by Millie Adams
“Annick...”
She pressed her body against his, her face determined. “Take me. Make me yours. You. Whoever he is. The King. Maximus. Someone in between. Or someone much further in the dark. I want to be yours. In a way that no one else ever has been. I want to know you. All of you.”
“I have blood on my hands,” he said.
“If that is so, let me see it. If that is so, let me decide if I’m strong enough.”
“I would spare you.”
“Life has not spared me. I was never innocent. You know this. I was created as something strong enough to handle you. Do not dishonor that. Do not dishonor my pain by trying to protect that which is not there.”
He growled, unable to resist. Unable to stop himself now. It was done. The thing inside of him loosed. And he grabbed her face, gripped her chin and held her steady as he lowered his head for a kiss. As he consumed her. Claimed her as his own. As he made her his.
She gasped, arching against him as they kissed.
“I want you to be my prisoner now,” he said. “How do you like that? How would you like it?” He kissed her neck, all the way down her delicate throat, where he bit her. And she gasped. “Mine. What does that make me? A man who would take you prisoner all over again.”
“But I would choose it.” She put her hands in front of her, holding her wrists together. And he wrenched his tie from his neck and bound her quickly. Efficiently. A kick of desire ran through him as he saw her like that. A willing supplicant bound for his every desire.
“To your knees.”
She obeyed, and he felt... Like there was a knife pressed against his flesh. Pushing deep. Pushing him to see how far he could go. How far he could take this. He began to disrobe. Removing his shirt. Removing the rest of his clothes slowly. Determinedly.
And she knelt there, a pair of white lace panties across her hips, and that black tie a dark slash against her pale wrists.
“Take me into your mouth.”
She straightened up, obeying, using her mouth to pleasure him.
“Come now. You can still use your hands.”
She raised her bound wrists, cupping his length with her hands as she continued to pleasure him with her tongue.
“Yes, this is what I will do with my prisoner. She will see to my pleasure. To my moods. What do you think of that? Will you enjoy that, my Queen? Being available for my every need? My every desire?”
“I’m yours,” she said. “Gladly.” And she continued on. Giving to him all that he asked, all that he demanded. He put his hand on the back of her head and began to thrust his hips forward in time with her movements. She made a small sound, but continued to pleasure him. And when he felt his own desire rise to the point that he could no longer hold back, he knew that he should leave her be.
He should not finish it this way. But she wanted the beast. She wanted all of him. She would have him.
He growled, releasing then, and when it was over, she looked up at him, a light of satisfaction in her eyes. “What else do you desire of me?”
He picked her up, carried her to the bed then, laid her out before him, spreading her like she was a delicious feast. It would not take him long to be ready again. That release had not been sufficient to drown out the ache in his gut that existed only for Annick.
“A glutton for punishment?”
“I told you I was a glutton,” she said. “It is not my fault you do not believe. Not my fault that you insist on treating me as if I am fragile. Perhaps, had I not been kept in a dungeon, there would’ve been a great many lovers before you.”
He growled, pinning her to the bed. “But I would’ve been your last.”
“Would you?”
“Yes,” he said, looking at her with all the ferocity that he felt building in his soul. “And you know what? I’m glad there were no others. Because you are mine.” He put his hand between her legs. “Mine.”
“Then the return is true. Me, I am possessive. And if this possession is good for you, then it is also good for me.”
“Very good.” He parted her slick lips with his fingers and pushed one deep inside of her. Watching as her face contorted with pleasure. As he teased her. Loving the silken feel of her. Loving that he was the only man ever to touch her like this. That he would be the only one ever.
He let that sense of possession run wild inside of him. Oh, this woman. How she called to him. How she tempted him, teased and tormented him. He wished to bury himself in her and never come back from it. He wanted to send them both into oblivion. Where there was nothing else and no one else. Nothing but them. Ever.
But he wished to extract every last drop of pleasure from her body first. He lowered himself down between her legs, tasting her as he continued to stroke the inside of her body. As he went on a search for that pleasure point he knew was deep inside, all the while moving his tongue over that sensitized bundle of nerves.
She twisted, arched beneath him, and he used his free arm to hold her to the bed. Her hands were still bound, but that didn’t stop her from trying to claw at him.
“Behave yourself,” he said, biting her inner thigh, earning himself a sharp cry. He pushed her. Further. Higher. Faster. Until she was sobbing his name. Until the beast within began to roar. Wanting to extract all that he could from her. To make her weak with ecstasy. It would never be enough. This. How could it ever be? He felt the deep, cavernous hole inside of him, and he did not know how he was supposed to fill it. Ever. And so he aided her until she was shaking. Quivering violently against his mouth. Until she shattered around his fingers, until he was so hard he hurt with it, but would not allow himself to sink into her honey depths. Not yet.
