do to Paul?” My question breaks the silence around us, and I notice how George briefly catches my gaze in the rearview mirror before tightening his lips. “I ran away by myself, so whatever punishment you have in mind for him, please don’t do it.” The request tastes bitter on my tongue; however, the idea of anyone suffering because of me is unsettling.

Lucian presses the button and the window slides open a little, enough to let the wind in but not for the rain to splash on us.

He takes out a cigarette from his pocket, puts it in his mouth, and flicks a lighter, the orange flames dancing in the cold air, and lights it up. “Dropped him at the church on my way here,” he replies breezily as if we’re discussing the freaking weather. He inhales smoke into his lungs and then puffs it out, creating a fog around us.

Does he expect me to believe he hasn’t done anything to the priest when he found out about his involvement in my escape?

“And before that?” Dread coats my voice, yet I push the words out. “Did you torture him?” I might have said using any weapon to outsmart Lucian was worth it, but I won’t be able to live with the knowledge if the poor priest died because of me.

He chuckles, replaceing my worry amusing, and exhales more smoke toward the window as the scenery passes, already showing endless rows of trees, which means we’ll be at the mansion soon. “Your imagination astonishes me.”

“Well, I married a murderer. Forgive me for my judgment.” Sarcasm seeps through me while I fist my skirt, doing my best to control my temper and not slap him hard in the face.

No need to antagonize the beast.

“My torture lasts longer, gatita, than forty minutes.” I still at this admission, swallowing hard, and he chuckles again. “Paul is fine. Why would I hurt my friend who did exactly what I wanted?” He must read confusion on my face at this statement because he elaborates. “You asked him for help, and he did. The safety of my family should come above our friendship, always.” I blink in surprise, never expecting this from him. “You’re very precious to me, Esmeralda.” He extends his arm and taps on the filter, letting the ash drop on the road.

Thousands of emotions rush through me, all more hectic than the last, because none of them make sense to me, but his words create twisted webs around my rational mind, polluting it with doubts and inconsistencies.

Doubts and inconsistencies that urge me to discover his secrets and understand this man who now is my husband.

How is it possible to fall in love with the charming prince he presents in my company and despise the villain he truly is who commits such hideous crimes?

But like Mom said, you can never fight against someone who is stronger than you, and if I don’t replace peace in this relationship, he will crush me.

Whining and then acting like a victim won’t help me either. And besides, that’s not the route I long to take.

There must be more to his deeds and the past, and I intend to discover what’s going on around me, because a man cannot have such duality.

Not Lucian.

Not when he has people who support what he does and still love him.

However, one question remains that somehow I think holds all the keys to this situation.

“Why did you marry me?” I ask, and since he ignores me, continuing to play with his cigarette, I snatch it from his mouth and throw it outside, glaring at him. “Answer my question!”

The energy changes at my order at once, transforming to dangerous and wicked as his brown orbs flash in warning, while his body tenses and the air hitches in my throat.

The screen rises, separating us from George, and my yelp reverberates through the car when Lucian grabs my hand and yanks me onto his lap as my skirt flaps around us and his jacket slips from my shoulders, dropping on the floor.

Placing my hands on his shoulders for balance, I settle my ass on his lap, against the bulge pushing at his zipper while his arm wraps around my waist, trapping me in his embrace, keeping me in place when I try to scoot back.

His splayed palm settles on my rapidly beating heart, and I still, our gazes clashing while the scorching heat billows between us. The damned desire rears its head again as he glides his hand up to my neck, brushing his thumb against my pulse and murmuring, “Mi amor, su nombre es Rebecca Esmeralda Cortez. Do you know what it means?” His deep and husky voice causes goose bumps to rise on my flesh as he cups my neck, shifting me closer to him. My nails cut into his shoulders while his nicotine-filled breath floats between us. “Power. Money. Status.” He laces his fingers in my hair, titling my head back and exposing my neck for his hungry mouth. “Whatever you want, you will get. All the riches this world has to offer belong to you. Just wish for them, and they’ll be yours.” He skims his lips over my skin, and my hold on him tightens as lust awakens, along with shame. This man doesn’t deserve my capitulation, but self-loathing has no power right now. “And if someone so much as looks at you wrong, I’ll destroy them.” His lips travel upward, nipping on my chin before swiping his tongue over the surface, soothing the sting while the timbre of his voice deepens. “Porque tú eres mi esposa.”

A shiver runs down my spine at him calling me his wife, possessiveness coating his claim while the hand on my waist flexes.

