“Bullshit, you’re just trying to use her to control me. Give her back.”
“ She’s better where she is.”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone... Cyan how can you sleep at night knowing someone died because of your choices? What I saw yesterday…” My throat tightens. “Chester was a nice old man. One minute he was smiling, giving you advice; the next, dead under a thunderstorm of bullets.” And he wasn’t the only one… flashes hit me.
A man lay on the crosswalk clutching his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. A woman screamed as she dragged her child away. Bodies, one slumped over the hood of a parked car, twitched once before going still. The memory claws at me until I’m trembling, hands shake so hard I curl them into fists, nails digging into my palms to ground me.
“I–I ca-n’t…” I swallow hard trying to control the stutter, and meet Cyan’s eyes, desperation scraping my voice raw. “Give me my Nonna and let me go. Before I become another casualty of your chaos. Like Chester.”
Cyan’s jaw locks, the muscle ticking as he steps closer, slow and deliberate, compressing the space between us. “How dare you?” His voice… lethally soft. “You think I wanted Chester dead?”
My hands come up between us as I push at his chest. “I never asked for this. You think I can sit back and accept this reality? Live in your nightmare?”
Cyan inhales sharply, his shoulders rising and falling. His control seems to hang by a thread. But I don’t care. My only thought is getting out of here and, like a drowning person grasping at a straw, for survival itself. I blurt out the only thing I can think of. “I know you think the law doesn’t apply to you. But to use your words, actions have consequences. I want my freedom. Give me back my grandmother, Cyan. If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to go to the cops.”
The moment the words leave my lips, he goes still, then he moves. Faster than I can react, he’s on me. My spine slams against the marble countertop. His body cages mine, heat and fury pouring off him in waves. His hands grip the counter on either side of me, trapping me completely. “Go ahead, I dare you.” The tip of his nose brushes against my lips, my cheek and my throat.
“In Crescent Bay, my word is law. The people here play by my rules. My reach goes further than you could ever imagine, Dove. I have men in my pocket at every level.” His eyes deadpan, a storm gathering. “Laws don’t apply to the rich and powerful lass. Only to the sheep of society who believe the bullshit stories corrupt politicians spin for them.”
I flinch as I feel his teeth graze my ear, my pulse thumping wildly in response. His tone drops lower, almost intimate in its threat. “And don’t let the luxury of my obsession fool you; I will no longer tolerate your disobedience.” His eyes bore into mine, a raging tempest swallowing me whole. He means it. I try to push him back, but my actions are useless; he doesn’t move an inch. The vibe between us is suffocating and dangerous. A throat clears from the doorway.
“Cyan,” Troy’s voice cuts through the tension, and I suck in a shaky breath. “Jake, Liam, and the requested foot soldiers are downstairs.”
For a moment, Cyan doesn’t move, then, slowly, his head tilts toward Troy. “I’ll be there in a moment.” Troy hesitates like he wants to say more, but Cyan silences him with a raised hand. “Make sure our arrangements are secure, Troy.” A short beat before Troy nods and his footsteps are retreating out of the room.
Cyan turns back to me, control settling over his frame once more. He steps back and gestures with a slow, sweeping motion. “Look around, Aria, this isn’t just a home, it’s a fortress, and I’ll keep you here. It’s your choice how this unfolds... Remember, I can be the man of your dreams or the devil you fear.” He walks out. The truth hits like a wave. I’m trapped. I’m not leaving this house. Not unless I escape or he allows it.
Cyan doesn’t return all day. The only person I see is Johnny, who brings lunch I don’t touch. When I ask for my phone, he shrugs. “Cyan said no.” Of course he did.
The hungover fog eventually fades, but the walls feel closer than before. If I don’t move. If I don’t do something; I’ll crack. I explore the space, finding, just like in Boston, a closet full of new clothes in my size. How long has he been planning to keep me here? The thought unsettles me more than I care to admit.By the time night falls, I shower quickly, refusing to be caught vulnerable again. My favorite coconut-scented body wash is here too.You stalking bastard.
I step out of the closet, tugging on loose cotton shorts and an oversized T-shirt and freeze. He’s here. Standing at the edge of the bed in nothing but boxers, toweling his damp hair. His back is to me, broad, powerful, muscles shifting as he moves. Sprawled across it is the demon horse tattoo from his Boston penthouse. Black and gray ink, alive under the light.
The beast seems to watch me. Its head lowered in a menacing stance; its eyes stare out of his skin as if it can see right through me. Whoever inked it was an artist–a master in black and gray. It’s eerie how much it suits him. Like he is the beast.
He turns. “Ready for bed?”
I step back instinctively, pulse thudding in my throat. He follows with predatory steps. Did he forget this morning?
“Are you insane?”
A side of his lips quirk up, as he stops in front of me, just short of touching. “No, Dove. Just obsessed.”
The word curls over my skin. I force myself to meet his eyes, but I can’t help but take him in. My gaze drops anyway, to his chest, his abs and that perfect V of his hips. Even lower, to the large, unmistakable bulge in his boxers. Heat floods my cheeks. My clit throbs. Mercy no… not now. I wrench my eyes away. “Which side of the bed do you prefer?”
He grins. “Doesn’t matter, Dove. As long as you’re in it.” I step around him and move toward the bed. He stops me with a lazy, wicked accent. “Dove… you never sleep with clothes on.”
I turn slowly. “That’s only when I’m alone.”
A spark ignites in his eyes. “Let me rephrase.” He steps toward me again, hunting. “Please take off your clothes, Aria. Show me what I’d burn the world down to protect.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t want you like that, Cyan,” I whisper, and even I hear the lie in my tone.
“Aye,” he whispers. “You keep saying that. But here? Your control outranks mine.” He crosses his arms, muscles flexing, gaze devouring me. “I just want a glimpse of my obsession before I sleep. Please…Aria. Let me see what’s haunted my dreams.” All I have is my power over him—it’s my only weapon and I’m going to use it.
“I–I’ll give this to you; it means nothing. It’s just… my thanks. For saving me.” My fingers tremble as I lift my T-shirt. Then my shorts. Cool air skates over my skin as I stand there in my bra and panties.
“Those too.” His accent is deeper, and my core clenches. My bra falls first. His breath hitches. Then my boy shorts slide down, inch by torturous inch. Power crackles under my skin. His hunger is palpable as he drinks in every inch of me.
