Chapter 39

**TW: Viewer discretion is advised. The following update may set off some readers. But if you have post traumatic triggers. You probably shouldn't be reading mafia romances, because you know... you never know what will happen.


"Orian... what are we doing back here?"

Unease bottles my breath as it struggles to make its release. We travel through the underground dungeon, reminiscent of the renaissance era with time-worn aged stone walls and a complex of corroded-doored cells. The single access hatch consisting of an iron grille.

Fear blows an icy breath down my spine, shudders creeping from shoulder blade to shoulder blade.

"This property belonged to a wealthy slave owner for generations, his descendants profited from the lives they bought. This oubliette was where he kept his... problematic slaves. Either for corporal punishment or retribution for running away." His hand slipped into his pocket to reel out a ring of keys. "I made good use of this remnant, extracting the information I needed from informants, low-level pawns working for big names in the crime syndicates. Just business."

He stops at a cell to slot the key inside. "Today is for pleasure."

Orian slides the gate open but remains where he stands.

Cautiously, I edge to him at a glacial pace. I peek inside to see the shadowed frame of a man draped in darkness. I step inside the cell to get a closer look, still lingering in the entranceway warily.

Without looking back, I ask, "What is this..." so imperceptible it's like I said it under water.

An assortment of tools steals my gaze, resembling the equipment of a torture chamber. My eyes skim over the cruel selection of instruments, branding iron, torture rack and others that are harrowing to merely look at. I flinch at the sudden and sharp rattle, the clanging of chains as the hunkered down man rises, casting a defiant shadow on the wall.

A nameless dread engulfs me, seizing a breath from lungs.

He thaws from the gloom, half of his face devoured by the umbra, restrained by the shackles that are bound to his wrists. His face split open by a skeletal smile.

"Markov..."

The air thins, evaporating into nothingness. My chest heaves as I stumble a step back, dazed.

"Orian...what is he doing here...what're you going to do with him?"

He takes a look at the array of torture tools. "Whatever you want."

My heart leaps into my throat. "No..." I whip around but Orian posts himself in the gateway. "Move."

"Do what you want to do."

"Not like this," I whispered harshly. "I can't... I won't."

Markov echoes out a sickening cackle; a taunting and malicious sound. I try to shove past him but he doesn't budge, not even an inch until he yields, stepping aside and I burst out. He closes the gate behind him, locking the door.

***

I explode through the bedroom doors, clutching my head, fingers snared by russet coils.

"I can't believe you did that!" I shriek, the cords in my neck tight. "I mean what the fuck?"

"I thought you would like that," he says coolly.

I spin around to gawk back at him, his hands placed in his pockets with mind blowing nonchalance.

"What sane person—oh right—I'm talking to the man who smiles when he butchers people, who's the cause of massacres, who kills as easily as taking his next breath and shoved a gun in my face."

He severs eye contact and looks away, his jaw ticking.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Each word wrought with wryness. "Am I upsetting you?"

He looks up. The inky strands sweep to his temple. "I would do anything for you."

"Most men think of candle lit dinners, a romantic stroll on a beach, but you think of kidnapping. I can't speak for the entire female population but I'm pretty sure mass murder isn't an attractive trait."

"What do you want from me?" he roars. I stagger back. "I'm trying to make it right and you're making it fucking impossible!"

My eyes implode. "Abstaining from killing is impossible for you?"

He turns his back on me for a split second before jerking around "I'm trying to make it fucking right," he repeats vehemently. Molten anger rolling through him. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

He drops down to one knee, then down on both as if surrendering to a deity. "What do you want? Say it and it's yours. *I am yours*."

Shock paralyzes me, my feet bolted to the ground, leaving my mouth agape.

"What do you want?" His voice thunderous, booming with volatile emotions.

"Something impossible." The words flee from my lips before I can stop them.

"You have three seconds."

My pulse quickens. " Until what?"

"Until I change your measure of what's impossible."

"Orian..."

He rises like a gathering thunderstorm, a force of nature swelling with power and intensity. The air is charged with anticipation, and his presence looms, dark and formidable. Orian flashes to me, electricity crackling between us, the heat intensifying even without touching, unable to ignore the magnetic pull toward his body. His lust-fogged eyes rove over me hungrily, shaking his head with chargrin.

"Tell me to stop." His breathing ruggard. "Or else I won't be able to stop."

Incapable of denying him by lying to myself. I only manage to shake my head stiffly, attempting a retreat but he grabs me by the hips, stealing a gasp from me and sealing the gap between us. His sumptuously soft lips meets with mine, parting them with his, unfurling his tongue in my mouth. My arms raise on their own whim, fingers threading through his velvety strands, my tongue tangling with his whilst using fast fingers to unbutton his shirt.

Once its off, he chucks it on the ground and lifts me up. My legs wrap around his waist, his hand finds the zip of my dress, yanking it down so aggressively it breaks. He drops me on the bed, my hands roam over chiselled muscles as he expertly removes the dress from my braless form. Unquenchable desire vibrating through me, I grasp at the covers beneath me, a desperate attempt to anchor myself, toppled by a wave of ecstasy. Our tongues locked in a tango as he unbuckles his trousers, stripping everything off. Disconcert submerged by long-suffering want.

A large hand entwines with mine, holding me steady. He kisses his way back up my chest, settling the length of his body against mine, claiming each moan that escapes me. A deep full-throated growl reverberates through me.

Desire like pure fire curling within, trailing burning kisses down my neck and chest, tongue teasing my hard nipples. Orian climbs into position, the sensation of our bodies melding together, sending a pleasurable rush through me, my nails dig into his back, bracing against wave after wave of pulsating euphoria. His finger hooks into my lace underwear and rips my panty off greedily—alarm tears through my bare chest, yearning receding like a tide, clarity seeping in.

*Too fast.*

"Orian." I straighten up carefully to get out from beneath him.

With swift brutalness, his hand clamps down on my breast to shove me right back down.

"Orian."

He captures my lips with his lips but I jerk my face away. He responds with a grunt, angered and feral. I struggle against him, thrashing under him futilely, overwhelmed and overpowered by his sheer bulk. Horror claws into my gut.

"Orian—stop—*please.*"

He takes both of my hands and cages them above my head with just one of his. He manoeuvres and pries my legs apart and before I can comprehend what's happening. He thrusts himself into me, the enormity slowing the penetration, too big I even think it's stuck. My head tips back with a scream, tears searing behind my eyes.

"Orian..*.STOP*."

"And yet you're soaked."

All I can feel is him; ever-throbbing, all-consuming pain, the bed creaking hard beneath us. My ears fill with his groans, cursing and harsh panting as he revs up his speed, intensifying his ferocity, roughly pounding into me mercilessly, getting every inch of him inside of me. It quickly becomes too much, the pressure amounting to a breaking point.

"Please."

The crumbled cover drenched with juices of arousal. I lost total control of my own body, my insides brimming with him. I bellow out a pathetic plea for him to stop, deaf to my cries, he withdraws only to slam back into me as if in punishment, eliciting another scream from me, utterly eviserating me from the inside out.

"I'm not done with you," he whispers strenuously and ruthlessly. "I'm only getting started."