Toxic: A Dark Romance

by Zoe Blake

  Because of me, she was returning to that monster and I knew, deep down in my bones, it would be the death of her.

  Chapter 4

  Richard

  Moving from a terza guard position straight into a full, bent-knee lunge, I watched with dispassionate satisfaction as my polished steel rapier hit its mark and sank in deep, almost reaching the family motto etched in an elegant scroll on the blade, Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum.

  If you want peace, prepare for war.

  Dark crimson blood blossomed into a sickening rose pattern across the white linen jacket.

  Taking a step forward, I stared down at the supine form at my feet.

  Her long chestnut hair was a tarnished halo of tangled curls about Elizabeth’s head as her beautiful full lips drained of color. Thick fans of sable lashes rested against her deathly pale cheeks, hiding her mesmerizing green eyes from me.

  “Goddamn it, Richard! Did you have to sink the blade in so fucking deep?”

  Blinking my eyes, I shook my head, clearing the vision of Elizabeth from my mind. In its place was my sparring partner, Andrew.

  Leaving for London moments behind Lizzie, I had waited till she was secure at Jane’s before returning to my home. Needing to burn off some aggressive energy as I waited for Jane to do as I’d bid her, I engaged in a no-holds-barred sparring match with Andrew.

  I had known the Marquis of Greyhorn since our days at Oxford but wouldn’t consider him a friend. I didn’t have friends. I had acquaintances and business partners. Pawns. All of them.

  The only person who mattered to me was Elizabeth. Everything I did, every breath I took, was for her. She brought light and energy into my jaded, oppressively colorless life. Her fresh innocence had broken me free of my dissolute existence. Before her, there had been no air around me. Nothing left to pique my interest or challenge me.

  Then I started my games with her. She was so delightfully malleable. So easily led down the path of debauchery and sin. An unwilling yet complicit partner. The stakes were high. There were no rules, and yet she played. Why? Because she loved me.

  There was no power on Earth, no amount of riches, that could compare to the heady sensation of having a woman obey your every command, no matter how depraved, out of loving obedience.

  Then, this morning, she had betrayed me. It wasn’t the moment she’d pulled the trigger. She had acted in a moment of passion and obsession. I could not only forgive such an act but was immeasurably pleased by it. In a way, it was a compliment. Not just any man could inspire such a volatile mix of love and hate in a woman.

  No, she’d betrayed me the moment she’d walked out the door, and for that she would pay. Dearly.

  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind, my little bird would fly back to me. My hold on her was too strong. Still, obviously it was time I secured her to me more permanently. These temper tantrums and the idea that she had freedom of choice in our relationship needed to stop.

  She was mine. Full stop.

  After this morning, I would put a plan into place to make sure she never left my side again.

  The final end game.

  “Fuck. It won’t stop bleeding,” complained Andrew as he struggled to his feet, holding his side.

  “It’s barely a flesh wound,” I scoffed as I tossed him a towel from the sideboard before grabbing a chilled bottle of water, swallowing half its contents. I had no sympathy for him. He knew I preferred to spar with sharpened blades instead of the usual dull, rubber-tipped fencing swords. Where was the challenge or excitement in a sword fight without the danger of injury?

  As I watched him press the towel to his injured side, the large wooden crest hanging low against the brick wall caught my eye. Painted with bright gold and royal blue, it was our family crest: two broad swords crossed over a dead dove.

  A constant reminder that a Winterbourne always prevailed. Always.

  Snatching the half-empty bottle of water from my hand, Andrew downed the remaining liquid. Swiping his mouth on his fencing jacket sleeve, he groused, “Does everything have to be taken to the extreme with you, Richard?”

  Selecting an orange from the bowl set out by my staff, I smirked. “Without the threat of deadly consequences, what would be the point in doing anything?” Sinking my thumbnail into its skin, I pulled back the soft rind, exposing the sweet flesh of the orange.

  Waving the bloodied towel at me, Andrew continued. “You’ve made my point, old chap. You know, not everyone considers life a zero-sum game.”