“Except my freedom. You won’t ever let me go,” I whisper against his lips as they brush mine, barely grazing them while my hands fist his shirt. “You’re condemning me to a lifetime with a murderer.”

“What scares you more, mi amor?” He bites my lower lip, tugging it a little before sucking it into his mouth and leaving his mark there. “The idea of being married to a murderer—” Our raspy breaths mingle between us when he presses his thumb on my jaw, opening my mouth wide for his invasion. “—or your body coming aflame under his touch?” My eyes close, the chaos inside me growing at his question, because it has so much merit and with that, resentment toward him mixes with the desire rapidly spreading through my veins.

My whole body burns, demanding he soothe the fire he started yet despising him for uncovering the truth I wanted to stay hidden.

He swallows my moan when he places his lips on mine, slipping his tongue inside and gliding it against mine, inviting it into the familiar dance, hungrily possessing my mouth and claiming it all over again after a long absence.

Passionate. Dirty. All-consuming where nothing but him remains. The buzzing in my ears rings, urging me to rip his shirt open and run my palms over his carved muscles, sinking my nails into them so he will wear all my marks too.

The kiss becomes more heated, our mouths moving in tandem, where he demands my surrender to his silent command, and I freely give it to him.

A relieved sob escapes me, and I palm his head, gluing myself to him, not leaving even an inch of space between us. He tugs at my hair harder, deepening our kiss, and sucks my tongue, lightly scraping it with his teeth.

Pain and pleasure combine, awakening every hair on my body while spreading through me in waves. My core dampens when he puts his hand on my thigh, sliding it up to my hips, taking advantage of the slit.

When he separates our mouths, my protesting groan echoes through the space and I throw my head back while he nibbles on my collarbone and bites on the mounds of my breasts.

“If you hadn’t run away from me, we’d already be in bed.” He grips my hip, his fingers digging into my skin, and a gasp escapes me. “You’d lie on my satin sheets with your legs spread as I traced my tongue over your pussy, feasting on your flesh.” My breathing speeds up at the images he creates in my head, and my core clenches, silently begging him to continue. His fingers glide to my panties, pushing them away and his knuckles scrape my walls. “I would slide one, two, three fingers inside your tight little hole, stretching you wide for my dick.” His thumb flicks over my clit, and I jerk in his hold, threading my fingers in his hair. Our lips meet again in a toe-curling kiss that lasts forever before the need for air becomes stronger than his tongue caressing mine. “You’d whimper and whine under me, begging to come, and I would deny you the pleasure until I’m thrusting into you and feeling you clamp around me, squeezing every drop of cum from me.” He bites on my earlobe and whispers, “You shouldn’t have run, gatita. For your body and soul are forever mine.”

My whole body buzzes in awareness; lust consumes me while self-loathing and guilt ride me hard, flashing in my mind all the despicable deeds this man has done, down to blackmailing me into this marriage. But my body welcomes him every single time, unable to refuse him.

As if he holds the key to my resistance and resolve and masterfully uses it to his advantage.

“I hate you, Lucian Cortez,” I whisper, resting my forehead on his while my fingers grip his hair, catching my breath, as the rain still taps on the car. The lack of movement announces we have arrived at the mansion.

“If that’s your hate, mi amor, I don’t need your love.”

“It’s primitive desire. It means and changes nothing,” I hiss in his face, sliding back onto the seat and adjusting my skirt before fleeing from the car past a surprised George who holds up an open umbrella for me.

Shaking my head at it, I clench my skirt and race toward the door, my heels splashing water on the asphalt. In short strides I fly inside, only coming to a halt when I notice how hundreds of candles light up all the hallways and the entire first floor, creating a romantic atmosphere that includes rose petals spread over all the marble.

Complete silence greets me, and then I notice a small note on the nearby table. I snatch it up and read it.

Everyone is sleeping in the guesthouse tonight.

We won’t be back until late morning.

Harold

Heat surrounds me before his scent envelops me, and in the next second he stands right behind me, peeking at the note. “Harold always has harbored a romantic soul in that heart of his.” Amusement dances at the edge of his tone, and I crumple the note and throw it away while marching to the stairs. “Where are you going, gatita?”

“Upstairs.”

“It’s our wedding night.”

I look over my shoulder. “Then enjoy it by yourself.”

He clacks his tongue while unbuttoning his vest and putting it on the handrail. “I don’t think so.”

This man is impossible!

Gritting my teeth, I will all my self-control into my palm and somehow keep my voice calm, even though a storm is brewing in my veins. “What happened in the car was a mistake. Please accept it and don’t bother me tonight.” He promised not to force me, right? So he has no leg to stand on, and although he flaunts his mysterious persona, he will never go back on his word.

