Dynasty: A Mafia Collection

by Jen Davis

  No matter how hard I tried to fight it, the blood running through my veins had made this decision for me.

  I would kill Tatum Linscott.

  Chapter 19

  Tatum

  I stared at the piece of black chalk and the stack of papers Castello had placed on the bed. My reward. Of everything he could have given me—food, water, luxuries I was denied during my time here—he had chosen paper and chalk. The only two things that would allow me any kind of escape, a way to leave this place even for just a few moments.

  If I was given the chance to choose my own reward, this was exactly what I would have chosen.

  Taking the piece of chalk between my fingers, I softly rubbed it with my fingertips. The chalk felt rough yet smooth at the same time, already whispering words of images it wanted me to draw. That was the thing about art. Anyone who didn’t understand it, didn’t experience it, thought an artist chose what would be painted or drawn on the canvas. But they couldn’t be more wrong. An artist might have an idea of what he or she wanted to appear on the sheets of white, but in the end, it was only when we held that brush, that pencil…that piece of chalk that the true image started to take shape. In the end, most of the time, the result was something you didn’t anticipate, didn’t plan…didn’t expect. Like most things in life, it hardly ever turned out the way you originally thought it would.

  After pulling on the black silk nightgown Castello had given me, I climbed onto the bed and crossed my knees beneath me. My stomach was fuller than it had been in days, my body still electrified from what Castello and I had done earlier. The cut on my thigh and the ache between my legs would be a constant reminder of that for a while.

  The second I put the piece of chalk to paper, I switched from prisoner to free-spirited artist. Lines and swirls of black took my mind far away from all of this. Away from the four walls casing me in. Away from the threat that was held against my throat like a sharp blade. And away from him.

  He was the man whose sole purpose was to destroy me, yet his touch made me feel like it was the only thing that could save me. So many contradictions, so many illogicalities, so many denials.

  My thoughts were whirlwinds of conflict and debates, my soul a giant ball of entwined feelings, knotted emotions I didn’t know how to sort through—which was why I drew.

  More lines, more shadowed corners and circles. Memories of my old life forced their way into my head, affecting the image in front of me. I was carried away with the reminiscences of the life I had before all this started. Even though it had only been days, it felt like years had passed.

  The chalk in my hand filled one sheet after the other, drawing my emotions out of me and onto paper. After every completed image, I would toss it to the floor and immediately lose myself in the next one. Image after image, paper after paper…until finally my fingertips touched the soft sheet. There was no more chalk left for me to draw. I’d used it all, just like Castello planned on using all of me. Once this was done, there would be nothing left of me. The most nerve-wracking part of it all was even if I did survive, I would never be the same again. He made of sure of that. His touch made sure of that.

  If I walked out of this alive, I’d be haunted by this for the rest of life. Not because of the abuse or because of the fear of being kidnapped and kept against my will by people who wanted me dead. No. I’d be haunted by him, by his wicked touch, how the slice of his blade gave me what I’d searched for, for so long…freedom. Freedom by letting me embrace who I really was, what I really wanted.

  I was fucked. Whether I lived or died, I was screwed. If I had to die, it would be the bullet or the knife that took my life. If I had to live, it would be his touch, his kiss, his unmistakable dominion over my body that would take my life, my soul.

  Falling back onto the mattress, I stared up at the ceiling, my jumbled thoughts making me wish I had more pencil or chalk to draw with. It was the only way I could sort through my emotions—always had been.

  I didn’t look at what I drew. I just left it there on the ground. No matter what images were displayed on those pieces of paper, there was no way it could help me now. It might help me sort through the wires that crossed inside my head, but it couldn’t save my life.

  I closed my eyes. Drawing had managed to bring me some sort of relief, enough to make me realize how much I needed to rest. And for the first time in days, I drifted off to sleep with the tiniest sliver of peace settling over me.

  ***

  I jerked awake with a masculine hand covering my mouth. Fear exploded through my body as my mind raced. The lights were off, but from the distinct scent of cedarwood and amber, I knew it was him. That, and the way my body hummed from his touch, even though panic surged through my veins.

  “Shh.” He leaned down, and I felt his cheek against mine as he placed his other hand on my middle. “I need you to be quiet, little mouse. Can you do that?”

  I nodded, and he lifted his hand off my mouth. My body was rigid, my heart pounding like a jackhammer as he took hold of my elbow, guiding me off the bed and out of the room. The first thought that went through my mind was another dining hall humiliation scene, and I couldn’t handle that.

  As we passed the door, I grabbed the doorframe, pulling myself back. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Be quiet and come with me.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not going to the dining hall again. Please, not that again.” My throat closed, my chest tightened, and my legs felt like they would give way beneath me at any moment.

  It was dark, and I sucked in a breath when his palm cupped my cheek. “Relax, little mouse.” His thumb touched my bottom lip. “There will be no spectators tonight. Only me.”

  My fear settled, yet my heartbeat didn’t slow in the slightest.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  His hand moved around my shoulder, his fingers wrapping around the back of my neck. It was such a simple touch, yet he managed to make it erotic, sensual, slowly coaxing my body to respond to him. He traced a delicate line across my jaw with his nose, and I could hear him inhale, taking in my scent. With a nudge just under my jaw and a tug at the back of my neck, he urged me to lean my head back.