  Placing a slice in my mouth, I crushed it with my teeth, relishing the burst of tart sweetness, ignoring his statement, knowing my answer would reveal too much of myself to him.

  Turning away, I flicked open the cloth buttons before shrugging out of my confining fencing jacket, grateful to feel the chilled basement air on my skin. As a precaution against the sting of the sharpened blades, I usually wore the heavy canvas-like jacket but defied tradition by sparring in jeans and bare feet.

  When I had purchased this building in Mayfair, one of the first things I did was to convert the wine cellar into a fencing studio. I covered every square inch of the thick brick walls in a mix of antique and modern weapons, from swords to daggers to dueling pistols.

  Crossing the varnished maple floor, I racked my sword before turning back to Andrew. “You’re just upset because you shouldn’t have bet your Pallavicini against me.”

  “You would be bastard enough to hold me to that stupid bet.”

  Shrugging, I swiped a towel over my sweat-dampened chest. “Consequences.”

  Andrew had annoyed me ever since he’d swiped the great seventeenth-century rapier master’s sword from me in a pre-auction bid in Italy two years earlier.

  That Pallavicini sword should have been mine. And now, after two years of maneuvering, I had finally manipulated Andrew into offering it up on a foolhardy bet against me.

  He should have known me long enough to realize I never make bets I can’t win, and I always win.

  From the doorway, someone cleared their throat. “Your Grace, you have a guest.”

  Stepping out from behind my butler, Elizabeth appeared.

  Her simple white t-shirt, tucked into a pair of too-long jeans, appeared almost translucent where her wet hair had soaked the fabric, exposing the dusky pink areoles of her nipples.

  Andrew gave a low, appreciative whistle. “You are one lucky bastard, Winterbourne. Bet she’s a hot piece of as—”

  With a growl, I rounded on Andrew. Throwing him against the rough brick wall, I pressed my forearm against his throat. His eyes widened as he gasped for breath, clawing at my bare chest.

  Elizabeth’s screams were lost as the blood pounded in my ears.

  “You ever so much as look at her again, I’ll jam a sword so deep into your chest you’ll taste steel. Do you understand me?”

  Andrew choked out his response.

  After waiting another moment, making sure my threat was clear, I released him.

  Clasping at his throat, Andrew ran out of the room, not even stopping to pick up his discarded rapier that lay at our feet.

  With the primal blood urges of anger and lust still running high in my veins, I pivoted to face a wide-eyed Elizabeth.

  Breathing heavily, I rasped, “He escaped. You won’t be so lucky.”

  Chapter 5

  Richard

  Elizabeth’s emerald eyes darted over my shoulder to the exit.

  My body tensed, ready to pounce.

  Her foot slid to the right, as she slowly turned her body in the door’s direction.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” I warned.

  The sudden bark of my voice echoed off the bare brick walls and visibly startled her.

  She leaned forward slightly… then my little bird took flight.

  Running in an arc, she bolted for the door.

  I was too quick for her.

  Lunging, I stretched out my arm and caught her around the waist, pulling her struggling body against my chest. Her deli
cate frame no match for my strength. I could feel each thin bone and soft curve of her body as I pressed it to mine.

  So delicate.

  So easily breakable.

  Elizabeth screeched and clawed at my forearm. “Let me go! Let me go!”

  Wrapping another arm securely across her shoulders, I tightened my grasp on her. The pressure against her ribcage stifled her breath and ceased her struggles.

  Taking the soft lobe of her ear between my teeth, I bit down. “Never,” I growled.

  My blood was up. I wanted this fight with her. Needed it.

  Releasing my hold, Elizabeth stumbled forward before swinging to face me.

  Pushing her damp curls away from her face, she just stared at me with those wild, beautiful eyes of hers. A single tear coursed down her flushed cheek.

  I would never get my fill of this woman… of this.

  I wanted to swallow her screams and taste her tears. The wicked beast inside of me craved to devour every innocent glimmer of light within her soul till I had filled it with the same shadows as my own. I knew there was darkness inside of her. It called out to me. There was nothing in my life so enthralling or so challenging as drawing it out. Forcing it to the surface to come play my twisted, depraved games.