With this, I rush upstairs and quickly reach the master bedroom. I groan inwardly when I see the same decor welcomes me here. The only difference is that they’ve cleaned up from earlier, dumped the petals on silky white sheets, and a small table has different snacks on it—from strawberries to melted chocolate, and a bottle of champagne stands inside a bucket full of ice.

I hear his footsteps echoing in the hallway and spin around as he leans on the doorjamb in all his dark charisma. Several buttons on his shirt are already unbuttoned, showcasing his tan skin. “A mistake, mi amor?” he asks lazily as his fingers slide to another button, and I raise my eyes to his, his brown orbs sparkling in lust.

“Yes.” I straighten up and grab the door. “Just basic desire. Any man would have done.” The minute the words slip past my lips, I know I’ve made a horrible mistake.

His entire demeanor changes as the air around us electrifies by a thousand, and his eyes darken in anger and something else, sending prickles of awareness through me and alerting me to the upcoming danger as the beast within him didn’t appreciate my carelessly thrown remark.

I try to shut the door in his face, but he blocks it, and it bounces against the wall. I take a step back. “Lucian.”

“Anyone would have done, mi amor?” He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and then moves to his wrists, removing the cufflinks.

I take another step back as he takes one forward. “You’re a murderer,” I repeat like a broken record, more for my ears than his. Thunder echoes in the sky, quite fitting to what transpires between us right now. “How can you expect me to accept that?” I take another step back, carefully avoiding the candles spread around the perimeter while my heart beats wildly in my chest. Especially when he drops his shirt to the floor, his muscles coming into view, and betraying desire sinks into my bones, demanding I run toward him… so I do the exact opposite.

I take several steps back and gasp when my spine connects with the hard wall, reaching a dead-end from where there is no escape as the man approaches me slowly. His powerful presence almost freezes time where only his actions remain.

Fury comes from him in waves, slamming into me, because I dared to suggest my body would have responded the same to anyone.

When in fact it craves him, always him, only him.

“You’ll deal. You’ll learn to accept it.” He reaches me in three short strides and splays his palms on either side of my head, caging me in. “I kill who deserves it. I will never hurt you. This should be enough for you.”

“It does not make it right!” I shout at him, slapping his chest, but he doesn’t even budge under my assault. “How can I accept it without knowing anything? Tell me. Explain to me. Do something to change my mind about you!”

“No. Accept me as I am.”

He wants everything from me but offers nothing truly meaningful in return. How can we even have a relationship without trust?

Men who deserve it?

If that’s the case, why did he lie before the wedding when I asked him the question?

“This is madness, Lucian!”

“We do not live in a perfect world, mi amor. Mine is dark and hideous, yours is safe and bland.” He leans his hips into me, earning himself a groan when his hard-on pushes against my core. “Yet we fit perfectly together.” I stare at him as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Your light gives me reprieve in my darkness and my darkness—”

“Scares me,” I finish for him, exhaling heavily. “It scares me, Lucian. I cannot trust a villain.”

Even if the villain is obsessed with me and acts like a madman who’ll never let me go but protects me like the most precious thing to his nonexistent heart.

“My darkness unsettles you and doesn’t let you live in a protective bubble where emotions don’t exist. Mi amor, you are alive when you’re with me.” He wraps his hand around my neck, sending heat through me, and leans closer, pressing his forehead against mine. “And despite my past and all the other shit, you still want me. Admit it and accept that fact. Settle your mind.”

The love blooming in my chest toward a handsome villain doesn’t settle anything, but instead, it pushes me down the abyss to where I’m flying rapidly, not knowing what awaits me at the bottom.

And despite the darkness and the murders and whatever else he harbors in his shattered soul, I’m still willing to take the leap.

But how can I say it out loud?

“You’re a curse I can’t break, Lucian. A beast that will never be a prince because your heart is too dark and damaged for love. Wanting you is maddening, and hating you is exhausting,” I whisper and gasp as his mouth slams on mine.

His tongue slips inside to engage mine in an all-consuming passionate kiss, and when they finally touch, lust floods through my veins and replaces all common sense.

His bad deeds, my doubts, and everything else vanish, leaving me alone in the powerful storm that has no mercy for me and shows me no reprieve from the onslaught of emotions crushing me one by one, demanding my surrender.

My moan echoes between us while his hands sneak inside the plunging V of my dress. His fingers brush over the mounds of my breasts and raise goose bumps, which make me shift restlessly as electricity travels straight to my core.

