Chapter 128
Isabella
I shook my head, not knowing what to say or where to even begin. The words caught in my throat, thick with guilt, fear, and something far more dangerous—want.
Before I could gather a single coherent thought, he pushed me down—hard.
My knees hit the cold earth, the suddenness of it shocking a small gasp out of me. I looked up at him, wide-eyed, my lips parting to protest… but no sound came.
“I will get the truth out of you tonight,” he said, his voice low, deadly calm. “One way or another.”
His fingers moved to his belt.
The metallic clink of the buckle undid something inside me—fear first, then a sharp sting of excitement. My breath hitched. My eyes dropped, unblinking, as he unfastened it, each motion deliberate. Controlled. My throat dried.
I didn’t move. I just watched. Frozen. Breathless. Waiting.
Fear. Hope. Desire. Pain. Pleasure. They braided themselves together in me, impossible to tell apart. My heart pounded like it had never known calm.
“You will no longer keep me in the dark,” he continued, stepping forward. His voice wrapped around me like rough silk soaked in frustration—and hunger. “I won’t ask again.”
His belt hung loose in his hand now, and I could feel the shift in the air around us—the way it thickened, pressed in, crackled with the electricity of something too long denied.
I tilted my head slightly, searching his face. Goosebumps decorated my skin, forcing me closer. Closer to the heat emanating from every inch of him.
But it wasn’t just lust. It was desperation. Not just for my body—but for answers. For me. For something I couldn’t name but felt all the way down to the soles of my feet.
I parted my lips to speak. But I wasn’t sure what truth he meant. And worse— Worse than anything— I wasn’t sure which truth I feared him discovering the most.
Because if he uncovered it— If he truly saw what I’d been hiding— Then it would unravel the beautiful, aching delusion I’d been clinging to.
That maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t cared for me back then. And now… now, this was nothing but power. Possession. A game I didn’t know the rules to.
Levi paused. His fingers stopped unhooking his belt. And suddenly, my thoughts turned to useless, trembling mush.
Then he grabbed my hair—rough, commanding—and I gasped as my body surged forward, instinct overriding hesitation. My nose brushed against the metal of his zipper, and I inhaled him like I was starving for it. Like he was the last oxygen.
The rich, tempting scent of his cologne hit me first, then the smell of the night and lust—sweet, delicious lust. A scent that told me his body had been craving me.
He smelled like everything I shouldn’t want and everything I couldn’t stop craving.
I felt his breath catch. The sound of it… the ripple through his body… It made something deep in me clench tight.
“You’ve put a spell on me, Isabella,” he said, his voice dark with something deeper than lust—almost reverence.
The moonlight settled on him like a blessing and a curse, outlining the sharp lines of his face, the hunger etched in his eyes. His skin caught the pale glow, his shadow stretching behind him—tall and commanding, like something otherworldly. Something I would kneel for again and again.
I looked up at him, completely surrendered. Worshipping.
My mouth parted—silent invitation, pure offering.
He understood. Of course he did.
He leaned down slightly, and without warning, he **spat** into my open mouth. The heat of it stunned me—raw, dominant, filthy. I swallowed it without hesitation.
And then he kissed me.
Hard. Fast. Unforgiving.
His mouth crashed into mine, his hands gripping my face with that mix of possession and tenderness that only he could wield.
Then he grabbed my neck, tightening his grip as he deepened the kiss.
His tongue claimed my lips—*my body*—with desperate precision, stealing my breath, forcing my surrender. My heart stopped then, paused in its rhythm, caught off guard by the sheer weight of feeling.
I let him control it. Let him kiss me until the world spun. Until there was no oxygen. Only him.
Tears pricked my eyes—hot, wild, sudden—because it was too much. Because it was never enough. Because my heart felt like it was going to explode from holding all this inside for so long.
And just like that, he pulled away.
The air returned—sharp and cold.
But he didn’t let go. His fingers slid back into my hair, taking another fistful, owning it, owning *me*, and with one firm tug, he brought me closer.
“Open it,” he said quietly, his voice thick now. “Slowly.”
My fingers shook as they rose to the buckle of his pants.
But just before I could touch it—
“No.” His voice dropped to a growl. “Use your teeth.”
I froze for half a second, then nodded, lips parted.
“Yes, Master.”
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