by Dani René
I need to talk to my dad or even my mother because the idea of being with a man like Lycan Shaw forever doesn’t leave me all warm and fuzzy. But then the memory of what he did to me last night assaults every sense. My skin prickles as the phantom touch of him teases me. I can’t stop the ache that slowly tightens in my stomach when I recall how his fingers brought me pleasure, even as anger rolled through me.
He’s an expert.
He clearly knows my body and can manipulate me like a musical instrument, but that’s only an indication of how many women he’s been with, and that’s not a man I want to spend my life with. When I do decide to give myself to someone, to take their name, it will be because I’m the only one they’re with. I don’t share, and I certainly will not be a wife forced to bear children while he goes fucking everything in a skirt.
When the bedroom door opens again, I’m met with a gentle smile from an older woman I haven’t seen before. She moves into the room and sets down a tray that has a plate covered with a silver dome, along with coffee, which I can smell from my bed, and a glass of orange juice.
“Mr. Shaw will be with you soon,” she says before heading out, leaving me alone to ponder just what Mr. Shaw wants to do today. Perhaps he’d like to kick a puppy. Rolling my eyes at the childish thought, I push off the bed and make my way to the tray. I reach for the coffee first, which is rich and dark, and I add a splash of milk from a small porcelain jug and a spoon of sugar, which I slowly stir into the liquid.
“Didn’t take you for having a sweet tooth.” His deep baritone comes from behind me, and I almost drop the mug, but I set it down before I face him. I take him in, allowing my gaze to rove over him from head to toe. Dressed casually in a pair of dark blue jeans and a Henley, which matches the color of emeralds, I can’t help but admire just how handsome he is.
His tanned skin, with the dark dusting of stubble now closer to being a beard than not, makes my thighs involuntarily squeeze together. He doesn’t come inside; he lurks on the threshold of the bedroom, and I wonder if he’s staying far from me to hold onto some form of restraint.
“What was that gunshot last night?” I ask, remembering seeing him in the darkness, hearing the loud echo ringing in my ears. His expression turns dark as if he’s shutting down the hatches, keeping all the secrets inside. Those emeralds simmer with rage for a split second, but with a blink, it’s gone.
I expect an answer, but when he opens his mouth, he changes the topic. “The priest will be here this evening to meet with us. I want us to write our own vows,” he says nonchalantly as he crosses his arms and leans against the wall not far from the door.
He knows what he’s doing. Keeping the escape route blocked. Even if I could get past his looming frame, I have a feeling I wouldn’t get very far. He’ll catch me without putting in any effort.
“You want me to write vows?” Incredulity laces my tone, causing Lycan to chuckle. “I’m not marrying you.” I’m adamant, squaring my shoulders after stepping away from the vanity, leaving my coffee behind. I’m almost certain I’m going to need two hands for this interaction.
“Of course you are,” he says. “It’s in the contract. You have no choice in this, Scarlett.” He straightens, pushing his hands into his pockets, forcing my attention to drop to his crotch, which has my stomach fluttering wildly at the thought of what he’s hiding in there.
Snapping my eyes to his, I shake my head. “No. What you’re suggesting is archaic, just something my parents would do to piss me off. To rule my life as if I were still a child.”
“Oh?” His dark brows arch as he watches me inquisitively. “If you force my hand, Scarlett, I will happily bind you to me and carry you down that fucking aisle.” His tone is a crash of no-nonsense whiplash—commanding and domineering.
“And what? You expect me to wear a pretty white dress as well?” My sneer is evident.
His smirk is unmistakable. “Let me make something clear,” Lycan says, taking two long strides closer to me, eating up the distance before he continues. “You will be Mrs. Shaw by the time this month is over. On your birthday, you will be mine.” And that’s when it hits me — I turn twenty-one in a few weeks, and he wants us to exchange our vows. I never once thought I’d be married so young.