Tilting my head back, I let him deepen the kiss, owning my mouth in ways I’ve never experienced before. Every stab and brush of his tongue signals his power over me and reminds me I married a villain tonight.

A villain who wants to collect what’s rightfully his.

His wedding night.

My lungs burn from lack of oxygen, so I grip his hair hard and pull him away, gulping for a deep breath. His lips skim lower, nipping on my chin before sliding to my neck where he opens his mouth wide, sucking on my skin so hard prickles of pain envelop me, only highlighting the pleasure spinning its twisted webs on me. “Do you know what I wanted to do the minute I saw you in this dress walking down the stairs, mi amor?” he whispers, kissing the abused flesh and moving farther, cupping my breasts through the cloth and squeezing hard. My peaked nipples ache as he tugs at my dress, exposing the rosy buds to his hot mouth. He bites on a breast and I jolt in his arms. “To push you against the nearest wall, hike your skirt up around your hips, and fuck you so hard the entire house would hear you scream for me. For the man who is a monster, yet you crave him anyway.”

The air hitches in my throat, and my fingers scrape his scalp. When his teeth graze the tip of my nipple, the sensation cascades through me. Instantly he flicks his tongue over it, soothing the sting. Then he moves his attention to the other nipple, repeating the action. I pull him closer, needing him to lavish them in ways only he knows, while the blazing pool inside me grows by the second, threatening to erupt at any moment.

My mind screams at me to stop this madness, to run away from this addiction. His every touch is a deadly drug that might get me killed if I’m not careful, but my heart…

My stupid heart controls my body and urges me to trust the villain, to believe there is more than meets the eye with this man, and that deep down in his soul, goodness resides.

Goodness that he might not show to everyone, but it’s there and everything female in me reacts to it.

His soul might be scarred, but it’s not beyond saving.

His shifts lower, sinking to his knees while his mouth trails over my stomach. Then he lifts my leg and rests it on his shoulder, the dress’s slit giving me the freedom to move. His fingers run over the outer skin of my thigh, up and down, creating a restlessness inside me and causing me to whisper, “Lucian.” Lacing my fingers tighter in his hair, I sway my hips forward, seeking his mouth as I feel the hot breath on me. My core clenches in anticipation, and I throw my head back, pressing it hard against the wall.

“Because you are mine,” he says. He places his hands on my core, and I moan when he fists the panties and rips them away, opening my dripping core to his view. “Ah, mi amor. Your pussy is so wet, begging for your husband to fuck it until you forget your own name.” A loud cry escapes me when he thrusts his tongue inside me, swirling it deep, while his fingers dig into my ass cheeks, clenching them and keeping me still for his onslaught.

The combination of the scorching heat traveling all over me and the sting drive me insane, craving to reach the high he is capable of giving me. I rock my hips in time with his movements, welcoming every stab of his tongue roaming between my folds and leaving invisible marks on it.

He moves upward, licking me from bottom to top, circling around my clit before trapping it in his mouth, sucking on it hard. I groan, pulling at his hair, needing him to be even closer, too afraid he might change his mind and abandon me with this unbearable ache.

His tongue presses on my clit, creating tremors rushing through me while intense sensations envelop me. My core is demanding his hard cock to fill it to the brink and stop this madness consuming me with each second.

One of his hands drifts to my core as he sucks on my lips, one by one, the smacking sounds echoing in the room. My moan and his groans mix together before he slips his tongue deep inside me again. His thumb brushes against my clit in time with his movements. Desire lights a fire within me that spreads rapidly through my blood, threatening to burn me right along with everything else.

Sweat breaks on my skin and my breathing speeds up as pleasure shakes me in electric waves, rocking me, pushing me toward the invisible line where only feelings remain and complete oblivion awaits me, promising to wrap me tight in its clutches and never let me go.

Just like the man who brings me so much pleasure. I’m afraid I’m going to burst, and I whisper, “Lucian, please.” My hands sneak to his nape, my nails sinking into his skin, and his growl vibrates my flesh, sending tickling sensations through me, which only intensify the inferno flaring in me.

He slides his tongue out, trailing his mouth up and down, his nose rubbing against my clit while my core clenches from the emptiness, needing his hard cock stretching me and making me forget about anything else.

My entire being weeps for this man, coveting him more than my next breath, and I gasp when two of his fingers enter me, diving deep, while he rolls his lips around my clit. His tongue flicks it back and forth as lust spreads in waves all over me.