He lifted himself, pressing his hardness against that unbearable softness, dragging himself back and forth between her folds. She gasped, reaching toward him with her bound hands, and he took hold of her and forced those hands above her head. “Stay still.” He rocked his hips back and forth over her, that slick friction torturous. A tease of what he truly wanted. To be deep inside of her, surrounded by her, rather than just moving against her desire.
“You do not get to take control here. This pace is not for you to set.”
She shattered again. And again. So many times that he lost count. And he kept going until she was limp in his arms. Then he took her, turning her onto her stomach, propping her hips up, leaving her face buried in the bedspread, her arms thrown out in front of her, still bound. The image that she made there, a woman in the throes of surrender, to him. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. And he could no longer claim to be dead inside, because his heart beat so fast he thought it might drill a hole through the front of his chest.
He felt too much here. And there were no lines between the two men that he saw himself as. Between Maximus and The King. Between the man and the killer. He just was. He just was, and he felt dirty and monstrous and free all at once. Shame, greater than anything he’d ever known, welled up inside of him. And nearly as quickly, a sense of being home assaulted him as he touched her lower back, dragged his palm over her perfect ass and brought his fingers down between her thighs to rub her gently. She whimpered.
“Is it too much for you?”
“Never,” she said, her voice muffled but defiant. “I am not weak. Me, I am not easily brought down.”
“Good.”
He positioned himself at her slick entrance and thrust home. He was blinded by it. And he could no longer play games. He gripped her hips hard as he pounded himself inside of her. Lost himself completely in the sweetness of her body. In the rhythm of her cries of pleasure.
“Maximus,” she whispered. “I love you.”
He nearly stopped then, but it was too late. Those words grabbed hold of him. His throat, his heart, and dragged his release from his body. He cried out as his release overtook him. As his need became the only thing. He spilled
himself deep inside of her, the roaring in his blood like the howling of wolves. And in that moment, there was nothing. Nothing but her.
He was only one man. The one who had lost himself in her. The man who was surrounded by Annick. The man that Annick said she loved. And for a blistering, blinding moment there was nothing else. Nothing but his release and hers blending together. Into one seamless moment. A perfect feeling.
“Annick,” he growled.
And when it was over, he reversed their positions, brought her on top of him and tried to find his breath. Somewhere in all of that, her words had shifted to a white light. And he could not hear them again, could not see them. He could only feel them. He was in a daze. Like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
“I love you,” she said again.
And that time, he moved away from her. His heart turned to stone. For it was something he could not bear and he had no choice. He had to harden himself against it.
“No,” he said.
“Why not?”
“It can’t be like that between us. How can you say that? After what I’ve done to you.” He reached out and grabbed hold of the bonds on her wrists, removing them.
“How can I say that after you have made me come more times than I can even count? What does this mean? This insanity coming from you?”
“There’s more to life than orgasm, Annick, and you should realize that I’ve used you pretty appallingly.”
“In all the ways I have asked,” she said, sounding almost triumphant. “I am not foolish, Maximus. And I am not weak. I like these games. Because in them I’m a prisoner, but I am strong. Do you not see how that is powerful? And in these games, you are a monster, but you are a man. You bite me. You push me. But it only gives me pleasure, not pain. Do you not see the freedom we find here in this?”
“Sex games are not real.”
“Games? It is not games. And it is not different from talking. From being. It is the same. We are what we do here in this bed. It is part of us. And it cannot be separate. We were playing stupid games to pretend that it could be. Me, and all of my talk of desires. About how I would be with many men. I could not. For I am playing a game inside where I pretend that any man could arouse such passions. But I know they could not. It is you. It is you, and the strength that you have brought to me. These changes that you have given me. It is who you are.”
Her words hit him hard, with the force of a bullet. How could she speak with such certainty about him when he felt no such certainty about himself?
“Who am I? Do you know the answer to that?”
“It is simple. You are charming. And good. And bad. Very bad. A killer, you are right. Though for good reasons. I am not ignoring pieces of you to construct love. I know it is there. Just as I know your heart is there, whatever you might think.”
“You really don’t know any of that for a fact. You don’t actually know what you’re talking about.”
“Am I stupid?”
“You know I don’t think you are.”
“Then why act like I’m stupid when it is you who are scared?”
“I’m a killer, Annick, and I don’t regret it. That’s who I am. I was a different man once. I loved someone once. And I won’t do it again.”
“Lies. You love. And you believe in good. You want to say that you don’t. You want to believe that you don’t, because it is scary to you. I scare you. You don’t scare me, Maximus King, and you need to. Because you need to scare me away. But I won’t be. Because I’m not weak. Because I know what it is when men love only power, and that is not you.”
“But I love my anger,” he said. “And I love that I have had the freedom to let it run free.”
