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Black eyes stared down at me, the fine lines around them tense with concern. “It was just a bad dream, kitten. You’re safe.”
“Stefano?”
He reached for me slowly, as though he didn’t want to spook me. I snatched at his hand like a lifeline, squeezing hard to test if he was real.
His free hand caressed my cheek, and the familiar feel of his callouses brushing my skin sent a shudder of relief through my system.
Stefano. Not Miguel.
“That’s right, kitten. I’m here, and you’re safe,” he swore in a low, even cadence. “No one is going to hurt you.”
My grip on his hand tightened to a vise, clinging to the safety he promised.
“Let’s get you back in bed,” he urged, wrapping his strong arms around me.
I didn’t realize I’d been laying on the floor until he lifted me up. I turned my face into his chest, beyond disoriented. He was solid and warm. I took a deep breath, and his scent hit my senses like a calming drug.
He laid me down on the bed, and I reached out for him, desperate to maintain contact. Stefano’s presence grounded me in reality, preventing me from being clawed back into the horrors of my past.
He settled in bed beside me, and I tucked myself as close to him as possible. He pulled the covers over us both and shifted away from me slightly, moving to turn off the light.
“Don’t.” Some of my ragged desperation surged again at the prospect of darkness, roughening my plea.
He turned back to me, his brows drawn in puzzlement.
“I don’t like the dark,” I whispered, betraying one of my most vulnerable secrets.
But I didn’t experience any physical signs of distress at sharing the information with him. Stefano had proven that he wouldn’t use fear to coerce me, and I believed that he wouldn’t weaponize this secret to torment me.
He brushed my hair back from my sweat-dampened cheek, and I leaned into his touch.
“We’ll leave all the lights on, kitten.” He pulled me into a firm embrace, returning me to the protective cage of his arms. I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his drugging scent.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll be right here if you have another bad dream,” he murmured, dropping a tender kiss on the top of my head. “You’re safe with me, Carmen.”
I relaxed in his arms, allowing myself to believe him.
Chapter 14
Stefano
One week with Carmen Ronaldo as my captive, and I was clinging to my control by a thread. While I had no issue with the reality that I’d never been entirely sane, this particular form of madness was enough to make any man homicidal.
After over a decade of obsession, I finally had Carmen caged for my enjoyment, but I had yet to take my pleasure in her body.
Our physical chemistry was undeniable, and I’d proven to both of us on her first day in captivity that I was fully capable of claiming her. I could use her however I wished, and she would suffer through every ecstatic second of our sensual games.
But I hadn’t accounted for her feelings. My fantasies about owning her had always been decidedly sexual, and the reality of having her in my home for non-sexual purposes was both fascinating and frustrating.
If she hated me, I would never truly possess her in the way I wanted. And breaking her of that hatred through force or fear would ruin her. I wanted Carmen as she was now, not a sad, soulless sex toy.
That had necessitated a much slower seduction than I would have liked. Tonight, I intended to push for more. She would bend to my will, and we would both attain merciful release.
“Come here, kitten.” I issued the command in the softer tone that had proven to be more effective over the last several days. Stern orders caused her to bristle, but she seemed to forget that she wanted to defy me when I employed a little more finesse.
Her dark lashes narrowed a fraction, her gray eyes flashing once before the flare of suspicion melted away.
“Why?” she offered a token challenge, but she was already pushing her chair back from the dining table and getting to her feet.
I allowed her to walk on her own, indulging in the sight of her lithe, graceful body as she sauntered toward me.
Dr. Holloway had removed her stitches two days ago, and while her soles were still tender, she was healing enough that she could put weight on her feet more often. I’d enjoyed having the excuse to carry her around, but my relief at her release from pain eclipsed that particular pleasure.
“Because I want to hold you,” I told her in a smooth, hypnotic cadence. “Do you have any objections?” I provoked her with a smirk, a hint of teasing to make her feel like she was putting up a show of resistance. She was more amenable when I allowed her the pretense of defiance. It seemed to soothe her pride, and I relished the push and pull.