Biting my lip, I close my eyes and give in to the desire blanketing me from head to toe as the man plays my body so masterfully. He knows just how much pressure to use to produce the emotions he wants to drive me insane from the all-consuming need nothing can soothe.

Nothing but him, that is. Although right at this moment, he loves to torture me, reminding me I’ve married a villain and not a prince.

The dress plasters against my perspiration-covered skin; my hands clench, wanting to rip it from me and hoping the wind whooshing around us as thunder echoes in the distance might bring the relief. My skin is so taut I’m afraid it might rip.

His fingers slip out, his tongue replacing them once again, and I groan in frustration; my desire is so strong I can taste it in my mouth. “Lucian, please. Fuck me already!” I almost shout the last part, and with one last long lick, he gets up, his lips glistening. I expect him to listen to me, except he doesn’t.

He grips each side of the V of my dress and tears it in two, the material dropping by my feet. Then he spins me around, my back pressed against his front, his hard-on pulsing between us. He wraps his hand around my hair, tilting my head back until it almost rests on his shoulder as he leans closer to my ear. “You don’t order me around in bed, mi amor.” He bites my neck, sucking on the skin hard, and then flicks his tongue over his mark.

The man will leave no doubt after tonight about who owns this body and how the princess willingly went to bed with the villain so no one will dare come and save her.

“Lucian, stop this,” I beg, wanting to tangle my fingers in his hair, but he pushes me forward several steps, until I fall on the bed on my hands and knees, my ass sticking up in the air while he keeps hold of my hair.

A slapping sound rocks between us, and the skin on my ass burns from his hot palm as tremors rush through me, along with the thrill of the unknown. “I don’t need instructions in bed, mi amor. Especially when it comes to my woman.” He lets me go, and I arch my back when he places his mouth on my ass cheek, licking over the sting before shifting to the other one. His hand moves up and down my slit, circling around my entrance, but not diving inside. I sob, my hands clenching around the silky bedsheet. “So wet and mine.” I sway toward him, anticipating he’ll grip my hips tight and drive into me, finally ending this torture and sending me flying over the edge, letting the pleasure soak me up.

His mouth trails up, his lips skimming over my back to my nape, and then I yelp when he flips me over and stands by the edge of the bed. The lightning flashing in the sky brightens the room, emphasizing once again his handsomeness.

I sit up, breathing heavily as I watch him unbuckle his belt. The soft whooshing sound when he removes his belt creates goose bumps on my flesh, my heartbeat speeding up as he drops it on the floor.

I’ve never seen him fully naked, and my eyes drink in his male beauty, wanting to study him for hours and touch every inch of him until I memorize every small detail.

He palms his hard length and crooks his finger at me.

Slipping my heels off, I get on my knees, crawling toward him and pause at the edge, extending my hand to him, and he grabs it, putting it against his cock. Instinctively I squeeze the thick organ as my core spasms, imagining it inside me soon, earning myself a groan from him that sends a thrill down my spine at the display of power he has given me. Rubbing up and down his length, I silently plead for him to allow me to do what I wanted last night.

At this point, common sense nor the sense of right or wrong have a place between us.

He rubs his thumb over my lips before pushing it inside, and I lick. His eyes flare at the contact while my core dampens, craving to discover what he thinks right now. “Would you like a taste, mi amor?” I nod without thinking. He presses my chin until my mouth opens wide. Then his other hand lowers the zipper of his pants, and his cock springs free.

A bit lost at what I’m supposed to do now, I run my fingers over the sensitive organ, tracing the thick vein. He hisses a little, and his hand travels to my hair, threading his fingers in it and holding it in place.

He tilts my head back until our eyes meet, his absolutely dark while mine are slightly lost, and he drags me upward as he leans closer.

He gives me a deep, passionate kiss, sharing my taste and I groan, angling my head for better access, wanting to stay in this pose forever and let him ravish my mouth in bruising kisses.

His cock pushes against my stomach, the precum smearing my skin, which only intensifies the desire raging within me. He finishes the kiss, our breath mingling together. “Whatever you do, it will drive me insane.” His words ease the nervousness still present in me despite the lust demanding I discover his taste. “You know why, mi amor?” I shake my head as he bites on my lower lip, tugging it to the side before flicking his tongue over it. “Because this innocent mouth is only mine.” His words should spark anger inside me; it’s not like I waited my whole life to save my virginity for him. But somehow they have a different effect on me, wanting him to claim this part of me too.

