Not willingly. Not without a fight.
I lifted my chin, my gaze still locked on Nano, holding his stare. His eyes were black. Feral. A predator barely leashed, straining against Morpheus’ restraint. But I didn’t look away. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.
“Are you done?” I said; my voice was rough but steady.
The laughter cut off abruptly. Silence crashed down over the room, heavy and oppressive as Morpheus’ expression darkened. “You think this is a joke?”
“No,” I said, my eyes still on Nano. “I think you’re all a bunch of sadistic assholes who get off on scaring women. But I’m not scared of you.”
It was a lie. I was terrified. But I would be damned if I let them see it.
“Not scared?” Cerberus repeated, his tone incredulous. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking so hard you can barely stay upright.”
“That’s not fear,” I said, and hated how true it was. “That’s adrenaline.”
And arousal. And shame. And the terrible, fractured need to be hurt by the man standing across from me.But I didn’t say that part.
Morpheus studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he looked at Nano, clapped him on the back, and smiled. “She’s all yours, brother.”
Chapter Sixteen
Alex
She’s all yours.
Morpheus’ words hung in the air like a death sentence as I waited for the impact. For Nano to move. For his hand to close around my throat again, for the violence I had been bracing for since the moment I saw his patch at that gas station.
But nothing happened.
Morpheus turned and walked toward the stairs, his boots heavy on the concrete. The other brothers followed. Cerberus first, then the rest of them, their laughter fading as they climbed up and out of the basement. The door at the top of the stairs opened. Closed.
And then it was just us.
Me, kneeling on the cold concrete floor as Nano stood a few feet away and watched me.
Still, I didn’t move as my knees ached where they pressed into the unforgiving surface. My thighs trembled from the effort of holding myself upright. My hands were still curled into fists against the floor, nails biting into my palms hard enough to leave crescents. But I didn’t look away from him.
He’s going to do it now. He’s going to come for you.The thought should have terrified me. Should have sent panic clawing up my throat, should have made me scramble backward, should have triggered every survival instinct I had left. But itdidn’t. Instead, there was something else. Something I couldn’t name. Something I couldn’t explain. A strange, irrational certainty settled over me like a shroud.
He won’t hurt you.The thought was absurd. Insane. He had already hurt me. Choked me until I couldn’t breathe. Until my vision went dark and my body convulsed. Dragged me across the clubhouse floor like I was nothing. Looked at me with eyes that promised violence and pain, and worse. He was a predator. A sadist. A man who got off on suffering, and I was his prey.
So why aren’t you scared?
I didn’t know. God help me, I didn’t know. But the fear that should have been there, the primal, bone-deep terror that came with being alone in a basement with a man who wanted to destroy me, wasn’t. Instead, there was just... waiting. Anticipation as my body was coiled tight. Every muscle tensed, ready for the impact. My breath came shallow and fast. My pulse hammered in my throat where his fingerprints were still bruised into my skin as I braced myself. Preparing for the violence. And underneath the tension, underneath the adrenaline and the arousal and the shame, there was something darker. Something that made my stomach twist with self-loathing.
I want him to do it.The realization hit me like a physical blow. I wanted him to move. To cross the distance between us. To wrap his hand around my throat and squeeze until I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel. I wanted the violence. I needed it because at least then it would be over. At least then the terrible, suspended anticipation would break, and I could stop waiting for the inevitable.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
I couldn’t answer that question. I couldn’t explain why my body responded this way, why my thighs were clenched and my skin burned, or that my breath was coming faster. I couldn’t explain why part of me was willing him to touch me.
Do it. Just do it. Get it over with.
But Nano didn’t move. He just stood there, a few feet away, his eyes locked on mine.
Watching.
The silence stretched between us, thick and oppressive. The only sound was my breathing. Too fast, too shallow, and the distant hum of voices from upstairs. I shifted slightly. My knees screamed in protest against the concrete. The movement drew his gaze down, tracking the way my body adjusted, the way my thighs trembled. But still, he didn’t move.