  “I’m taking you to a place no man has ever taken you before.” Soft, delicate kisses slid down my throat, his lips and tongue touching and lapping against my skin. Everything inside me was coiled tight with a kind of anticipation that had the power to render me incapable of moving.

  The touch of his hand moved from my neck, over my shoulder, and down my arm before he wrapped his fingers around my elbow. “Now, be silent, little mouse.”

  My legs moved, and I put one foot in front of the other—willingly. I let Castello lead me without knowing where and without putting up a fight. It didn’t make sense that my body moved to follow him while my mind screamed at me to fight. But with every step I took behind him, the anticipation that brewed inside my belly, pooling between my legs, got stronger.

  It wasn’t until we took a turn down a familiar hall that I realized where he was taking me.

  “We’re going to your bedroom?”

  He didn’t say a word as he opened the door and pulled me inside. With my back toward him, I heard the door shut and the click of the lock. My heart was racing, my palms sweating, my goddamn thighs clenching as the ache intensified.

  “Why did you bring here?”

  I felt his hard, warm body push against my back as he placed his hands on my shoulders.

  “I couldn’t sleep, Tatum. Wicked, enticing, dirty images of you were keeping me awake, and all I thought about was that I wouldn’t be able to rest until I’ve brought those images to life.”

  I swallowed hard, unable to breathe evenly. “What are you going to do to me?”

  His lips touched my ear. “Everything you’ve ever fantasized about.”

  My legs started to shake, my spine tingling with expectation, my body buzzing with so much eagerness. Yet I couldn’t tame the fear that lingered—o
nce again the fear of the unknown. I probably should have gone on my knees, pleading and begging for him not to hurt me like any normal person would do, but I didn’t. I just stood there, waiting, breathing, praying I’d survive whatever he had planned.

  “Do you trust me, Tatum?”

  “No.”

  I felt his lips turn into a smile against my ear. “Good. You shouldn’t.”

  He stepped away, my traitorous body immediately pining for his warmth. My gaze followed him as he walked toward an oak cabinet.

  Only then did I notice he was wearing a pair of jeans and a white shirt, a drastic change from the sleek, perfectly fitting suits he always wore. Placing a key into the lock, I wondered what he had hidden in that cabinet that required it to be behind lock and key.

  When the lock clicked open, I flinched, the sound echoing through the room. My stomach was nothing but equal knots of nerves and excitement as I watched him reach inside.

  When I saw what he pulled out of it, I sucked in a breath, my stomach and heart both fighting for a way up my throat.

  He noticed my reaction.

  “It’s only chains, Tatum.”

  “Chains can hurt me.”

  “They can also give you what you need.”

  He started toward me.

  “What is it you think I need?”

  “Oh, I don’t think, Tatum. I know.” He stopped mere inches from me, the silver chains in his hand glinting under the soft light of his room. “What you need…is me.”

  The chains dropped to the ground, clattering together, the sound sending a jolt of electricity throughout my body.

  A roguish grin crept up on his face, the scar around his eyes twisting with the movement. “You see, Tatum, the mere idea of being bound and left completely at my mercy has your body coiled tight.” He lifted a hand then slowly dragged a finger down my chest, between my breasts, over the silk nightgown, all the way down until he reached between my legs. “Now imagine what would happen to your body when I turn your fantasy into reality.”

  I sucked in a breath when he swirled his finger between my legs, still touching me through the silk fabric. No matter how hard I tried, it was impossible for me to fight the hold he had over my body. But I still tried, even though I knew by the desire throbbing between my legs that it was a lost cause.

  “Stop fighting it, Tatum. You’ll lose, just like you did when you were on your knees crawling in front of me, wanting nothing more than to please me. Embrace it like you did last time. Let me push your body. Let me show you what you’re capable of.”

  Fear slowly turned to desire, apprehension to lust. The temptation clung to his every word like a virus, its sole purpose to infect me.

  “Let’s play, Tatum.” He leaned forward, his lips touching my shoulder. “Just. Say. Yes.”

  Lord, help me. I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Yes.”

  Again, I felt his smile against my skin, his lips working their way up my neck. He was right. I loved pleasing him like this. It was so fucking insane yet so utterly necessary.

  “Do you know what a safe-word is for, Tatum?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He nipped my earlobe with his teeth. “Now forget it, because you won’t need one.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works,” I countered, my insides a lethal mixture of nerves and anticipation.

  “It’s how I work.” His hand moved up my middle and cupped my breast, the sensation causing me to sway as my legs weakened. “How will you know what your body is fully capable of if you have a way out?” He pinched my nipple hard, and I yelped with the sudden pain that eased into pleasure as it moved down my spine. “Your mind is a powerful thing, Tatum. It will convince you that you’ve reached your limit when, in fact, your body is far from it. A safe-word will only give your mind more power to stop you from pushing every boundary it has ever set.”

  He stepped back, removing his lips and hand from my body. I inhaled deeply, trying to tame the burning desire threatening to bring me to my knees.