I get down again, his fingers still laced in my hair, and scoop the precum with my tongue, his groan reverberating through the room. His tangy-salty taste hits my tongue, and electricity zips through me; my core clenches, the swirling pool growing bigger inside me and flaring with brighter intensity demanding to take my time, enjoying every drop he provides.

The blue vein pulses on his cock, and I trace my tongue over it, slowly reaching the base as his hips jerk. His body grows tense with each second, signaling to me his barely controlled desire, and I wonder for how much longer he will allow me to play with him before it becomes too much for him.

I put my hands on his ass for better balance, sinking my nails into him, I continue to explore him, loving having him at my mercy. And I wonder if my touch brings him as much pleasure as when he feasts on me.

At the thought of tasting our combined fluids, a tortured moan escapes me, and a sinister smile flashes on his face. “Ah, my dirty gatita. Those expressive ocean eyes of yours cannot hide a thing from me.” His skin is so incredibly soft here, and I wrap my hand around him, sliding up and down, which causes him to tighten his hold on my hair as he angles my head toward the tip of his cock. It grazes my cheek and moves closer to my mouth where he rubs it over my lips from side to side, not letting me trap it in my mouth. “Pleading with me to let you finally wrap this pretty mouth, designed to tempt a saint let alone a sinner, around your husband’s dick.” As if obeying a command, I suck on the head while still stroking him, welcoming every leak of his cum on my tongue, while he hisses above me, pulling at my hair hard. But I pay no attention; my whole focus is on his cock and how helpless he seems in this moment, driven only by the desire to own my mouth.

Mine.

Because he is mine.

His possessive streak must have rubbed off on me too. The idea of anyone even thinking about touching my man sends rage through me, and the green-eyed monster awakens, yearning to claim him in some way too so everyone knows to stay away.

He might be a villain, but he’s my villain.

Tentatively, I pull him deeper into my mouth, inch by agonizing inch, his cock so impossibly thick my core weeps in distress. Placing my splayed palm on my stomach, I glide it lower until my finger enters me, serving as a pale substitute for the thing it craves the most and only adding to my misery instead of bringing relief. My peaked nipples beg him to soothe the sting.

His gruff voice breaks the silence around us. “Is your pussy wet, mi amor?”

I groan at the question, the vibration most likely caressing his flesh, and he moans. He grips my hair, his nails scraping over my scalp, and he pushes deeper inside me. My eyes water, but I keep him in my mouth, my hand working in tandem with my tongue. “Dripping for your husband, isn’t it? Begging to come from my dick and my dick only.” Catching his gaze, I almost stop breathing at the lust scorching me, as if his whole existence depends on me and me alone.

A monster dangerous to everyone but me, for I’m his most prized possession and beloved toy who he will keep by his side always.

I drag my mouth back, my teeth scraping against his skin, and my tongue flicking over the tip before wrapping my lips around it again, sucking in deep, and sliding farther than before by relaxing my throat. My thumb presses against my clit, sensations enveloping me and threatening to consume me whole, all while my middle finger slips in and out of me, almost taking me to the passionate high yet still leaving me feeling empty. “Not enough is it, mi amor?” He tugs on my hair until his cock slips from my mouth with a muted popping sound. My neck arches to meet his gaze. “This delectable body is already addicted to my tongue, fingers, and dick.” His huskily uttered words create a frenzy, a pulse that beats so wildly a little touch can make it erupt into pieces because their truth rings in the air. “And no one or nothing else will ever do.” He pulls me up once again, slamming his mouth on mine, and we groan when our tastes mingle, transforming into something uniquely us, and solidifies his words, because I cannot ever imagine seeking my pleasure elsewhere.

The bruising kiss is brief. Then his hand grasps mine and lifts it between us, my whimpers echoing between us. “Taste your desire for me, mi amor.” He places the tip of my finger on my lips, smearing it on me before muttering something incoherent under his breath, bonding us again in a heated kiss. My feminine scent teases my nostrils while his powerful masculine one sends tremors all over me, the electric jolts nipping my skin.

I’m about to circle my arms around his neck, bringing us closer, when he separates us. I groan in protest that quickly transforms into a squeal when he sends me flying, my back hitting the mattress as I bounce a little.

Catching my breath and removing my hair from my face, I rise up on my elbows. “Lucian!” Accusation laces my tone, and I look at him only to swallow harshly when he takes off his pants, standing naked.

My God, but he is… gorgeous.

The familiar itch starts in my palms, and I whisper, “Can I paint you?” My mind already swirls with different scenarios in my head where I can depict him like all those Greek gods, strolling among nature in all his handsome glory, his carved muscles on full display. My mood sours quickly though when I think about someone else seeing him. “Forget it. I won’t do it.”

