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Finally, she turned toward me. Her face soft…everything about her soft. Her shoulders drooped low, like thousands of pains had finally left her.
In her mind, she was free.
With our gazes on each other, her lips parted to speak. “Master…” she started, but I quickly moved forward.
She gasped, reeling back in surprise, but I had already gotten her into my trap. My fingers grasped her chin, a little more roughly than intended.
My touch kept her in place, her wide eyes on mine as I spoke.
“I have told you before, and I will tell you again, little Angel. Don’t call me Master,” I said roughly, my lips close to hers. “Lyov,” I muttered.
She stared at me, confused, her body trembling slightly.
“You are mine. I think it’s time I introduce myself.”
Maria blinked, waiting.
“The name’s Lyov. Lyov Ivanshov.”
“Lyov,” she whispered oh so softly.
Fucking beautiful.
Pretty Angel, I didn’t save you. I just captured you.
Chapter 6
Maria
There were no words to describe what I was feeling. It was strange, the way my heart was beating faster. I could feel my pulse raging in my neck, right below my ears. It was harder to breathe, sitting in such close proximity with Master.
Lyov. Lyov Ivanshov. That was his name. He wanted me to call him by his name, yet it felt weird to call my Master by his name.
I felt like I wasn’t submitting any longer.
The thought made me sick. If I weren’t submitting, then what was I going to do?
What was he going to do with me?
Wasn’t that why he bought me? To be his slave, serve him, worship him, like the whore everyone wanted—needed.
My eyes stayed on the window, watching the world swirl by as the car sped along the highway. I was finally seeing the outside world after eight long months.
Only eight months but it felt like an eternity.
Eight months since I was taken away from the sweetness of home.
Eight months since I was stripped of my dignity and innocence.
And eight months since I became a slave, no longer holding the value of a human being. I became a toy. One that could be played with and then discarded when I wasn’t needed any longer.
My gaze shifted from the windows toward the man who saved me. His eyes were already on me, watching me so intensely that I shivered.
His grey eyes looked like a soulless pit of blackness in the dark. He looked dangerous. Vicious. Like an animal stalking its prey, holding it still with its gaze.
In this case, I was the prey and he was the predator.
My heart accelerated, and I felt tingles down my body. His heated eyes didn’t waver from mine.
He held me in the palms of his hands, and I was a willing captive, falling deeper into his trap.
I had no chains around my neck, yet it felt like I was chained to him. His words. The way his gaze touched my body wordlessly, it had me captured. My mind, my heart, my body. And my soul.
He didn’t have to touch me to assert his ownership.
I was his. With a single gaze, I became his.
The moment our eyes met in that room, with me kneeling between his legs, I became his.
I should have fought it, but I couldn’t. The feeling brewing inside of me, the way my stomach twisted—butterflies—all those feeling became stronger with each passing second.
It felt like so much more.
When he touched me…there were no empty promises. When he spoke, he meant every word. Every word held a meaning. Whether it was good, bad, light, or dark. It meant something to my already fragile heart.
He touched me to give me something nobody had ever given me…without asking anything in return.
I gave, and he took.
He gave, and I took.
A balance of power.
A slave and a Master. I should have been doing the bowing, kneeling at his feet. Yet he bowed for me.
He didn’t force his dominance. It was given to me, and I accepted it.
I willingly submitted to him because he earned my submission.
But now that I looked at him, his dangerous eyes tracking me, drinking me in, I wondered…was it all a game?
He was a Master. One of them. I was most likely not the first girl he bought.
Did he kill the others? When he got tired of them, did he discard them like a used toy—like they meant nothing?
Did he steal their innocence and then sell them? My previous Master did.
He wasn’t any different, was he?
My brain was in a constant battle with my heart. I wanted to believe he was good.
He saved me. He smiled at me with soft eyes. He held me gently. He kissed me sweetly.
This Master desired me, not as a slave, but as a woman.
You were so good, Angel. So beautiful. So perfect. You amaze me.
Such beautiful words for a slave who didn’t deserve them.
