Fear pools in my belly, and a tear slips down my cheek. “Yes.”
His amusement fades, slowly turning into a glare. “Time to teach you a lesson.”
Before I can fight him off, he drags me up by his unforgiving grip in my hair and I let out a screech of pain. My scalp burns and when he tosses me onto the bed like I’m a rag doll, I scramble away from him, trying to find a way to save myself. Trying to find an escape.
There isn’t one.
Saint stalks toward me, murder in his eyes, but we both jerk to an abrupt halt at the noise. I’d never known what it was before last night, but I do now.
It’s gunshots. And they’re close.
Far too close.
I see it there in his eyes.
I’m not the only one in danger anymore. We all are.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Saint
Ballsy, brave bastards.
I’d expected to be followed to my home when I left such obvious breadcrumbs, but I didn’t actually think there’d be violence. Surveillance for certain, but not a full-on attack. Surely they know they’ve embarked on a suicide mission.
The motherfucker who ruined my plans to punish the pretty little girl with nefarious intentions is about to meet his maker. If whoever it is makes it to the second level of my home, I will take pride in crushing his face in with the bottom of my foot.
“Who is it?” Melody whispers, as she slides off the bed and onto the floor, crouching as though to hide herself from them.
“Someone very, very stupid,” I murmur, my Glock already aimed toward the door. “Stay quiet.”
She drags the blanket off the floor and wraps up in it. “Be careful.”
While keeping an ear out, I turn to drag my gaze down her form. Her green eyes flicker with worry but not fear. I’m curious about her response to the situation. It’s almost as if she really did mean those words.
Be careful.
Since when has anyone ever uttered those words to me?
Mother?
“Stay put,” I instruct, as I twist the knob and quietly pull the door open.
My men are quiet, which means there’s a hide and seek game going on with our trespasser. I edge along the wall in the hallway, careful to avoid the creaky boards. Melody remains silent, much to my approval.
I can’t allow myself to get distracted by her, but I can’t help but admit I enjoy her presence. Where I originally thought she was a scared little girl, she found a way to use her situation to her advantage in an attempt to make an escape.
A futile one.
We both know she’s never escaping.
And yet, she still tried, knowing she’d get caught. Knowing I’d punish her pretty ass for her grave mistake. My dick, still hard and aching in my slacks, has me eager to murder this person who’s come into my home shooting, so I can get back to toying with my little pet.
With each step down the stairs, I listen for the intruder. So I don’t get myself shot, I make three quick clicks of my tongue. The sound is mirrored from somewhere close, like the living room, and a little farther into the kitchen. Now that I’ve located my men, I need to find where this person is.
A crunch can be heard near the entryway, but as I reach the bottom step and peek around, no one is there. Just broken glass littering the floor and the door standing wide open.
Hyde comes into view from the dining room. I motion to him and then wherever Roscoe must be and indicate they need to check the perimeter of the house in case the perp got back out.
I creep down the hallway and head toward my office, since that’s the only door that’s open. My ears are on alert as I listen for sounds. Inside the office, nothing is amiss. I check the closet and under the desk before I make my way back into the hallway.
I’m about to check another room when I hear a cry of surprise from upstairs. Then, heavy footsteps before a door slams. I stalk up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
No one comes to my home.
No one knows where I live.
If I want them here, I lead them here.
This has Silas Westwood written all over it.
The stupid bastard thinks he can outplay me, but he’s sadly mistaken. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. He might have been able to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes and make them think he was a powerful badass, but I’ll always see him for the weak asshole he is. The one who thought he could take from the Vitale name and go unpunished.
Foolish fucking man.
Earlier, I went to his home myself. As my men said, there was nothing of use. I did, however, notice the man parked down the street watching our every move. Westwood must think I’m an idiot.
I usually take extreme precautions to make sure no one follows me to my home. This time, I led them to my front door. And Silas fucking Westwood fell for it.
