She didn’t want to leave.
She wanted to stay.
She wanted to wait for him.
For as long as it took, she would wait for him.
Forever. She would wait forever.
Because…she did love him.
She was in love with her warden. A sob caught in her throat as she doubled over, holding her chest. He saw her as an object to fuck. To tease. To control. To lead around and call pet. He saw himself above her. He considered himself her owner. He saw her as nothing but a release.
And, her, being the desperate, lonely girl who craved contact and just wanted to be wanted, had fallen irrevocably and utterly in love with every side of him he’d allowed her to see. The powerful billionaire. The unfeeling bastard. The madman. The erotic commander. The gentleman.
The lost boy.
“I love you, Frosty,” she whispered. “I love you. I want you to know that. I see who you are, all that you are, the good and the very, very bad, and I love you anyway.” She slid down the wall and hugged her knees to her chest as the door was pulled down. The sudden darkness was terrifying, and the loud clang of the lock engaging hurt her ears. “I wish I could tell you that even after everything, I love you anyway. But you wouldn’t hear me. And if you did, you’d use it against me.” She dropped her head down to hide. “And I’d find a reason to let you.”
As the truck pulled away from the castle and headed down the mountain, she gave up and finally cried freely. Her cold fingers curled around her collar, and as she clung to what it represented both physically and symbolically, she vowed to do exactly what Lucian had done; put this warped and broken fairy tale out of her mind and get on with her life.
TWENTY-THREE
As the limo came out of the dark lane and circled the drive, something that had been winding tighter and tighter inside Lucian from the moment they’d left New York reached the end of its tether. He couldn’t give it a name; he just knew he needed to take care of it. And he would. With her. Right now. He discarded a few ideas in favor of others. He might need a couple of days to get through everything.
The car had barely come to a complete stop before he was out the door. He didn’t care in the least that he appeared anxious. He was anxious. He needed to feel her. Taste her. Lose himself in her for hours. He wanted her mouth under his, her body wrapped around him. Her scent in his nose. The sound of her voice in his ear. He wanted to listen to her jabber and laugh. Moan. He needed to see her eyes lighten then darken, then smile.
He needed to tell her what he’d done. Who he finally had in his possession.
He needed to apologize for leaving her alone for so long. Pets didn’t appreciate that.
He took the stairs two at a time and entered the castle, not pausing before he was making his way to the second level.
He was breathing heavily and was marble hard by the time he threw open their door.
Her scent saturated the room, but it was empty. He cursed and went into hunting mode, traveling the corridors, sniffing her out, listening for the sound of her voice. The ballroom, theater room, sitting room, and library were all as empty as the bedroom. His heart was now racing, his demons leading him to the last place she could be. The kitchen.
He entered the room and smelled apple pie. Teodora and her daughter were the only two there.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
They hadn’t heard his footsteps, and both started and spun to face him. “Oh! Mr. Fane! Welco—”
“Where is she?” he rudely cut into the older woman’s greeting.
The two looked at each other. “Yasmeen?” Iulia asked.
His groin stirred. “Yes. Where is Yasmeen?”
“She retired upstairs earlier and has not come down since.”
“I just came from our room. She was not there. Nor was she anywhere else I looked.” His chest started burn. “When did you last see her?”
They looked at the clock. “Two hours ago,” Teodora stated. “The six-thirty delivery came shortly after she left us.”
She left us…she left us…she left us…
The words echoed, bouncing off the walls faster and faster, beating on Lucian as they whizzed by. He walked out and went straight to his office. As he approached and saw a crack of light coming from the door, which had been left ajar, he had no more reason to check the security footage. She had indeed left. The Times was upside down on his desk. Her passport gone from where he’d tucked it into the pages.
He lifted his head and settled his gaze on a painting of the back gardens blooming with summer flowers, and pictured every horrific thing that could have already happened to her. An accident, attacked by one or a group of men, raped, mutilated, murdered. He was burning alive by the time he texted Sorin, who walked into the room within minutes.
“You’re working now?” he asked, frowning.
“You will shut down every possible method of transportation she could take to leave this country. Have her flagged as a terrorist if you have to. I do not care.” He straightened the newspaper and noted his hand was shaking. “Go get her and return her to me. Right now, Sorin.”
“She left? How the fuck?”
“In the delivery truck. Two hours ago. Go get her.”
“You are not coming.”
“No. It would be dangerous for her if I were to see her right now.”
“Lucian.” Disapproval weighed down his name.
“Go.”
Sorin didn’t go. “Now that the one who deserves your contempt and rage is in your possession, do you not think it is time we spoke openly about what you are doing with the one who does not but is suffering under the weight of it anyway?”
He lifted his eyes. “You do not want to broach this subject with me right now, Sorin.”
“Yes, I do. Allow her to leave.”
His jaws snapped together, and to prevent doing or saying something he knew he would regret, he turned his head to look into the unlit fireplace.