He chuckles, the sound washing over me, filling my cells with happiness and conflicted emotions because they envelop me in warmth. “Don’t want to share, mi amor?”

“I will never share, Lucian! So if you think… What are you doing?” My brows furrow when I notice him walking to the table, picking up a plate full of strawberries and a bowl of melted chocolate. “Lucian.” My whole being buzzes with the need for his hard length to enter me over and over again, but my husband, it seems, has different plans.

And his sweet torture might kill me.

“Ever since I heard you moan when you ate that strawberry in the garden, I’ve wanted to do this.” He pops one strawberry inside his mouth, coming toward me and resting his knee between my legs, making me bend mine, digging my heels into the mattress to create room for him.

He rubs another strawberry over my lips before pressing harder on it, and I have no choice but to open my mouth, welcoming the berry, the coldness bringing relief to my dry throat.

My loud gasp echoes in the night when he pours chocolate over me, the brown liquid traveling from my chest to my stomach and moving to my navel. Not hot enough to burn me, but it awakens every nerve in my body, my skin aching from the contact while maddening lust calls my name, tugging me closer to the pleasure my entire being begs for.

The chocolate slides underneath me, smearing the sheets, and I gather my hair, placing it above my head, away from the sticky liquid.

Arching my back, I whimper, “Lucian, please.” I try to close my thighs, needing friction to satisfy the craving that rages inside me like the thunder rocking the sky, but his powerful form does not allow it.

Instead, he lays several strawberries on my body, one by one, creating a trail leading to my core, then places the bowl and the plate by the bed.

He slides up, looming over me, before delivering a passionate kiss. The fresh strawberry taste hits my tongue, and we lock in an embrace, drinking from each other’s mouth while the tip of his cock pushes against my entrance, just enough to drive me insane but not enough to do anything else.

My hands thread in his hair, grasping it and pulling him to me, my legs wanting to wrap around him, but once again he denies me.

He shifts his hips back, swallowing my groan and sob as my body hurts so much despite the pleasure sinking into my bones.

Moving his mouth to my chin, nipping on it and then shifting to my neck, he gives me soft kisses as he moves lower and lower, licking the chocolate on the way. “Mi hermosa mujer.” My beautiful woman. “Soy sólo tuyo.” I’m only yours.

Heat travels through me at his softly whispered words as he runs his tongue around my nipple, the skin around it puckering. He traps it between his lips, nibbling on it before sucking hard.

Pleasure and pain surround me. I claw at his neck, pressing him firmer to my flesh and welcoming every flick of his tongue while the tension grows within me. I throw my head back, giving him better access while sensations rush all over me, concentrating at my core. And if he just rubs his cock over it, he might…

“No, no, no,” I cry out when he glides to my other breast, repeating the action while our chests squash the strawberries between us, and I feel the cold juice sliding down my side. “Lucian, please,” I beg, tugging on his hair, probably bringing him pain, but I don’t care.

With one last lick, he moves lower, scooping up the chocolate and strawberries on his way. His tongue swirls inside my belly button before biting my stomach, marring my skin. His strong hands slide under me, his fingers digging into my ass cheeks as he settles between my thighs, his hot breath fanning my core, and it contracts. “Lucian, no,” I protest, thrashing my head from side to side. “Come here and just fuck me already.”

He chuckles, nipping on the inside of my thigh before wiping his face on it. Then shifting to the other one, he sucks hard, no doubt leaving a hickey behind. “What did I tell you about ordering me in bed, mi amor?” That’s all the warning I get before he opens his mouth wide and places it on my core. I jerk upward; my skin is too sensitive for such pleasure right now, but he holds me firmly in place, delving his tongue deep inside me, pushing against something that drives me insane and promises me release from this agony consuming my body.

My blood boils inside my veins, my skin so taut I wish to claw at it while I’m so hot I can barely breathe, all while my man roams between my inner walls and then sucks on my lips one by one, trailing his tongue to my clit. “I could feast on your pussy for hours, mi amor, and it wouldn’t be enough.” His words tickle my skin, and I hiss when he sucks my clit, flicking his tongue back and forth and then sliding his lips downward. His tongue enters me once again, and my core clenches around him. My hands palm his head when I place one foot on his shoulder, grinding on his tongue while the invisible chains keeping me from flying up high almost disappear. My eyes close, and I succumb to the emotions coming at me in heavy waves ready to claim me.

But then his tongue is gone… and his warmth too.