Narrowing my gaze, I tip my head to the side as I watch his reaction to my next question. “What do you want? Why me?”
This time, he moves closer, swallowing the inches that keep us apart, wedging me between his muscled thighs and the furniture. “I want a queen, little red,” he speaks softly, his voice merely a taunting whisper as his breath wafts warmly over me. “I want a woman I can proudly walk beside in public. To watch every man’s eyes on her while they slobber for a chance to take her, but knowing she is mine. In her elegant beauty, she’ll shine amongst the fake, plastic smiles while I introduce her to my world.”
He stays silent for a moment, probably waiting for what he just said to sink in. When he doesn’t continue, I prompt, “What else?”
“I also want that same woman to come home with me every evening and allow me to fuck her until she can’t think straight. I want to wear her out, make her cry and scream, make her come, and then I want her to take my seed. I want her porcelain flesh to be marred by my mark. The bruises I’ll bestow on her skin will be my ownership of her, and when my cock isn’t inside her, she’ll feel the emptiness. The craving to have me will be her addiction, and her heart will be my ultimate prize.”
My heart catapults into my throat at the elicit promise of what he wants and needs from me. And deep down, I wonder if I can give that to him. I’m not some sweet, submissive doll he can dress and play with. Folding my arms in front of me, I meet those deep, jade depths. “You want arm candy and a fuck toy.” I shake my head as realization takes hold of me, and the picture becomes clear.
“If you want to put it so callously.” He shrugs before a small, wolfish grin tilts his perfectly pink mouth. “But…” Lycan reaches for my hair, tangling a lock of my long, red strands around his finger before tugging. The smaller smile from seconds ago turns dangerous as the corners of his mouth tilt upward, and he continues, “I want someone with intelligence who can stand beside me while running my business. A woman with strength and fire.”
My mouth falls open, gaping at his admission. I never expected him to give me so much honesty. “And that’s why you chose me?”
“Oh, little red, no.” He shakes his head. A somewhat hungry stare burns through me as he offers me a slight chuckle. His tongue teases his lower lip before his perfectly pearly whites bite down on the flesh, forcing my eyes to lock on the full, pinkish mouth I’m tempted to taste. “I was given you as a payment. I didn’t know I would want you until the night we met.”
“That makes no sense.”
He tugs my hair once more before gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “When you spoke back to me, when that fire burned in your eyes, that’s when I decided I’ll take you, and your father agreed.” A flash of satisfaction dances in his darkening gaze before he leans in, his mouth teasing its way over my cheek to my ear. “And that makes you mine.”
The heat of his breath and the promise in his tone has my skin bursting with goose bumps, the tightening in my gut twisting with a need for more pain as he tugs at my hair. My thighs instinctively squeeze together even though I try to fight the desire that’s burning through every inch of me. My stomach somersaults with a flurry of nerves when Lycan’s teeth graze the supple flesh of my ear lobe.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.
I want to hate Lycan, and I think I do, but also, anger at my parents takes precedence.
But even under all that, there’s the need for him that’s coursing through my veins like a drug. It’s as if I’ve been shot up with something strong and volatile, something I’m not sure I can fight. Even though I know, I should.
Pulling away, I lock my glare on him before I voice, “I won’t marry you.” But the hoarsely whispered
words aren’t as strong as they were earlier.
“We’ll see,” Lycan responds before stepping back, leaving me cold and shivering at his absence. “Eat. Enjoy your coffee. I’ll see you later.” He heads to the door and stops on the threshold, glancing at me from over his shoulder before winking.
And then he’s gone, and I’m left angry and frustrated.
14
Scarlett
Unconvinced. That’s the emotion coursing through me when I wake up in the darkened bedroom. When I think about marrying Lycan, I’m unsure of myself, of his intentions, which he seemed to make clear last night, but there’s a hint of doubt plaguing me.
