DAMIAN

My footsteps echo off the black granite floor polished to a high shine. The cream-colored Venetian plaster walls provide a subtle contrast, while the dark wood trim adds depth and warmth - a far cry from the state of my heart which has now gotten colder than the ice in Antarctica.

I continue through the foyer, my footsteps quiet and in sync with the beat of my heart, descending to the basement where the latest captive is being held.

I feel like I'm at a crossroads. Waiting. The outcome of the next few hours will determine my final decisions; if I return to my duties or if I continue to hunt.

One thing is for sure; I will never rest until I feel peace within me. Else, I don't mind reducing this world to ashes for her. I would go on and on until my feet give out beneath me and my bones find their way out of my skin in exhaustion.

I stop right outside the door where sounds of muffled screams meet my ears. I turn my head this way and that to get rid of the kinks in my shoulders before I place my hands on the heavy doors and shove hard.

I step into the room and immediately, my eyes lock onto the captive woman. Her brunette hair is dishevelled, framing her heart-shaped face.

Her slender nose and mouth shaped like a bow tremble with rage. An angry-looking, purple bruise mars the left side of her cheek. Her clothes are ruffled with the first few buttons missing, exposing a hint of delicate blue lace.

She must have given my men a tough time. Such a vicious lady. The type I love to see come apart under my torture.

Green eyes blaze with defiance as her gaze meets mine. My chest burns hot with impatience to douse the fire in there and crush her spirit.

The same way Stellëza was ruined. Images of how someone with so much vibrance coiled into her shell until she became a shadow chooses now haunt my soul.

I push the image to the back of my mind.

“Remove the tape,” I order to the man standing to her right. He complies, ripping off the duct tape ignoring her pained groan.

The moment she spits out the gag, her eyes flash with a murderous rage. She struggles against the cuffs keeping her hands bound behind her.

She gives up with an exasperated scream. “Let me go, you demented psycho!” She yells followed by a slew of sailor curses and a series of threats tumbling out which end with, “Wait until Theodore gets a hold of you! My family will destroy you!”

The corner of my lips curl upwards in a smug smirk. I'm amused by how someone so small holds such a volcanic explosion within.

“The game hasn't even begun. Your husband would feel your pain in hell by the time we're done playing.”

Hands deep in my pocket, I stroll toward her with the deliberate pace of a predator. Her anger rolls off her in massive waves but I remain calm.

“Do you know Nicolo?” My voice is even as I ask.

She aims her gaze anywhere else that isn't my face and I know right then that she's avoiding the question.

“I do not owe you anything until you release me.”

Daring little thing, I muse as I grasp her chin with my fingers wrapping firmly around it. She struggles against my grip, but her efforts are feeble against it. I drag her face towards mine even though that doesn't deter her from looking somewhere else.

“Where is Kyle then?” I repeat, my voice dropping to a chilling quiet.

Pain slashes across her features as her eyes meet mine. They're burning with rigid stubbornness and more anger. “You're wasting your time.”

“Perhaps,” I chuckle darkly. “But I have plenty to spare.”

She glares so hard that I can see through her eyes how badly she wants to mark my face with daggers.

“You're just a coward hiding behind your goons. Shameless, cowardly piece of trash!” She fires. Her entire body vibrates from the weight of anger coursing through her.

I close my eyes when her spittle lands on my cheek. I give her a smile to show how unfazed I am. “And you're just a pawn, trying to protect a monster.”

Her eyes flash and she pushes on her feet in a pathetic attempt at freeing herself from the chair. Once again, she is unsuccessful.

“Kyle is not a monster, you are! He's ten times the human than you will ever be.” She retorts.

That statement sparks a round of laughter between my men and I. My shoulders shake in amusement.

Like I promised, I have all day.

“Darlin’, I never said I was human, did I?” Her expression cracks for a brief moment when she tries to decipher my words.

She recovers quickly with fresh venom in her words. “Take me back from where you picked me right this instant!”

I take a step closer and lower my head so that our faces are within inches of each other.

“Last chance,” I warn, “Where is your husband, Kyle?”

She gives a lopsided grin. Suddenly, she spits into my eyes. Momentarily, I am blinded by her actions.

