Fawn: A Dark Mafia Shifter Romance (Blackfang Barons Book 1)

by Elaina Jadin

  “He’s allowed,” he answers finally, his lips twitching with the hint of a snarl. “You are his just as much as you are mine, just as you are Kade’s.”

  He releases me and returns his attention to the spread of files on his desk. Despite his words, I can’t help but wonder if he’s displeased that I was with Bishop. Draven appears to be the leader of this group, the one who calls the shots. Does that mean he had first rights to me?

  I wonder if I’ve crossed a line—or, rather, if Bishop crossed the line and pulled me over it, too, because I have no idea what the hell the arrangement is here, other than what I’ve been told, but Bishop must. Was there something more to his desire to lay me across that table than his own curiosity and lust? Was he trying to fuck with Draven, too?

  A tendril of anxiety grows inside me as I kneel there, wishing I could read Draven’s thoughts. More papers are shuffled, and I wait, trying to be patient, wondering what he has planned for me tonight. It’s a sick anticipation.

  I’ve tasted the pain he can bring me, and I already ache from Bishop’s punishments earlier. My imagination runs wild, taunting me. Will he bend me over his desk again? Or perhaps lay me across his lap?

  In my current position, he could pull me between his legs and demand to fuck my mouth. Or wrap his fingers around my throat, cutting off my air supply.

  I’m trapped in purgatory and Draven is my judge.

  As the minutes slip by, a heaviness settles over me, as though the air were a weighted blanket. It brings a stillness to my racing heart, and with it an acknowledgment of truth: I cannot predict what awaits me, just as I cannot foretell the strength of a gathering storm, even if I wanted to.

  He’s in control. Tonight, I am his.

  15

  Jemma

  “Up.” Draven tugs at my chin, and I rise.

  He guides me until I’m standing between his legs, between him and his desk, and he slowly unties my robe, spreading the silky fabric with his hands, his eyes roaming across the pale flesh he reveals.

  Draven’s fingers trace the bruises forming on the front of my hips and thighs, and I can’t tell whether he disapproves of the blemishes on my otherwise milky skin or not. When he presses hard against the darkest one, I gasp, his eyes flicking to my face to watch my reaction.

  He’s quiet, unlike the day before when he spoke to me each time he touched me. He promised I’d be begging for him before he fucked me, that he’d make me need him. I wonder if that’s tonight.

  His fingers drag down my sides, hooking into the silk material of my thong, and he drags it down my legs until it falls around my ankles. He makes a soft tap against my knee and I follow his silent command, stepping out of them, holding on to the desk behind me for balance rather than bracing a hand on his shoulder. Some instinctual part of me knows not to touch Draven without permission.

  He gestures at the desk behind me and issues another one-word command. “Sit.”

  I can’t help but wonder if I’ve displeased him, if he’s angry and brooding over Bishop having me first. I want to say something to ease the tension I sense coiled inside him, but I can’t think of anything that would help. The truth is, I wanted Bishop to fuck me. I needed him to.

  But I want Draven, too. And Kade has awakened my curiosity, as well. I’m promised to all three of them—but the thought that Draven might punish me nonetheless has me half-terrified… and totally aroused.

  I lift myself onto the edge of the massive desk behind me, my feet coming off the ground as I scoot back further at his direction. When his hand squeezes just above my knee, I stop wiggling and grow very still. Slowly he spreads my legs, shifting his knees between mine, holding me open to him.

  Draven reclines back, propping an elbow on the arm of his chair, and simply looks at me. His eyes fixate on my breasts and it’s as though he can see right through the delicate fabric of the bra. Then his eyes trail down my stomach, noting the way my muscles twitch as the fire of his gaze moves across my skin, before moving lower to the neatly trimmed patch, and finally his eyes focus between my thighs.

  He flicks his hand, gesturing for me to part my legs further. As I do, he draws in a long breath and his thumb brushes softly across his lips, his gaze drinking me in.