  Backing up a step, keeping her palms defensively before her, she breathed, “It was a mistake to return.”

  Reaching for my belt, I slowly slipped the long leather strap through the sterling silver buckle as I took a threatening step toward her. “Yes, it was.”

  What was the point in denying it?

  She had angered and betrayed me.

  As I told Andrew, life had consequences.

  Especially when you dared to fight me over something I wanted to possess.

  And I would possess Elizabeth. In time, I would burn away all her defiance until she finally accepted that her fate lay with me… and only me.

  Scrambling backward, her chest rose and fell with each quickened breath. I could see the sharp outline of her nipples through her still-damp t-shirt. Closing my eyes for a moment, I imagined her in the shower. Soft, warm water caressing her skin as foamy, iridescent bubbles clung to each curve. My cock swelled and pressed painfully against the zipper of my jeans.

  “Richard, I love you, but we have to end this. It’s too toxic. It’s become too twisted,” she pleaded.

  I nodded as I pulled my belt free. Running my hand down the long, thick length of leather before folding it in half in my right fist. “The only way you escape me, Elizabeth, is in death. You were mine from the first moment I laid eyes on you. Nothing has or ever will change that.”

  I took another step toward her, my intent clear.

  With a cry of alarm, Elizabeth scanned the wall before grabbing at one of my displayed swords—a rather ominous Russian Cossack saber. Pulling it free of its hardened black leather and gold sheath, she exposed the long, flat, razor-sharpened blade.

  Holding the hilt with both of her small hands, she extended the heavy blade in front of her, pointing it at my midsection.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she warned. Her voice sounded high and thin with a slight wobble.

  She was afraid.

  She should be.

  Keeping her gaze locked with mine, I took two deliberate steps in her direction. Wrapping my left hand around the blade, I ignored the harsh sting of pain as its sharp edge sliced into my fingers.

  Elizabeth gasped, her cherry lips opening in shock as I placed the point of the blade over my heart.

  “Richard… don’t—”

  She tried to back away, but the wall prevented her. Keeping my grasp on the blade, I lifted it higher till the point leveled over my heart. Refusing to take my gaze off her, I let the tip sink into my flesh.

  “Oh, God,” she whimpered.

  Releasing the blade, I stood there. Watching as small drops of my own crimson blood trickled down the blade’s bright silver edge.

  “Do it, Elizabeth. Thrust the blade into my heart.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Richard, please… I can’t… don’t make m—”

  “Do it,” I yelled, my harsh intake of breath driving the point in a little deeper. Hissing through my clenched teeth at the pain, I reached past the blade and placed my left hand over her trembling grasp. “Drive it deep into my heart because that’s what you will do if you leave me.”

  This might take my sadistic manipulation to new levels, but I didn’t give a damn. I would not go back to my colorless, jaded existence. It was her and her love or nothing for me.

  With a cry, she dropped the sword.

  Kicking it aside, I pounced.

  Pinning her body between my own and the jagged brick wall, I placed my left hand on her jaw, forcing her head back. Her pale skin became smeared with my blood. With the edge of my thumb, I rubbed her lower lip, pressing it against the edge of her teeth. Inhaling deeply, I breathed in the floral shampoo scent of her still damp hair and the musky scent of her fear.

  Leaning down, I breathed in her breath before claiming her mouth in a punishing kiss. Sweeping my tongue inside the peppermint sweetness of her mouth, sullied by the metallic tang of my blood. Swallowing her whimpers, I pressed my hips into her own, wanting her to feel the hard threat of my cock.

  Pulling back, I commanded, “Get on your knees.”

  Her green eyes flashed and sparkled with unshed tears. Her lids slowly lowered, the dark fan of her eyelashes appearing stark against her pale, tearstained cheeks. The bloody handprint on her jaw and neck only fueled my lust.

  With a shaky breath, keeping her head and gaze lowered, Elizabeth fell to her knees before me.