It all happens so fast. Just as I open my eyes, a fierce cry leaves her lips. She rears her head back and slams it forward with her forehead crashing into mine. The impact jars my skull.

Bone crunches and pain explodes around my head. Her headbutt is vicious. I can tell it was aimed at breaking my nose.

“Fuck!” I grind out, shaking my head to clear my vision and ease the pain. My fingers fly to my nose to check for crimson flowing.

Nothing.

I glare at her, inches away from wrapping my fingers around her thin neck and wringing it till it snaps.

One of my men lands a punch on her cheek before I give out orders. She yelps out in pain and before I know it, I put a bullet in his head.

He drops dead.

She looks up at me with a sprinkling of blood on the side of her face. I catch the movement of her tongue as it pokes the inside of her mouth, pressing against the injury.

Then, like the roles have been reversed she curls her lips up in a devilish grin while my initial smile is turned upside down.

But that's a facade. The sight of fear is unmistakable as she looks at me.

My vision blurs again yet I go close to her and force a hold on her chin, refusing to be gentle and give her the delusion that I am relinquishing control.

This is my zone.

I see the bruise beginning to form on her forehead even as she smirks at me.

“You're… quite… fierce.” I manage in a strained voice.

She struggles with a firm kick on my shin. My hold tightens so hard that she winces. “Don't bother,” I advise. “You're never getting out of here.”

Her chest heaves. Her breasts rise and fall. That stubborn resoluteness remains on that face. “And you can never break me, I promise you! I will never tell you anything!”

“In that case,” I pull away from her as I straighten my spine. “Let's see what my men have to say about that. I'll know if you'll remain tight-lipped after my men take their turns easing themselves.”

Panic rises in those defiant green eyes but it's too late. She had her chance and she blew it.

“Ti çmend i shqerrë!” She curses in Albanian.

I walk out of the room with a wicked smile on my bruised face. Call me a crazy motherfucker all you want, I'll get back my pound of flesh.

LILIANA

The moment the sadist exits, his goons fall in line, gagging and confining me. I'm left alone with the haunting presence of the corpse. My mind begins to conjure gruesome images which amplifies my fear.

Being locked in with a corpse isn't something I have gone through like I do a walk in the park.

Seconds bleed into minutes and hours until I hear the door creak open once more. The men walk in and my restraints are removed.

Simultaneously, my heart leaps into my throat when their boss's threats come back to haunt me.

He would be in for a surprise if he thought I'd let these men have sex with me without one of them losing an organ at least.

Again, my eyes flit over to where the dead man lies with a hole in his head and blood that forms a halo around his head. A shiver racks through my spine and I tear my gaze away.

How did I end up in the lair of such a dangerous man? If he could kill one of his own without remorse, there is no telling what he could do to me.

One of the men grunts, his hands tightening around my arm to pull - yank me to my feet. They are a bit wobbly as I rise but I force myself to straighten.

Steel, baby, steel, I chant loudly in my head over again.

Flanked by two burly men and their iron grip on my arms, I'm escorted out of the room as my mind races with futile escape plans.

Think, Lily. Think!

The endless corridor stretches before us, likely leading to the depths of their lair. We reach our destination and before I can react, I'm bound to another unforgiving chair. The ropes dig into my skin, promising to leave a dark-purple reminder of my captivity.

I wince in pain but not a sound slips out of my mouth. It would be better to slit my own throat than let these fools know their actions are getting to me.

The room's darkness is almost suffocating, except for a small window high above - a subtle reminder that night has fallen.

I sit frozen, waiting for the silence to confirm I'm alone. But before I can process grim reality, a torrent of freezing water assaults me.

“The fuck!” The muffled words slip out before I think to clench my teeth together. The water sinks its iciness into my bones like an iron thong hammered into the earth.

“Shut up!” One of them barks at me before they all exit one after the other.

The silence is now filled with sounds of my chattering despite all my efforts to not make any. Tears drip down my face hidden by the wetness as I think about how my life has taken a brutal twist.

One moment, I was mourning my husband; the next, I was kidnapped and brought to the lair of a madman with forgiveness issues.

If only I had just let Eric come with as he pleaded. Not only have I brought trouble upon, I have succeeded in dragging into the consequences of my recklessness.