Pushing off the bed, I pad barefoot to the window, pulling open the heavy, lined curtains to find what looks like a chilly morning, the grass shimmering with drops of dew settled on the green blades. The forest beyond seems to swallow up the light, offering only a warning—don’t enter here.
I move to the vanity, taking in the beautifully carved wood, the smooth surface where Lycan had pinned me down before spanking my ass. The memory is still fresh in my mind, replaying when I need it least. I don’t want to remember how his hands felt on me, but every interaction so far has been intense. And if I had to be honest, it’s left me frustrated—more at the fact that he has such an effect on me.
I shouldn’t want him, but my body betrays me each time. The man is an Adonis, and when he’s around me, I’m merely a mortal girl, one with needs that flare like wildfire at his touch. Shaking my head, I go into the bathroom to freshen up before dressing in a pair of leggings, and a large sweater that falls just below my butt. Slipping on a pair of ballet flats, I pull my hair into a messy bun before I open my bedroom door.
He hasn’t given me an order not to explore the house. Instead of sitting in the room, I’m going to try to learn more about the man who’s stolen me. If I can find a phone, perhaps I can call my grandmother. She’ll know what to do.
At the thought of her, I wonder if she knows Lycan. Surely, being neighbors, she would need to know the person living next door to her. The fact that he knows my father is also jarring. A connection that is still confusing me. Growing up, I never heard the Shaw or even about Lycan himself. Why has he only now appeared in my life?
My feet carry me down the long hallway, silently over the carpets which line the floor, leading me from door to door. Each one I push open is another bedroom. By the time I reach the far end, the last door is locked, and I can’t for the life of me figure out if it’s another bedroom or if on the other side is something far more sinister.
A giggle bubbles in my chest at the thought. I’ve been reading far too many romance novels. My mind is clearly playing tricks on me. But I wouldn’t put it past Lycan to have a red room where he would torture women into submission.
Heat sizzles over my skin, leaving goosebumps in the wake of the thoughts that take hold of me. I don’t want Lycan. And even as I tell myself silently that it’s true, my mind and body are at war.
Ignoring the niggling at what’s behind the black, wooden door, I turn and head for the staircase, leading me down to the ground floor. The house is silent. There’s not even a clink of cutlery or crockery from the kitchen.
The smooth, marble tiles muffle my steps as I head into the living room to find it empty. The house is immaculate with furnishings that ooze wealth and beauty, something I’ve grown up with, and so I’m accustomed to the stench of money. It reeks. As thankful as I am that I didn’t have to get a student loan for my studies, I also know just how much responsibility comes from having family money.
I wonder briefly about Lycan. He’s much older than I am, but I’m sure he must feel some heaviness from always having to be flawless. When you’re thrown into social circles all your life, it comes with the expectation that you’re perfect. But nobody can be, and that’s something my mother never understood.
Every inch of the house has been decorated with the utmost care, from the color of the fabrics to the paint against the walls. The floor underfoot is warm, and I wonder if there’s a heating system hidden from sight.
“Oh,” a soft voice of shock comes from behind me, causing me to spin on my heel. A woman, who looks to be about my age, stands before me, a silver tray in hand.
“Hello.”
“Hi,” she greets. Her eyes are wide, her mouth tilting upwards at the corners. “Are you…?” Her voice falters, her cheeks turning a soft pink as she regards me. “Are you here for Mr. Shaw?” The way she’s looking at me makes me feel as if she’s assessing me.
“I…” Honestly, I have no clue how to answer her. Am I here for him? Or am I a prisoner in his house? A bit of both. I’m not sure why Lycan wants me of all people. Surely there are a million women out there who would be better suited to him. “I’m not sure,” I finally tell her.
“Oh,” she whispers, setting the tray down gently. She moves quietly as she places the cup, small teapot, and plate on the setting at the head of a long, wooden dining table. The silver cutlery shimmers as the sunlight that’s now streaming through the patio doors brighten the space. Once she’s readied everything, she steps away.
“What is your name?”