  This isn’t the first or even hundredth time I’ve been naked in front of a man. But this... Draven’s eyes sear my skin hotter than candle wax ever could.

  I’m vulnerable in an unfamiliar way and I have to fight the impulse to hide, to wrap the robe back around my bare skin and pull my knees up against my chest. I don’t want him to look at me for too long. Because then he’ll see how damaged I am, how close to shattering I am.

  How easily he could destroy me.

  Part of me wants to run—from my own demons, but especially from the monster before me, the one with glittering dark eyes and a carnal hunger that threatens to rip me into a thousand pieces.

  But the other part of me…

  His eyes return to my face, capturing me just firmly as his hand had held my neck when he dragged me over to this desk in front of Bryan.

  “You’ll be attending a large fighting event with us this week.” His voice is like rough velvet, rasping over my skin, thrumming along every nerve in my body. “You will be expected to act with decorum fitting our position. Which means I expect complete and utter obedience at all times.”

  I quietly bite on my lower lip, and he clears his throat impatiently.

  “Yes, sir. I understand,” I say quickly.

  “No. You don’t.” His tone is so serious a shiver snakes up my back and the hairs on my neck stand at attention. He pushes his chair back, smoothing his tie as he stands, before bracing his hands against the desk on either side of my hips, his face hovering above mine.

  “You’ll be exposed to a part of our lives that revels in blood and carnage,” he continues. “A place where the polite rules of your civilized world don’t exist. A place where challenges are issued swiftly and met without hesitation, even knowing it may end in death.”

  I stare back at him, my breath shallow with uneasiness as the weight of his words sink in.

  “I don’t expect you to fully appreciate the cut-throat nature of our business, but what you must understand is that I will not tolerate any act of defiance in front of our friends or enemies.” He draws in a breath, his nostrils flaring slightly, and his jaw hardens as he stares at me. “I control this territory, and the Barons have many friends, but even our allies will exploit any weakness they perceive.”

  My eyes flit to the scar that runs from his ear down to his neck, and I wonder if it’s related to the danger he’s speaking of. My heart is pounding as I nod. “Yes, sir.”

  He stares at me, a darkness in his expression that snatches the air from my lungs. “I tell you this for your own well-being. To defy me would be to your detriment. You will not be my weakness, little fawn. Is that clear?”

  The gravity of his tone hangs in the air, thick and heavy, like a blanket of lead pressing into me, and my nerves simmer under my skin. “I’ll try my best, Alpha.” My voice quivers as I answer as truthfully as I can, unsure if I can swear to what he demands without knowing exactly what instructions I’ll be expected to obey. But God knows I’m going to try, whatever it is.

  “If you fail me—” he wraps one hand around my throat and slowly tightens his grip as he speaks, “—my punishment will be swift, and you will not enjoy it.”

  I’ve no doubt the punishment he’s promising would be nothing like what I’ve experienced at his or Bishop’s hands so far. Even as his words slice through me like poison-tipped arrows, each one lacing my stomach with fear, I straighten my spine and nod in acknowledgement, determined to rise to the occasion, to make him proud to have me in attendance at the fight.

  He lets go of me, and I pull in a breath, not realizing how hard he’d been squeezing. I eye him warily as he sits down and reclines against the back of his leather chair again.

  Something in me is deeply, uncontrollab
ly attracted to Draven, but I’m beginning to think it’s the part of me that likes to flirt with danger, to dance right on the edge of sanity.

  “I have a question, and you are free to reply as you wish.” He tilts his head as he speaks, and the edge to his voice softens, as though we’re having a casual, spur-of-the-moment chat.

  But I already know from my short time here that nothing about Draven is casual—or spontaneous. He’s already played every possible move out in his head, planned a thousand strategies for every single one of them.

  I tense, tendrils of adrenaline wrapping around me as I wait for him to continue. From the moment he mentioned it earlier, I knew I’d have to explain myself sooner or later. My mind whirls, grasping for excuses I don’t have, trying to ready myself for his questions about Bishop.