I groan in resignation, despising the torture. My eyes snap open to see him looming above me, his mouth glistening as he says, “The first time you come as my wife, you’ll do it on my dick with my seed claiming your tight pussy.”

Yes, please!

I sob in relief when he tips my chin up, kissing me hard and deep, my arms circling his neck and pressing him closer while he widens my legs, slamming into me.

Our combined groans fill the air, his tongue more relentless in my mouth as he turns the kiss more heated and passionate. He pulls back only to thrust hard again, all his movements precise and calculated, designed to send me into a spiral of madness from where there is no reprieve or escape.

My core stretches around his thick length, every nerve in my body filling with anticipation and pleasure; somehow this time around, he feels different inside me.

The sensations are much higher than before. I lock my legs on his back all while he continues to drive inside me, pushing us on the bed. I tear my mouth away, gulping for a breath and then connect us again, needing to be filled by him everywhere as the upcoming storm, which wants to consume me, scares me even if I run toward it, needing to reach it before I burst around him. And all while he owns me.

I think how safe I feel in his embrace, knowing that the man might be deadly, but nothing can hurt me as long as he is close, because he would slay all the dragons and even princes on the way to the princess.

After all, villains make their own rules, and they never willingly give away what belongs to them; they’re always prepared for the attack.

His thrusts speed up, becoming more frantic, while our kisses desperately try to deepen our connection even more. Our desire floods over us rapidly, ready to consume us both.

Breathing heavily, I take my mouth away and slide my lips to his shoulder, biting hard as my nails claw at his back. He hisses, driving into me so hard the air sticks in my throat.

One. Two. Three times.

I cry out, the peak sending me over the edge as my core spams around him. He thrusts into me a few more times before he throws his head back, roars, and spills inside me.

His body falls on mine, and I hug him tight, breathing in our scents floating in the air. Even though our sticky, sweaty bodies are plastered against each other, I do not wish to move. I want to hold on to this moment a while longer.

Before everything else comes crashing back on me.

“Now truly, welcome to my life, mi amor.” Lucian’s gruff voice breaks the silence, and I laugh, a tear sliding down my cheeks at this, but I hide my face in the spot between his neck and shoulder, not wanting him to see my internal turmoil.

And then the wetness between my thighs registers, and I finally understand why this time felt more intimate than before… more intense.

He didn’t use a condom.

While this realization terrifies me at the implication of what it might bring, I let him pick me up as he pulls away the dirty sheets and drags me to the shower, where he washes us.

Besides, I already married a monster and surrendered to him.

Tomorrow.

I’ll focus on all this stuff that should matter tomorrow, and tonight I will just live in the moment where the familiar nightmares don’t plague my mind.

Because a monster cannot hurt me while I’m in the embrace of another monster.

Lucian

The villain has conquered the princess.

But can he slay the dragon casting fire everywhere?

My wife murmurs something in her sleep, burrowing her face in my chest as she hooks her slender leg over my waist. Her nails dig into my skin as she probably once again faces her nightmare.

I woke up from her restless whimpers an hour ago, and she hasn’t been able to calm down since.

Wrapping my arm tighter around her and pressing her to me even harder, I slide my fingers over her features wondering how this perfect creature stayed untouched until I came along.

But then I growl, because mine.

No one will ever fucking touch my woman because from the tips of her lilac hair to her paint-smeared toes, she belongs to me, and finally I have paperwork and her submission to prove it.

As the breeze slips inside from the open balcony door and thunder shakes the sky, lightning flashing in the darkness lit only by the moonlight, my mind goes back to the upcoming wedding celebration I’ve decided to hold here in a few days, which she’s yet to replace out about.

Putting my woman in danger and gathering all these people in my mansion hardly makes me happy or eases the beast roaring inside me to hide Esmeralda in my cave far away so that nothing will touch her.

However, the nightmare cannot end unless the victim faces it head-on—the monster will always win—and for that to happen, they need to meet.

Besides, these people won’t miss it for the world. Their agendas for accepting the invitation, or rather, using all means necessary to get one, are vastly different though.

One of them will come to study my wife and think of how he can use her to his advantage in his twisted plan, while watching me carefully.

After all, I’m the enemy who stands in his way, and Esmeralda is my Achilles’s heel.

The other fucker will come to gaze at his prey who he hopes to see in deep sorrow so he can justify killing her ruthlessly later, but not before enjoying her suffering.

None of them though will get what they covet, and in this, their patience and control will be tested.

The stronger one wins, always.

The stupid one loses, always.

But what’s strong and what’s stupid lies entirely in the eye of the beholder.