Unfortunately, his old ass isn’t here. He’ll send his goons, but eventually, I’ll draw him out. I’m certain of it.
I reach the top of the steps and peek into Melody’s room. She’s gone. Her blanket remains. My heart tightens inside my chest. If they took her, I will burn down this city until I have her back in my arms. This shit goes beyond revenge and proving who has the bigger set of balls.
She’s my prize.
I’ve lived my life working my ass off and having her here means I can enjoy the fruit of my labor. I almost got to bite into that juicy, nearly forbidden apple, when my day was ruined by this trespasser.
“Be quiet,” a voice hisses from my bedroom. “I’m trying to help you.”
I stride into my room, my Glock raised and pointed at the trespasser. The man wears a black ski mask and all black clothes. In his arms is a naked, quivering girl. His palm covers her mouth and the other one holds a knife to her neck.
My girl.
Mine to punish and taunt and keep.
Westwood and I made a deal, one he obviously decided he wants to renege on. Some contracts can’t be torn up, though. This one can only be broken by spilling blood. And he’s a fool if he thinks he’ll ever get the chance.
“Did her daddy send you?” I ask, my voice low as I quickly skim her lovely flesh, looking for injuries I didn’t inflict.
“Not here to negotiate,” the guy says. “Just doing my job. Now move or I cut her pretty throat.” The knife in his grip glints as he pokes it into her neck.
Ignoring him, I inch closer, forcing the guy to back up near the window. A crimson rivulet of blood races down her neck. My mouth waters to run my tongue up her salty flesh and taste her. Melody whines but can’t speak. I glance at her green eyes expecting tears, but instead, they burn with intensity, darting to my right. Before I can interpret what she’s trying to convey, she stomps on the guy’s foot. His hold on her mouth slips, and she screams.
“Saint! The bathroom!”
Swinging my arm around, I squeeze the trigger as a man charges for me. The bullet tears through the side of his face, making him howl in pain as he stumbles to his knees. I squeeze another bullet out, this time well-aimed. It pops him in the forehead, ending his wailing.
“Fuck,” the guy holding Melody hisses.
I swivel back around, ready to end this motherfucker. He drags his knife down the side of her neck and then shoves her at me. A gasp rips from her as she collapses in my arms. I cling to her and fire off another bullet, this one blowing out her assailant’s kneecap. He screams as he crashes to the floor in the doorway.
Since he can’t go far with an exploded kneecap, I take a second to check on my pretty prize. I ease her to the floor and then brush her hair away to inspect the bloody mess that is her neck.
Pale green eyes stare at me, unafraid. Brave. Fucking beautiful.
I berate myself for the last thought, but it lingers, nonetheless.
“Tesoro,” I murmur, checking her wound. “Are you in pain?”
“It’s not deep,” she rasps out, her face growing pale and her lashes fluttering. “Did you catch him?”
“I’ve caugh
t the rat.” I rest her to the floor gently before rising to my feet. “Stay put, little one.”
Walking over to the asshole who’s still crying like a little bitch, I unload another round into him, this one taking out his other knee. He screams like a prissy girl, which only serves to annoy the fuck out of me. I pistol whip him to quiet him while I take care of Melody.
“Everything okay, Boss?” Roscoe calls from downstairs.
“Fantastic,” I grind out. “I want the live one down in the basement waiting for me.”
Roscoe appears, takes in the scene and frowns. “Is she…”
“Still living. Superficial. I’m going to fix her up and then I’m going to deal with that asshole downstairs.”
While he deals with the unconscious fuck bleeding out all over my floor, I stalk into the bathroom and hunt down my first aid kit. I wet a cloth and then carry my supplies back to the girl on the floor.
“You saved me,” she says, a smile tugging at those plump lips that looked lovely wrapped around my dick.
“I believe you saved me first.”