You've gone and done it, Liliana. Brilliant, I think to myself in my broken despair.

I close my eyes and let the tears flow. After a while, I feel a sense of relief wash over me but I know it's short-lived. I need to stay strong to fight back against these monsters.

The hours drag on and exhaustion starts to creep in. There is deafening silence punctuated by the sound of water dripping to the cemented floor from my wet clothes.

I fight against the exhaustion as it comes in full swing to pull my eyelids close and lure me to unconsciousness. Instead, I stay determined to be awake and prepared for whatever comes next.

Sleep would be a vulnerability I can't afford.

At long last when the first light of dawn creeps into the dungeon casting eerie shadows on the walls, I straighten my aching spine, bracing myself for the inevitable return of my tormentors.

Thankfully, the men hadn't stepped in here at night to do the unthinkable. I shudder lightly.

The door creaks open and Damian walks in with a smirk twisting his face. His mismatched blue and brown orbs pierce into my soul as he takes a long look at me.

If he wasn't such a bastard at the moment, I would look his way more than twice.

“Good morning.” He coos in that stupid baritone voice. “Did you have a refreshing night?”

I meet his gaze as my voice laces with sarcasm. “Oh, it was fabulous. The five-star accommodation and excellent customer service made my stay truly unforgettable.”

He chuckles, the gravelly sound unsettling as it travels throughout my body to pool low in the pit of my stomach.

What the hell?

He meanders so close to me, the upper part of his face partially hidden by the growing shadows. I see the bruise I'd given him earlier and my smile widens. I gave him something to nurse after all.

His eyes glint in the darkness.

“I’m glad you appreciate our hospitality. Now, shall we continue our conversation?”

Defiance burns through me and I snort, “Conversation? Do you mean the part where you try to break me and I refused to crack? Your men haven't told you how failed you are for a boss, have they?”

His jaw ticks in anger even though his face says something different. “I see you didn't lose that smart mouth.”

“Lose it? Oh no, it's a treasure for bastards of your kind.” I retort in anger.

“This bastard has a lot of better use he would like to put that mouth to.” A corner of his lips lifts to punctuate the meaning of his words.

A shiver travels throughout my entire body and I wonder why it's not from the wet clothes clinging onto my skin.

His smile widens and I begin to wonder just how cuckoo in the head he is. “You're quite the spitfire, Liliana. I admire that.”

Before I can stop it, my face freezes at the mention of my name. “Don't bother trying to charm me. Your fake smiles and empty words won't get you anywhere.” I snap, my tone venomous.

He studies me for a split second before giving an unperturbed roll of his broad shoulders. “We'll see about that.”

He gestures to his henchmen who move to restrain me as if I wasn't already tied to a stifling immobility. I struggle against their grip, but they're too strong.

“Let's get started properly, shall we?” He says, his voice dripping with malice. Gone was the friendly steward and in his place was the unfeeling monster who was holding me captive.

The one I'm used to.

My heart races. I steel myself for the ordeal ahead. I know I won't go down without a fight.

Damian's anger is palpable and his eyes come to burn with intensity. He turns to me.

“You think you're doing yourself any good by keeping the secret of your husband's whereabouts away from me? Thinking you can outsmart me?” His voice is low and menacing.

I meet his glare, refusing to back down. “You're desperate to pin something on me, but you have nothing. I already told you I have nothing to say but you're too thickheaded to listen.”

His smile is calculated and too cold. Another shiver has my teeth chattering for a second. “You're going to regret underestimating me, Liliana.”

I hate the way each syllable rolls off his tongue when he calls my name like that. I just want to bash his head in with a piece of wood again and again until I'm drenched in his blood.

He paces around the room like a caged tiger bidding its time, his agitation fueling. “You know, I've broken tougher people than you. You're just a –”

“Window dressing?” I suggest in a sweet tone. “A mere prop in your twisted game? Perhaps, the doorknob as it is easily replaceable?”

He's in front of my face in seconds. His eyes flash with anger that oddly gives me satisfaction. “Shut up!”

I shrug, unfazed. “Or what? You'll torture me? Kill me?” I lean forward in my seat even though the restraints only allow me so little room. “I'm already living in hell, dumbo. You can't do worse than I have been through.”