“Fine. But you did not do bad things with it. You did good for the world. Yes, these are unsavory things, but there is war in this world, is there not? You cannot make yourself out to be a villain any more than a general might be. You do more than simply follow orders—you are willing to do what must be done. No, I will not let you recast yourself as a villain simply because it keeps you safe. Simply because you fear what it might mean to let yourself feel.”
“I told you, I’m a monster.”
“Yes, and I believe you. But I love this monster. All the pain that you have been through. All the things that have broken you. The things that have left you sharp and jagged and difficult. For I am no different. Broken and sad in some ways, but filled with hope. And I want, more than anything, to live.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with sadness. “You have spent years killing for a woman. Will you not live for one?”
“I can only live a half life. And you deserve more than that.”
“You go back on our bargain? Now that you have had your way? Now you have married me?”
He looked her in the eyes. “I vowed to stay with you. I vowed to protect you, and I won’t break those vows.”
“No. Just bind us both in a life where you refuse to love me but accept my love for yourself.”
“I would never have asked for it,” he said, the words scraping his throat raw. “You’re the one who seems insistent on giving it.”
“More fool me.”
“I can’t give more than this.” How could he? His heart was a stone, and what was beneath...
He was battered. Wounded beyond repair.
She deserved someone more. She deserved something more, but the world had given her a broken and lacking life, and him, a broken and lacking man to go with it.
“No. You won’t,” she said. “Because you are afraid. A coward. So brave. So brave when it comes to doing things. So afraid when it comes to the feeling of them. Don’t think I cannot see. I told you. I do not need a bitch. I need a guard. I need my cane.”
“Careful,” he said, grabbing her wrist then. “Careful before you insult me.”
“You insult us both.”
She got off the bed and began to gather her things. She dressed slowly, the anger and hurt radiating off her in waves. But she would know someday that he was doing her a kindness by not prolonging this. By not lying. For his part, he wouldn’t lie.
“It is an offense, this,” she said. “That we have both survived so much, and both traveled through so much darkness, for you to run away from the light when it is offered.”
“Annick...”
“I thought you could rescue me, Maximus. But you are the one who needs rescuing. And if you will not take my hand, then I cannot help.”
And then Annick slipped from the room, closing the door behind her. And he was left alone.
As it should be.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RAGE SWIRLED THROUGH Annick as she went down the halls, heading back toward her room. She felt mortally wounded. She had known that it would be a fight. That all of this would be so much work. But she had thought... She had thought that she would be able to reach him. Truly, she had. She felt nothing but deep regret over this.
It wasn’t her own pain. Not so much. It was his.
He still saw the bars. And until he decided not to, there was nothing she could do.
She heard a sound. A sound that was almost no sound, and then the brick beside her head split apart. She screamed, dropping low and crawling to her bedchamber, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t know where it had come from. And it was likely that whoever...
Suddenly, there was a hole in her bedroom door.
She lay flat, as flat as she could. Someone was actually trying to assassinate her.
It was happening. And Maximus wasn’t here. He wasn’t... She heard the sound of a struggle on the other side of the door. A roar, thunderous and terrible. Clattering and banging about. And then it was silent.
“Annick,” came the sound of a rough voice.
“Maximus,” she said.
“Open the door. It’s safe.”
She scrambled to
her feet and went to the door. And there he was. Half-dressed, a wound on his face. “An assassin. From Lackland. So now you have your answer as to who is your enemy. It wasn’t just the other regime they wanted removed. They’ll be dealt with. Harshly.”
“Maximus...”
“You forget that I know secrets about them. I didn’t take the job to get rid of the dictator of this country without getting insurance. It will be dealt with. And you will be safe.”
“I...”
“I was distracted, Annick. Because of that, you nearly paid the price. It will not happen again. Never.”
“It was not... It was not anyone’s fault—it was only that...”
“It was my fault,” he said, his voice rough. “My fault. I will remain here. I will be your guard, but that is all it can be. A husband in name, but not...not in truth. All of tonight I should have been watching. I should have been prepared. But I was not. And you...you nearly died for it.”
“I wouldn’t trade anything about tonight.”
“I would trade everything,” he said. “It’s nice for you that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, but I never will.”
“Maximus...this has nothing to do with anything that—”
“It does. It has everything to do with it. This is finished. We will not discuss it any further.”
“You don’t get to decide. You don’t get to decide everything about my life.”
His rejection was so final. So complete. He was still standing in the room but she could feel the separation. Could feel how absolute it was.
His face was stone. And in that moment, he was The King, and none of the man remained.
She did not know how to reach him. Didn’t know how to touch him.
And he was no longer going to allow it.
“Then you put us both in prison.”
“Better in prison alive and free than dead.”
He turned away from her and went back into the corridor. He was barking orders. Demanding to know how this had happened. There was practically a full-scale military operation happening in the front of the palace by the time she took her next breath.