She’s quiet as I clean the cut. Rather than stitching her up, I use the medical glue and run a strip along her wound. A small hiss of pain escapes her when I pinch the area closed. Gently, and with my eyes on hers, I blow on the glue as I will it to dry.
“I didn’t want to go with him,” she murmurs.
“He was one of your father’s men.”
She frowns, a crease forming between her brows. “I don’t want to go with him either.”
Her words please me, though I don’t reveal that to her. Melody, despite being related to that piece of shit, is the perfect plaything. Just enough ferocity to make her desirable and interesting, but young and innocent enough she can be subdued into submission.
“I still need to punish you for what you did,” I murmur, my dick hard as stone in my slacks. “Don’t you agree?” I lift a brow as I remove my fingers from her neck and drag them between her tits that quiver with each breath she takes.
“I thought saving you would cancel it out,” she says, her bottom lip pouting out. “A good deed erases a bad one.”
I laugh, the sound dark and menacing. “You’ve much to learn, Tesoro. That’s not at all how it works. With me, you take the punishment you earned, and then you’ll also be gifted with the reward.”
Her cheeks blush a pretty rose. “How will you reward me?”
“With my tongue.”
I’m pleased when the blush turns crimson and spreads like a red haze down her neck to her chest.
“How will you punish me?” Her green eyes flicker with something dark and eager. “With your belt?”
“You want me to whip your pretty ass?”
She shrugs and then winces because of her injury. “Seems the least painful. Less messy than your other punishments.”
Like what the knee-less bastard will face when I’m done with this girl.
“Maybe I should combine your punishment and reward,” I taunt, teasing my fingers to her lower belly. “But, my darling captive, I can assure you…it will be messy.” Roughly, I grip her knees, spreading her thighs apart, so I can admire her young, untouched cunt. A pussy that just two weeks ago was illegal to most men.
Had I known exactly what it would have looked like glistening with arousal—starved for the villainous captor—then I’d have shoved my dick into it that day I met her years ago.
I’m Saint Vitale.
Lawless.
Age doesn’t scare me. Nothing fucking does.
I tease my knuckle along her slit, testing her slick opening with my knuckle. Slippery as fuck. The girl is horny for the danger I offer. Gets off on having a monster rescue her, slaughtering men brutally in front of her. Her wet, eager pussy is a testament to the fact she was waiting to get saved by a villain like myself. Rescued from her boring fucking tower and fucked into oblivion. The good girl craves the abuse I offer.
And that makes my dick really fucking hard.
Smack!
She cries out, her green eyes flared with shock. I barely suppress a chuckle at her outrage that I smacked her pussy. Before she can recover, I smack her again, this time harder.
“Saint,” she cries out, her eyes searching for mine.
“Careful, Tesoro,” I rumble, once again teasing her juicy opening with my knuckle. “You keep looking in the deep, dark blackness inside me and I’m going to suck you so far into it, you’ll never escape.”
With her challenging stare on me, she grips her knees, spreading herself open. “You said I was never leaving.” She bites on her bottom lip. “Was that a lie?”
I smack her cunt again, this time hard enough she jolts. “You’re never leaving. The moment your worthless daddy promised you to me all those years ago, you became mine. That means you will remain with me until the day you take your last breath.”
Smack. Smack. Smack.
I abuse her needy pussy with the back of my hand, satisfied how the flesh on her delicate skin turns red and splotchy. She’s so hungry for this violent pleasure I crave to offer her that her body responds exactly as it should.
Explosive.
Loud.
Pleased.
While she trembles with the painful orgasm I inflicted on her, I undo my pants. Her intense green eyes bore into mine.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” I rumble, my lips teasing over hers, as I rub the crown of my dick through her arousal that leaks from her pussy. “Fight off the monster, little captive. I want to hear you scream.”
Her eyes flash with a deviance that makes my dick jolt in appreciation before she lets loose a scream—heeding my command without question—that I can feel down to the marrow of my bones. It invigorates and excites me. Transforms me into the beast I work hard to keep at bay. I grip her flailing arms, shoving them above her head and grasping them with my strong hold. My other hand covers her loud mouth, stifling her screams.