  Shaking, shuddering, and craving more, I watched with eager anticipation as he pulled a pair of scissors from his back pocket, the silver blades winking with cruel intentions.

  My body went completely stiff when he reached for the hem of my nightgown.

  His gaze shot up to mine. “Let go, Tatum. Please me and let go.”

  For a few seconds, we stared at each other, something unspoken passing between us as if an invisible line of trust was being drawn.

  With a slight nod, I forced my body to relax. The sound of the sharp scissors cutting through the fabric resonated around us, every slice, every crunch causing my insides to coil tighter and tighter. His eyes never left mine, and I found comfort in the darkness of his gaze. We might be enemies, but somehow whenever we were this close, it felt like we were the same—the same creatures craving the forbidden.

  And then the scissors nicked my skin just as it reached the end of the fabric between my breasts. I gasped as the slash burned my flesh, but the way his eyes grew darker, the intensity stronger, I knew he had done it on purpose—and I loved it.

  I glanced down, a tiny drop of blood pooling between my breasts, and the most sordid part of my being loved the sight, loved the pain…loved how twisted all of this was.

  Without saying a word, he reached up and wiped the drop of crimson away with his thumb. It burned, but not as strongly as the fire in my core. After the ecstasy I experienced with him earlier, my body already craved it again, wanting, needing, demanding to be taken back to that edge of decadent wickedness.

  The black nightgown fell in tatters around my feet, leaving me completely naked in front of him. A wild, untamed look crossed his face as his gaze swept over my nakedness, and it fed the hunger inside me. It was like he was capable of touching me with his gaze, caressing me with his stare that screamed uncontrollable desire.

  “This is so fucked up,” I whispered.

  “Isn’t it?” He leaned down and sucked a nipple between his lips, his tongue swirling against the tip.

  I gasped, my eyes rolling back in my head before my nipple popped out of his mouth as he straightened. “That’s what makes all of this so goddamn good.”

  “What? The fact that you want to kill me one minute, then fuck me the next?”

  “That’s what’s turning you on, isn’t it? The fact that you feel unsafe with me, that you don’t know what to expect? You think you fear the unknown, Tatum, when in fact you relish it.”

  “That’s what you—”

  He drowned my words with his mouth, kissing me hard as his tongue pushed past my lips. With every sweep of his tongue, he assaulted my mouth like he craved the taste of me. God knew I longed for his, unable to get enough of the flavor that was so uniquely twisted and forbidden…so him.

  Every second his mouth remained on mine, I drifted deeper and deeper into his corrupted world of dissolute seduction and sinful temptation. Funny how my mind no longer even bothered fighting it but rather chose to accept it since it had lost each and every battle with my body so far. It was liberating, really, not having the urge to fight it anymore—just allowing my body to bask in the power this man seemed to yield over me. Whether I died next year, next week, or tomorrow—right now, I didn’t care because my mind, my soul, my body was all about him, all about him owning me in this moment.

  A soft groan rumbled in the back of his throat as he peeled his lips from mine. My subtle moan followed suit.

  Taking my chin in his hand, he pinned his gaze on mine. “Now shut that pretty little mouth of yours and let me have you the way I want you.”

  He crouched and reached for some of the chains he had dropped on the floor.

  “Put your hands behind your back.”

  I obeyed, slipping back into the role of his pet and him my master. Amazing how it came so easily now, so naturally for me to obey. Was one fuck all it took for him to tame me?

  The steel chains were cold against my heated skin, and my breat
hing became more labored the tighter he wrapped the chains around my wrists.

  “Does it hurt?”

  I tugged a little, moving my wrists. “No.”

  He jerked it tighter, the cold steel pushing hard against my skin. I flinched.

  “How about now?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  He stepped forward, and I could swear to God every move he made had the power to send shivers throughout my body. It was like I was completely tuned in to him, feeling his presence in every corner of every bone in my body. The air around me was filled with nothing but him, like he possessed all my senses, making it impossible for me not to be aware of him.

  From his other back pocket, he pulled out a blindfold. “Do you trust me yet, little mouse?”

  “How can I trust a man who wants to kill me?”

  He paused, and for the briefest of moments, I saw a flash of guilt pass through his dark eyes as he stared at me. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

  He placed a hand on my chest, his thumb brushing against my throat. “Not tonight. Tonight, I’m once again the man who can give you what you need, the man who will make your body come alive.”

  And then everything went black, the blindfold secured over my eyes. Not being able to see was exhilarating yet frightening at the same time, my body instantly going on full alert.

  There was a sound of more chains before I felt something soft, like velvet, wrap around my neck. It was a collar, and I swallowed hard when I heard the click as it locked. There was a cold chain hanging down my front, thinner, more delicate than the chains wrapped around my wrists.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered into the darkness, my heart beating faster with every second that passed.

  “Hush, little mouse. Ignorance is bliss, remember?”

  I didn’t dare counter with my comeback of “knowledge is power.” The last time, it came back to bite me in the ass, and I had a feeling the outcome would be the same now.

  “Spread your legs.” His voice was demanding, like his grip around my ankle.