  “Both Bishop and Kade have told me of the reaction you have when you’re confronted with the sight of a canine. Is this response only when you see them?”

  He hasn’t explicitly given me permission to move, but I nearly curl into a ball right there on his desk, my arms automatically wrapping around me at the sudden change of topic.

  Here I thought he would be asking me about my time with Bishop, and I was already on edge, anticipating that line of questioning, but this is much worse. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, to form a reply, but it’s firmly lodged in place.

  I don’t dare to keep Draven waiting, though. “And when I hear them, sometimes,” I croak out, my voice barely a whisper at first. “When it’s sudden or I’m not… prepared. And whenever the dreams have been really bad, then it’s worse for a while. But sometimes I can hold the panic back, especially if I can get it out some other way.”

  He says nothing in reply, but the slight raise of his dark eyebrows prompt me to continue.

  “I try to draw it out,” I explain, struggling to find words that make sense.

  I’ve never had to explain this to anyone else. The counselors I’ve had over the years were always the ones who did the talking on this point, doling out their advice, pushing different coping mechanisms on me, none of which ever worked. The only activities that have provided a small measure of relief are ones I’ve discovered on my own.

  “It helps to get the emotions out of my head and onto paper,” I tell him. “Sometimes sex works… but Bryan...” I hesitate, wondering if I should speak his name in front of Draven, if this is more information than he cares to know. I finish my thought quickly with, “His help has never been very effective.”

  Draven’s only response is a short hum, the sound low and soft, as though he’s digesting this information, and I can see the mechanics of his thoughts in the way he purses his lips.

  Finally, he shifts in his chair and lets out an almost imperceptible sigh, as though he’s reached a decision. “As I said before, these fights are unlike anything you’re familiar with. Wolves will be present at the event. There will be no avoiding them.”

  My stomach drops violently, left on the ground to bleed while the rest of me catapults into the air. Nausea crashes through me like a tidal wave, and I nearly gag on the need to throw up, my throat burning with the promise of such action.

  Suddenly, Draven’s hand wraps around the back of my calf, his grip nearly crushing in its strength, his fingers digging into my skin. I don’t know if it’s from anger at my visceral reaction to his words, or if he’s providing me an anchor from the storm of panic that threatens to carry me away, but I focus on his touch, letting the pain ground me.

  “I don’t… I can’t…” I shake my head adamantly as my body shudders with involuntary sobs.

  I want to tell him that if the wolves come near me, I won’t be able to obey him, that I won’t be able to control my actions. That it will be the type of disgraceful public scene he’s warned me to avoid.

  “Please don’t make me get close to them,” I finally manage to choke out.

  He watches me for a moment, his grip still a tight vise around my leg, before he nods once. “I will ensure they keep their distance. You have my word.”

  “Thank you,” I breathe out, the sound more of a desperate gasp than proper words. I can’t stop trembling, despite the relief inflating my chest, and my stomach is still in knots. “I don’t want to disappoint you, sir.”

  A small smile tugs at the side of Draven’s lips, and I focus my attention on his features, consciously commanding my mind to note the shape of his mouth, the shadow where his lips press together, the subtle difference in skin tone across the hollow of his cheeks, the way the stubble darkens his jaw, the mystery behind his dark brown eyes. I want him to fill me completely, to consume all my thoughts, to push everything else out of my mind until there’s no room for terrifying beasts or vicious nightmares or tormented memories.

  Minutes tick by in almost complete silence, the air between us viscous but sweet, like raw honey, as I drag in slow, deep breaths. My anxiety slowly ebbs as I study him, committing every inch of his face to memory.

  Why I find the view of him reassuring is something I don’t have the mental bandwidth to completely unravel at the moment. Perhaps it’s the solid sureness in his posture, or the wealth of cunning knowledge that lies behind those dark eyes, or the way his fingers press into my skin with a fervent resolve, as though he’s the iron stake keeping me tethered to reality.