I push my dick between her slick pussy lips, seeking entrance into her warm, tight body. With a brutal thrust of my hips, I tear through her body that barely accommodates my thickness. Her green eyes turn glassy with tears and the sob that wrenches from her is a pained one. I slide my palm away from her mouth, so I can punish her with a kiss.
She tastes like heaven—smoky and charred as I burn it to the fucking ground.
For a captive, her eager tongue duels with mine like she’s not a wrecked angel the devil has consumed for his own pleasure. She kisses me like we’re equals in a fucked-up game. Partners painfully finding pleasure in each other.
I bite her lip to remind her I’m the king of her world now.
A smile smeared with blood twists her plump lips up, making me think maybe I’m wrong.
“Saint,” she whines, “Saint.”
I rotate my hips, driving into her deeper and harder with each thrust. “Mmm, Tesoro?”
“I don’t want to escape.” Sincerity shines in her confused green eyes.
Reaching between us, I rub against her clit, enjoying the way her cunt clenches around my cock. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let you anyway.”
Her lashes flutter closed as she cries out, her body stealing her from me for an obliterating orgasm. My nuts seize up with pleasure, but rather than painting her stomach with my seed, I go against all sanity and fill her up with me.
It doesn’t matter.
The captive isn’t going anywhere.
Pulling out, I watch with smug satisfaction as cum runs out of her red, abused pussy, soaking the floor below her ass.
“Let’s get you dressed,” I murmur. “You’re going to help me torture that fuckface for answers.” I smear my fingers through my cum coating her thighs. “Consider it a reward for beautifully taking my big dick.”
She bites on her bottom lip, her green eyes unsure at first, but then she nods.
I’ll make a bad girl out of her yet.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Melody
Saint’s basement isn’t a typ
ical basement. It’s a torture chamber. As soon as we step over the threshold and one of his men, Roscoe, shuts the door behind me, I flinch. I expected to walk in and find a man strapped to a chair amongst other odds and ends, but not this. Sure, he is strapped to a chair, but along the walls are tools meant to inflict torture. The setup has been so carefully thought out in terms of space and mess.
If I’m being honest, I’m not quite sure how it makes me feel. The fact that he has a torture chamber, or the fact that he brought me down here to obviously spook me. He wants me afraid. He needs me afraid.
As I stare at the man bound and hog-tied to the chair, I know I should feel some ounce of remorse. I should feel sorry for him, or at the very least be disgusted with Saint. As I stand here, this intimidating man at my side, I realize I’m not.
I’ve spent most of my life feeling weak and insignificant, but beside Saint, I feel anything but weak. I suddenly feel empowered. Strong. Especially when the man in the chair glances up at me with pleading eyes. He reeks of the stench of fear.
And I feel absolutely no remorse.
The wound of my neck tingles with awareness as I stare down at him. My hands flutter to my bandaged neck and I work a thick swallow, remembering the way the blade sliced into my skin, the way it felt when my warm blood trickled down my neck. The metallic tang hanging heavy in the air.
When his knife was pressed to my throat, I thought I was going to die. It felt like I was watching my entire life flash before me, and I had nothing to show for my eighteen years. I’ve had no real-life experiences, I’ve been deprived of love, but most of all, it occurred to me that the day I was taken from the carnival was the first day I truly started living.
I’ve felt more in my time here with Saint than I have my entire life that I was trapped in that house.
I absently smooth my palm over the material of my dress. The same dress I wore the night he took me. After having been denied clothes for so long, it almost feels strange having to wear it. I’d been shocked when he handed the laundered garment and told me to put it on before we came downstairs to the basement. It’s just another testament to how I’m no longer the me I once was. In the time I’ve been here, I’ve morphed into someone else.
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