“From the time we left New York, I have been watching you. Waiting to see that darkness lift so I can welcome my friend. Why are you holding so tight to something you should never have embraced to begin with? You have him. He is in your possession. You can make him pay for what he took from us. You do not need to use her as a distraction anymore.”
How could Sorin not know how wrong he was? He did need her. She was his. She was tagged, marked. He’d marked her body inside and out. His collar around her neck, his seed deep in her welcoming pussy.
“This person you are becoming; let him go now.”
But Lucian couldn’t. Because this person was safe. Nothing could hurt him when he was like this. Nothing could reach him and make him feel the kind of pain he’d felt when Dr. Singh had pulled that blanket back and his baby brother’s face had been revealed.
“You are not going to listen to me, are you?”
“No.”
“Fine. I will get her and return her to you, but first, I will tell you what I think.”
“Don’t.”
“You are damaging that beautiful, vibrant girl. You are attempting to turn her into a fucking puppet who will soon bore you to tears. You are doing your damnedest to break her, and you cannot even see how incredible it is that she is not letting you. Her show of strength would be such an impressive thing to you of all people, if only you would allow yourself to see it. The first night you brought her home two years ago, she stood in front of the window by the baby grand, and she lit up the room. Do you remember that? I know you do because the look on your face was one I had never seen before. Or since.” He tipped his head and held up a finger. “Oh, forgive me. I did see it one other time. When she descended the stairs the other night, dressed as a TV show character because she is a smart, amusing, light-spirited woman. Do not squash that and leave her as a cowed dog who must return home with her tail between her legs because her owner has abandoned her to the darkness he introduced her to.”
“Is that all?”
“N
o, it isn’t. You also need to be told your conscience did not die with Markus. It is just more convenient for you to claim it did.” He nodded, his beard rippling. “That is all.”
“Your opinion has been noted. Now, go get my pet.”
Sorin’s sigh was a long, frustrated sound. “Very well.”
“Text me when you have her.”
He gave a clipped nod and was gone. Lucian lowered himself into his chair and became still. He watched in his lower periphery his tie jump as his heart slammed behind his sternum. He felt…fragile. As if he might shatter if he moved. He didn’t shatter, but he did move.
“Please go away before she returns,” he murmured politely to the demons he allowed to rise and take over.
♦ ♦ ♦
Four hours after being shut into the back of the delivery truck, Yasmeen was fighting a pounding headache and trying to ignore her aching muscles. Ten minutes ago, she’d settled into her seat aboard a flight heading from Brasov to Paris. After a brief stop in Munich, she’d carry on and by morning, she’d be sitting at a Parisian café with Kristen.
When the Uber driver had dropped her off at the doors to the airport, she’d bought her ticket and then found a payphone. She’d called Kris collect, and proving her friends had spoken since Yasmeen had left New York, Kris had freaked out when she’d heard Yasmeen’s voice. After the screeching had stopped, and Yasmeen had cut off her own fucking irritating tears that just wouldn’t quit, a mere portion of her story had spilled out. Kris hadn’t pushed as Miranda would have done. Thank goodness, too, because something was stopping Yasmeen from giving all the details she knew she should. She’d disappeared from a funeral and was surfacing on the other side of the world days later. She should explain.
She couldn’t.
She knew already, no matter how much pressure Miranda put on her, Yasmeen had no intention of sharing every detail of this adventure. Hers and Lucian’s time together was…personal. More private than anything she’d ever had in her life. And she would protect that.
She rested her head on the window and closed her eyes. Where was he? What would he do when he learned she’d left? Would he even care beyond the fact that she’d disobeyed him? She bit down on her bottom lip when it trembled. God, she wanted him to care.
She paid no attention to the pilot’s voice when it came over the intercom to announce their departure. Couldn’t understand him anyway. But she did peel her tired lids back when a commotion started up at the door that had just closed. She frowned when the pilot himself came out, glaring at the flight attendants as he worked the latch to open them up again.
The pilot turned toward his audience and said something that had everyone getting up and filing out of the plane, murmuring and casting suspicious looks at each other.
Yasmeen’s heart started racing. Oh…no. “This is nothing,” she whispered to herself as she dragged her ass up to join the queue. “He probably isn’t even in the country. It has nothing to do with you. Probably ice on the wings or something.”
A man waiting for a break snuck in front of her with a curious look aimed over his shoulder. She tried to give him a reassuring, I’m-not-crazy smile but couldn’t because she was pretty sure she was.
The cold wrapped around her legs as she neared the door, but she didn’t feel it because she was already a walking icicle. She didn’t think she’d ever feel warm again.
She stepped out onto the top of the rollaway stairs to see the entire airport had come to a standstill. Flight staff and ground crew were clustered in little groups, talking and pointing at the plane. People were at the windows of the brightly lit terminal, faces pressed to the glass as they gawked.
At the plane Yasmeen was on.
There were two vehicles on the tarmac, right at the bottom of the stairs. One had Spencer standing next to it; the other had Sorin. Her knees almost failed her as her owner’s power was once again displayed for all the world to see.