The young woman glances at me with uncertainty on her pretty features. With long, chestnut hair tied into a ponytail at the back of her head and porcelain features, I wonder if Lycan finds her attractive.
Shaking my head to clear the stupidly jealous thoughts away, I focus on her. “I’m Scarlett. My family lives next door. Well, my grandmother does.”
“You’re the Bardot?” Her gasp is loud, her eyes even wider than before, the blue tinkling like sparkles in the sunlight. “I… I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
Confusion settles in my gut, my brows furrowed before I ask, “What do you mean?”
Her mouth opens as if to respond, but a moment later, she shakes her head and makes to leave me alone in the room with more questions than I have answers.
“Wait, please. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She glances at me from over her shoulder, her expression void of emotion as she looks at me. “My name is Aliana,” she tells me. “Please, don’t ever speak to me again. It’s best that way.” Before I can ask something more, she’s gone. The door to where I’m guessing the kitchen is hidden swings shut, and I’m alone.
What have I done to her to make her so angry?
The door I entered through opens, and there on the threshold is the man who brought me here. Dressed in a gray suit and black button-up, he looks like he’s ready for board meetings, and I wonder what work he does. I don’t recall him telling me, and I don’t remember if my father mentioned it at the dinner when we first met.
“Now, this is a sight I could get used to every morning,” Lycan says with a wolfish smirk, making his handsome face light up with amusement. “What are you doing here, little red?” He moves through the room as if floating on air. When he finally reaches me, I take in the dark stubble on his jaw, and for a moment, my hand tingles with the need to touch it.
“I… I was just exploring the house and found my way in here,” I tell him, omitting the fact that I met Aliana. The pretty girl seemed to not want me around, and to be completely honest, I wouldn’t want to be around here, but I know if I tried to leave, Lycan would find me before I made it next door.
“Well, sit,” he tells me before pulling out one of the chairs, which I slide into. Perhaps Lycan will give me answers. I can only hope and pray. “I’ll call your grandmother later,” he informs me, which has me straightening my back.
“Let me talk to her. I need to understand—”
“You don’t need to do anything.” His dark green gaze lands on me, holding me hostage, stealing the breath from my lungs with the dark promise of something I truly don’t want to fathom. He is danger wrapped up in a tailored suit. That’s all it is. Undeniably handsome, but also unpredictable in his demeanor.
“I need to speak to my family. You cannot hold me here for no reason. I’
m not your property, even though my father signed that godforsaken agreement.” My voice is brittle with frustration, my throat feels dry as if sandpaper has lodged itself in my esophagus, and with each word I utter, it only seems to hurt more and more.
“If you’d like to talk to someone, it can be your friend, Aelin. Other than that, you’re not to talk to anyone else.” His voice comes out with a warning that if I were to try anything, he’d know, and he would hurt me.
“Then let me speak to her,” I plead because if I can talk to her, then she can get help. She can call my father and get him to sort this mess out. Fix what he did.
Lycan ignores me for a moment as he pours the hot tea into a cup. I watch as he drops a small spoon of sugar into the liquid and stirs a few times. Once he sets the teaspoon down, he shoves the cup toward me. “Drink this. It will calm that fire so we can talk like adults.”
“Don’t treat me—”
“Scarlett,” he growls, my name a warning on his lips, his eyes blazing with fury when he looks at me again. “If you don’t want to obey me, I’ll happily tie you to the St Andrew’s cross in my dungeon and leave you there, naked and crying, until you realize I’m the one in charge here.”
My mouth falls open in shock, but my body responds to his threat with heat sizzling in my veins. The apex of my thighs pulsing with unrelenting need, and I can’t stop myself from squirming in the seat. I don’t want him to have this hold over me, this effect that sends me rabid with hunger for him to do just what he’s promising. But I can’t help it. My traitorous desires take hold when Lycan throws his dark promises at me.
“You may be in charge in this house, but you don’t own me.”