  He quietly watches me watching him, but he doesn’t have Bishop’s curious stare, or his calm, calculated energy. Some part of me knows I’m testing Draven’s patience, that he has little tolerance for people who come unglued in his presence, yet for some reason he allows me time to collect myself.

  And, as though he’s intimately familiar with my inner demons, he seems to know exactly when they grow quiet and my panic attack subsides. His grip on my calf eases as my breathing returns to normal and my insides finally stop vibrating.

  “Now,” he says, leaning toward me, his tone firm, “there are other matters to attend to this evening. You answered my question truthfully. I believe in rewards. And you have earned one with your honesty.”

  Draven pulls my arms apart, pressing my palms flat against the desk on either side of my thighs, then opens my robe once more, baring me to his eyes again.

  My pulse is racing as his gaze slowly moves over me. He slides a hand up my thigh, his touch blazing across my skin, and I draw in a sharp breath, my anticipation and nervousness crashing into each other like rogue waves inside me. Will he take me right here, stretched across his desk?

  I can picture it in my mind, his strong hands holding me captive, his body fully in control of mine. My heated core clenches at the thought of having him inside me, of wrapping my legs around him and clinging to him as he drives me over the edge.

  His eyes flick to mine and the corners of his mouth curl. “No,” he says, a rumble of amusement in his firm tone as he cups the front of his pants, where there’s a clear, thick bulge. “You haven’t earned this yet, little fawn.”

  A small shiver runs up my back and spreads across my skin, both at how unnerving it is that he can read me so easily, and at the dangerous implication of his words. Of what he has planned, of what would make me worthy.

  I’ve never met a man who wasn’t eager to take as much as he could from me. Yet, he holds back.

  I have no delusions about Draven—I know in my very soul that this man intends to take everything. Probably more than I can give.

  But he’s in no hurry.

  He stands and steps forward, his body pressing into my space but not quite touching me, making me long to close the gap between us, to have him against me. I meet his eyes and swallow hard, desire and fear dancing inside me, a chaotic tango.

  I want to lift my fingers to his crisp, white shirt and undo all those buttons, but I don’t dare move my hands from where he placed them on the desk. Instead, I press the heel of my palm against the hard wood and quietly scratch my nails against the surface, my fingers aching with desire to touch him.

  He runs a hand down the side of my face, hi
s fingers dragging through my hair, his eyes on my lips. He’s so close the heat of his breath wisps across my skin like a teasing caress and for a moment, I close my eyes, breathing in the heady, masculine scent of him. When I open them, he’s just two inches from me, and his tongue runs across his bottom lip, his mouth parting as he lifts his eyes to mine.

  I’m nearly dizzy with the thought that he might kiss me, but a second later he steps back.

  Draven undoes his tie, slowly pulling it from his shirt collar before folding it in half and snapping it between his hands, the sharp sound making me jump. Another devious smile of satisfaction plays across his lips at my reaction.

  He’s relishing this, enjoying every ounce of lucidity he pulls from me, knowing what I want and stoking that hunger until I’m drowning with need.

  And then he’s tying the silk fabric around my head, blindfolding me, as my nerves jangle and the heat between my legs grows into an inferno.

  16

  Draven

  It’s been a long day, and I’m ready to enjoy my latest acquisition.

  She’s blindfolded and half naked on my desk. My eyes trail over her bare skin, taking in every detail. The subtle but rhythmic movement of the veins pulsing in her neck, the curve of her small but inviting breasts, the smooth but tense muscles of her stomach.

  All that pretty pale flesh waiting to be devoured.

  Moving my hands to her knees, I slowly push them apart while keeping my eyes locked on her face. Jemma presses her lips together, resisting for a moment, the muscles in her thighs tensing, but we both know I’m going to get what I want.

  She relents to my demanding touch, and I can smell her fear—and her arousal. It’s an intoxicating combination.

  Her chin quivers and her hands clench against the desk as she presses her lips together nervously. She’s nearly beside herself, anticipating what might be in store for her.