  Reaching for the fastening of my jeans, I unzipped them one-handed as I rested my right fist against my thigh with my leather belt still in my grasp. An ominous threat of the pain she would still endure once she was done sucking my cock.

  Pulling the thick shaft of my cock free, I fisted its length, stroking up and down as I watched her cheeks flush with what I knew was anticipation.

  My baby girl wanted this. Whether or not she wanted to admit it, she craved the brute force of my cock being thrust down her throat. I was the one who’d taught her the pleasure to be had through pain and supplication. She was my depraved angel, my dark creation.

  “Open your mouth.”

  Her trembling lips obeyed.

  Thrusting my fingers into the hair on the top of her head, I pulled her forward to tilt her head all the way back before pushing her head once more against the wall. I imprisoned her at a particularly vulnerable angle. Stepping forward, my bare feet straddled her hips as I towered over her.

  As I lifted my shaft, my voice was guttural with need. “Lick my cock. I want to feel your tongue.”

  The tip of her tongue stretched out from between her open lips. I felt the soft swipe of it along the underside of my shaft from base to tip. The moment her tongue reached the head, I shifted my stance and pressed into her open mouth.

  The sharp edge of her teeth scraped along the underside as I thrust in deep, wanting to feel the tight grasp of the back of her throat, needing to hear her choke and gag from the intrusion.

  My little bird didn’t disappoint.

  Her small hands reached up to press against my thighs.

  Her shoulders shook as she choked and sputtered… still I pressed in.

  The back of her throat squeezed the head of my cock. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my hips forward. Thrusting past the muscle at the top of her throat, my shaft slipped in deeper. Forcing her to deep-throat my cock, I pivoted in and out of her vulnerable mouth. Caught between my legs and the wall, there was no escape for her. Pushing her head so far back, it was equally difficult for her to even try to close her mouth.

  Imagining the bulge along the delicate skin of her throat as my cock inched in deeper, I increased my pace. Her muffled moans sending exquisite vibrations up my shaft.

  “Open wider, baby girl. You’re the one who wanted to play with
swords,” I quipped darkly with a smirk.

  The feel of her incredibly tight throat was made even more pleasurable by the frenetic sweep of her tongue as she tried to move it around my invading cock.

  Spittle fell from the corners of her mouth to mix with her tears. Her eyes pleaded with me to have mercy. I showed none.

  I wanted her to feel my wrath. Needed to dominate her in the most primitive, debasing way possible. By forcing her to accept my cock deep in her throat… and soon even deeper into all her holes. I would conquer all her senses so the taste and feel of my cock became her only reality.

  Grinding my teeth, my head dropped back as I assaulted her perfect, beautiful little mouth. Reining in my desire to thrust it in even deeper… dangerously deep. I needed to control everything about her… even when she breathed.

  As much as I craved to see my cum dripping from her tongue, my careful plans would not allow it. I would drive my seed into her belly where hopefully it would soon take root.

  Pulling free, Elizabeth choked as she inhaled her first oxygen-starved breath.

  Dropping the belt, I grabbed her by the flimsy t-shirt she wore and hauled her to her feet. Leaning in, pressing my still-hard cock against her stomach, I buried my face in her sweet-scented neck and rasped, “What do you have to say now, my little one?”

  Her enormous jewel eyes, clouded with an evil twist of desire and fear, stared back at me. Her gaze then lowered to the still-bleeding wound over my heart. Running her fingers through my chest hair, she touched the sticky crimson liquid before placing her palm over the wound… and pressing hard.

  I bared my teeth as a hot sting of pain, no more than I deserved, spiked down my spine.

  Leaning against the wall, she tilted her head back and to the side, exposing her vulnerable neck. A perfect sign of supplication before moaning in defeat, “Make it hurt.”

  With a roar, I tore the t-shirt that stood between me and her skin to shreds before roughly palming one breast while I took the other deep into my mouth. Sucking and biting her nipple as I relished the feel of her fingers pulling my hair as I kicked my own jeans free.