I make sure to lean as close as I'm allowed to his face, our breaths mingling together. I don't mind that mine is filthy at the moment. That's his cross to bear.

His nostrils flare in anger, his eyes coming to life in the shadows. For a moment, I think he'll lose control and strike me. But he reins himself in, his expression smoothing into a calculated calm.

“Let's take a break,” he says, surprising me. “I'll let you think about your cooperation.”

He exits the room, leaving me shaken. Determination fuelling me as well. As I sit there in the dim light of dawn, I realize that he's losing control. If I push a little more, he'll crack.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps. Lighter, more hesitant than his. The door opens and a new player enters.

DAMIAN

The walk to my bedroom takes longer than usual and the rising need to get away from that she-devil comes faster than my erections at the sight of a willing woman chained to my bed. This one threatens to consume me.

How can such a small woman make me lose my cool, twice in barely twenty-four hours? I muse to myself while the image of her face pops up.

If I don't hear from her husband, I'd have to order her death. No one is to be spared if I don't catch the real culprits. Stellëza would be looking down at me with an upturned nose and her pouty lips curled downward in disapproval but what do I care?

They touched what was mine first.

I produce my phone to bark orders at my men who are still on the lookout for the rest of those killers. Their response is in the negative and it only manages to make me see more red than I have ever seen.

I nearly punch a hole into my bedroom door as soon as I approach but the urge simmers down when a familiar sultry voice calls my name. Walking behind her is a very red-faced older woman, Alice.

“There you are!” Melanie calls out with her skimpy dress riding up her thighs as she raises her hands towards me.

My face shows no expression as I let her arms wrap around my middle and let her pepper kisses on my collarbone down to the front of my chest.

She looks up at me with her lashes fluttering in a childlike manner. “Little Miss Grumpy here told me you weren't home. I insisted on seeing you, so here I am. Today's Thursday, and I know you don't go out except it is really important.”

“Damian, you know how you like your privacies on Thursdays?” Alice begins cautiously with her eyebrows raised. I nod for her to continue. “I tried to stop her but she was too thickheaded to listen to my words.”

She is right. On Wednesday nights, I find myself dreading waking up to see a Thursday morning. When it does happen, all I do is shut everyone up and out of my life.

Where in the world should I be on the very day that my girlfriend was murdered in cold blood?

I see Alice's chest rising and falling in quick succession. She is in her late fifties and Melanie couldn't care less for her age. It's a good thing she has a humiliation kink and a weakness for being tied up in bed.

Otherwise, I'd have asked that she get punished and banned from ever stepping foot on these grounds.

I catch the scowl on Melanie's face directed at Alice, right before she turns to me with her face schooled to cuteness. “It's been weeks, baby. I've waited endlessly for your calls and didn't hear from you. You're only treating me unfairly because you know how crazed I am over you, how deeply crave your touch, how badly I… adore you.”

There's a scoff. I raise my eyes to meet Alice's departing figure as she walks down the hallway. Hiding my smile, my gaze rivets back to a pouting Melanie.

I disentangle her arms around me with one hand as I lean closer to her. “I've told you before Mel, and I'll say it again. Don't come here if I didn't invite you.”

She rolls her eyes as she resigns to my words. “You don't play fair. You call me every time you need me, I can't do the same. How’s that logic working for me? I'll tell you, it's not doing jack to ache this burning I feel for you.” She presses her body flush against mine.

A corner of my mouth tugs upwards. I'm familiar with her mind games. “This isn't anything like a relationship, Melanie. This is merely an arrangement but in this case, I'm the one who's calling the shots, not you. I'm the one who reaches out when I need to be satisfied, not you. Your body is mine to use as I choose. So if you can't abide by my terms, you can leave.”

“Fine!” She stomps her foot in childish anger. “I'm going back home.”

Not on my watch.

She barely moves an inch when I pull her back against me roughly. Her blue eyes spark with lust and out of her lips is the gasp of a silent ‘o’.

“You're going nowhere,” I growl against the shell of her ears. “Yet.”

She smells of citrus and even though I hate how it tickles my nose when she's in such proximity, it is the least of my worries.

Not when I need a vessel to empty all of my frustrations. She knows what she's here for.