A battle took up inside her. A huge part of her celebrated this while another part was consumed by dread.
She didn’t realize she’d paused until she was shoved from behind and sent down the stairs. She missed a step and barreled into the man who’d cut into the line a second ago.
The deep boom of Sorin’s voice had every single person shutting their mouths and freezing. The man who saved her from falling carefully righted her and then moved as far away from her as he could in the space they had to maneuver in. Lucian’s meathead shouted a few more sentences that had the people in front of Yasmeen scurrying down the stairs and scattering. They ended up behind two uniformed officers.
Sorin climbed the dozen steps and offered her his hand. “Come, Ms. Michaels,” he murmured in English.
“I don’t think I want to,” she rasped through her tight throat.
His harsh expression softened. “I know. Come.”
“Sorin. Where have you…? Is he…? Will I be in…?” She couldn’t complete a sentence. Could they have been waiting for this moment? Had Lucian been testing her? Had she just failed him? Oh, God, no.
“It will be fine. If it puts your mind at ease, I will remain with you once we reach him.”
She blinked as her knees knocked together. “You will?”
“Yes. You have my word.”
She searched his dark eyes then nodded and put her hand into his to allow him to lead her down the steps. “Is…is he in the car?” she whispered, dropping her chin to her chest so she wouldn’t have to see all the curious, interested looks they were getting.
Her hand was released. “Lucian would order that head up. If he were here and not in such a bad place, he would say something like; my queen should look down at her kingdom, not her feet.”
That had her stealing a glance at him to see if he was screwing with her. He didn’t return the look but bent and opened the Bentley’s door. Lucian’s queen? Happiness peeked out from behind the wall it was hiding behind in her heart.
“You will ride back on your own.” He handed her into the car. “He opted to remain behind because he needed the time to calm himself before I deliver you to him. He is incensed, Ms. Michaels.”
Every emotion she possessed ran for cover on hearing that. Her stomach lurched, and she would have dived for the other door, but she knew there was no point. She wouldn’t get far. The display on the tarmac proved it.
♦ ♦ ♦
As soon as Lucian saw the headlights pass through the gate, he turned from the cracked monitor that was on its side and kicked his way through the debris covering the floor. He left his office and leisurely made his way through the hallways, timing it so he wouldn’t have to wait. He’d done enough of that.
The outer door opened the moment he entered the foyer. A stoic Sorin in full protect mode came through first. Then Lucian’s wayward pet followed. What he felt at seeing her was indescribable. She wore a black mini-dress, high-heeled boots that came up over the knee, and the coat she’d worn to Markus’s funeral. The one he’d meant to burn.
He made his way to her and put his hand out. She looked up at him through her lashes. He could smell her fear. He could smell her. “Your coat.”
A quiet click sounded when she swallowed. She shrugged out of it and gave it to him. He took it and opened the door so he could toss it onto the steps. “Never again.” Closing the door, he turned to face her and looked her over. “Sorin, would you leave us, please.”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “Um, can he stay for a few minutes?”
“Why?” Lucian’s voice came out but a whisper.
“Because I’m afraid of you.”
He forced himself to incline his head. “Ah. It is a relief to know your senses have not completely deserted you.”
“No, Lucian. Only you did that.”
“Forgive me, pet.” He went to her and took her hand in a gentle hold. Turning it over, he pressed a kiss to her palm. Was this the hand she’d used to steal from him? Her passport? Money? Had she used this beautiful hand to open the
door to freedom? So she could leave his home, effectively stealing the only thing on this godforsaken planet that brought him comfort? Her.
“I would have called, but I was in the middle of impaling my brother’s killer on the front lawn of my estate. I felt I needed to send a message to others that what is mine…” He locked eyes with her. “Is mine. And it does not get fucked with. Unless it is I who is doing the fucking,” he whispered. “Where is your handbag?” He traced the collar she still wore with a steady gaze and then with a finger. “I left the key to this treasure in there but neglected to tell you. Forgive me.”
Yasmeen blinked rapidly, and her chest rose and fell as if she’d only now dared breathe. “Um, my stuff is in the car. Lucian?” She circled her fingers around his forearm. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.”
His held his expression. Why did she have to remind him of that while Sorin still stood next to them? To hide his fury over her second attempt at desertion, he gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. When her scent invaded him, he had to make a conscious effort not to curl his fingers into claws to hold her in place. “You are here now.”
She sighed and returned the hug. He felt her nod and knew she was releasing her guard.
“I will get her things,” Sorin murmured.
The corner of Lucian’s mouth tipped up, and the minute the door closed behind them, he drew back and let his mask fall away.
“What a bad, bad girl my precious pet was while I was away.” He latched onto her wrist when she went to stumble back, her face falling. He held fast as he stepped over to throw the lock on the front door.
Then he dragged his naughty pet toward the rear of the castle.
TWENTY-FOUR
Yasmeen tried to dig her heels in as she shouted for Sorin. Oh, God. This was bad. This was really, really bad. “Sorin!”
Grievous (Wanted Men Book 5) Page 25