The hand around her arm squeezes tighter and I lean a little towards her. “Did you say something?”

“I'm sorry…” she purses her lips before blowing an exhale, “Daddy.”

Those words ignite a fresh surge of lust pumping into my veins. Instead of heading to my room, I trap her body with mine against the wall opposite us, quickly nudging her thighs apart with my feet. Her back to my front.

No words are exchanged between us except for harsh breaths that indicate the lust carrying in our veins.

I yank her little dress up to her waist, reaching for the flimsy piece she always wears as an excuse for underwear only to find it bare and dripping with her essence. I rub two fingers against her slit to her engorged nub which I give a tap.

She exhales sharply and lolls her head back. “Yes, Daddy!” Her moans ring out loud and clear across the hallway.

“Someone's a little hungry.” I croon into her hair as I thrust three of my fingers suddenly into her.

Her body trembles and her pussy welcomes the intrusion of my hands like a starving kid presented with freshly baked buns. I raise my fingers to her face and she grabs them to slurp up her juices coating them, with low moans ringing from within her chest.

“Love how you taste?”

She pushes back against me, impatient. To that, I send another sharp slap to her pussy, so hard that her body bows and she gasps. “Yes!”

It's louder than the first.

I smirk. In seconds, my slacks are hanging low as I line my dick up to her entrance. “Say, Mel, to whom do you owe your life?”

She shudders at my question and without hesitation says, “You. Fuck, it's you!”

“Names, Mel.” I run my dick along her clit down to her pussy in slow strokes. “Names.”

I stop at her entrance, poised and ready to strike.

Her torso is bent halfway on the wall with her hips shooting out towards me. Her manicured fingers dig into the wall as she braces herself for the impact.

“Damian Kastorov!”

I lose common reasoning as I take her right there in the hallway. I plow into her rough and hard like an overcharged bull.

My movements are choppy and fast. I throw my head back in ecstasy as her pussy wraps around me like a fitted glove.

“You. Are. Mine. To. Fuck.” I grind out between clenched teeth. My fingers reach for her blonde hair tied into a ponytail.

I wrap it around my hand and pull it so that her neck is bared to me. I lean down and bite down on that spot. Alternating between sucking, licking, and biting down on that spot, I drive faster into her as I feel the impending storm of my climax in the telltale tightening of my balls.

“Yes, oh yes! Fuck!” Her voice is hoarse from her screams.

Two hands encircle her waist as I lift her, thrusting savagely from below. Every grunt I make punctuates the thrust of my hips digging into her wet snatch.

“Eta pizda moya,” I call out harshly, jaw locking when the tingle spreads to my head. “Touch yourself,” I order.

“This cunt will forever…” She says but the rest of her words are drowned out by the climax that sends blood rushing to my ears.

My strokes become long and hard, riding through my orgasm and calling out hers.

Every muscle in her body tenses for a millisecond before her hips buck wildly and she spasms against me. A slew of curses and pledges of her life to me leaves her lips.

“This pussy is yours, daddy! Brand me with your cum.” She moans loudly while her fingers are feverishly working to end her orgasm.

I pump into her roughly for a few minutes before I feel myself bottom out into her spasming pussy. Afterward, I pull out and lower her to her feet.

Her feet wobble and she slides to the ground with a shit-eating grin on her face from being fucked that way. Fast and hard.

After putting her dress in order, she presses against me once more. “That was aggressive. I like it.” She tries to catch me unguarded with a kiss but I move my face so fast that it lands on my jaw.

“Sleek little bitch.” I tell her with an amused expression.

She sucks hard on it. Letting the skin go with a pop, she eyes her hard work like a masterpiece sitting in a museum. Her blue eyes are cloudy as she gazes back at me.

“You fucked me sore, daddy. That's why no one is more fitting for you than I.” She purrs. Her lashes sweep open lazily. “I think we should do this sometime soon.”

She grabs her purse off the carpeted floor and wobbles her way out of my sight. Evident is the puddle of our pleasure on the carpet and I make a mental note to have it discarded later.

I move to my bedroom door once again but stop midway when Melanie's words come back to mind. My fingers hover over the doorknob with one question hanging over my head.

How do I explain that the wench's defiance was my fuel?