Arson’s Captive

by Mason , V. F.

  His lips travel back up again, nipping on my collarbone before he resumes his path to my neck and the underside of my chin. At each stop, he gives me another harsh suckle, probably leaving hickeys all over me, so everyone will know who I belong to.

  Marcello once wanted to do it to me, promising me all kinds of pain attached to it, but right in this booth, I feel nothing but pleasure… and need.

  So much need that I’m not sure what I have to do to soothe it.

  He tugs my head forward, so our mouths are on the same level and our breaths mingle together; my heart beats so wildly I hear it in my ears while Arson’s eyes flash with something dangerous, their gray almost becoming liquid steel. “Kiss me, belosnejka.” His voice is husky and raspy, almost calling to something within me to obey him even though my mind rebels against the idea.

  Maybe because taking this step will be my undoing.

  But try as I might, I can’t resist and, with an exhale, place my mouth on his, pressing my lips to his, sending a tremor through me at the contact, enjoying how they rub over mine. They are so soft even though he is hard all over.

  I lean back, touching my lips, and my cheeks flush when I realize I’ve just had my first kiss, with a serial killer no less.

  But the worst part is that all I want to say is… that’s it?

  That’s the kiss people go crazy about, and I’ve seen several couples back in “heaven.” Women smiled stupidly over them, but as gentle as this was… his other touches were far more exciting.

  Arson chuckles, snapping me out of my musing. “Have you kissed someone before, Chloe?”

  I shake my head before I can stop myself, hating to give him this power, but what’s the point of lying anyway?

  Possessiveness flashes in his eyes, and he fists my hair harder when his mouth is again inches apart from mine. “Let me teach you, then.” He nips on my lips, trapping the lower one between his teeth and gently pulling it, and my eyes close, while the now familiar burning spreads through me, the haze slowly enveloping me in its embrace.

  His thumb slides to my chin, pressing on it until my mouth opens. He slips his tongue inside, brushing over the inside of my mouth, seeking mine, and I gasp, giving him access to me, and moan when our tongues entwine together, my body jerking at the contact.

  His kiss is gentle, slow, and all-consuming, yet still hard, as if he is trying to forever imprint himself in my brain, so I’ll never be able to forget him or wipe away this memory.

  My nails dig into his shoulders, while I push myself to him, deeper, and tentatively follow his lead, kissing him with all the enthusiasm I possess. The electricity traveling all over my body and pounding between my legs makes me shift a little, brushing my core against his… his hard-on?

  I gulp for breath when he lets me go only to guide himself back inside me, swallowing my groan of protests, but for whose benefit, I don’t know.

  My body craves him like nothing else in this world, and I no longer have the power to object to its desires, only needing for him to end this suffering that boils my blood and demands something from him that only he is capable of giving me.

  This time, the kiss is different; it’s deep, hot, and hard, with him yanking on my hair as his mouth devours mine, spreading shivers all over me while his tongue holds mine prisoner, playing with it for forever it seems, while his other hand slides lower until it reaches my thigh. His finger dips under the dress, burning my skin, and I gasp against him while he growls, biting on my lips once again.

  “How do you like the color gray, my beautiful captive?” he murmurs in my ear, sucking on my earlobe as I jerk when his knuckles brush aside my panties, and then his finger caresses my most sensitive part, making me freeze on top of him.

  But not from fear or shock, as none of those things even cross my mind.

  I still, because the onslaught of emotions hit me all at once, and before my actions register in my mind, I put my hand above his, pressing it harder, wanting him to end this torture that breaks me out in a sweat and confuses me to no end, making me nothing but a helpless female in his arms.

  “Arson, please,” I whisper, my voice so husky I don’t even recognize it.

  His finger slides up and down my lower lips, the wetness in me probably coating his fingers, but I don’t care.

  I don’t care about anything as he continues to touch me, bringing me new and more vivid sensations that power my system like nothing else.

  “Oh, I think you like it, darling. Welcome to the gray side of the world.” With that, he slips his finger inside me, his hand cupping my core while his mouth captures mine again, swallowing all the loud moans threatening to erupt from me.

  Every brush of his tongue and finger nip on my every nerve, spreading pleasure all over me with such speed I’m afraid I might pass out from it. The heel of his palm presses on my clit, only enhancing the sensations that rock all over me, making me crave his finger to go deeper and deeper, bringing me closer and closer to a high that seems almost unreachable.

  In this moment, nothing exists but this man who has absolute power over my body that seeks him like an addict for its next fix, but even that might not be enough.

  I steady myself again, not wanting to lose this friction he creates, but Arson needs no guidance. He works in tandem so well, dominating my mouth with his tongue swirling inside me, tangling with mine and sucking on it hard, giving me no choice but to shift closer, clamping around him while his finger delves deeper, almost giving me this sensation I’m on the brink of….

  The clearing of a throat snaps me out of the haze, and my burning lungs demand oxygen I can no longer deny them. I pull away, gulping for breath while Arson’s hands steady me.

  I touch my lips. They burn from the kisses while Arson’s eyes become so deep I think I could drown in them.

  My whole body buzzes with anticipation. The desire to grind on him so I find some kind of relief is so great I barely hold it in, but he must read it on my face.

  He presses me closer to him and bites on my lower lip, pulling it down, muttering something incoherent in another language and sending awareness once again through me, while my hands fist, because I can’t touch him.

  If I do, I won’t be able to stop. “Don’t even think about it.” The vibration from his voice sinks into every bone while he licks the sting from my lips, nipping on my chin and stroking his hand on my hip up and down, as if reassuring me, but all it does is ignite the fire inside me. “I don’t mind kissing and touching you with everyone watching, but sure as fuck, no one is going to see you naked. Or hear your groans of pleasure.”

  “Arson,” I beg, needing him to do something. He can’t leave me hanging like this when I let go of all my moral principles, and now he is refusing—

  “I’m just gonna put it here.” The embarrassed voice reminds me of what stopped our kiss in the first place, and finally the desire vanishes from me quickly, when I realize a waiter brought my order.

  Groaning, I hide my head in the crook of Arson’s shoulder and neck, too shy to meet anyone’s stare.

  “Since she ordered all the flavors, we decided to put them on three plates, instead of eighteen.”

  Eighteen?

  Oh My God!

  I hear clinking of the plates for several seconds before the guy says, “If you need anything, let us know.” And by the click of his shoes against the marble, it’s not hard to guess he almost ran off.

  “When you go all in, you go all in, don’t you, my captive?” Arson muses, laughter in his voice, and I finally lean back to face him, my cheeks burning.

  “I didn’t know it was eighteen flavors.” I manage to peek a little into the audience, hoping no one pays attention to us, but there is no such luck.

  Since the performers haven’t started yet, the light is fully on, which means everyone’s gaze is on us.

  I look at a table of women, who give me a thumbs-up and even lift their glasses in cheers, like my public display of affection should be anything to be pro
ud of!

  Public display of affection with a serial killer.

  “I need to sit down,” I say, horrified now with what I let transpire between us, forgetting who he really is.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  He lifts me up and over, and I scoot away in the booth, focusing on the three plates with six scoops on each one. I pick up the spoon, not even looking at Arson, but I can feel his stare on me.

  “Think about the color gray,” he says, and I dig my spoon in the chocolate scoop, staying silent. “It’s sure as fuck more fun than the black and white world of yours.” And with that, he gets up, walking off somewhere while I’m left alone dwelling on my thoughts.

  The gray.

  My body begs for his touch, my mind resists his captivity, yet the man himself draws me to him, like a moth to a flame. It knows it will get burned and die, but it’s too mesmerized with the flame to listen to caution.

  The feminine part of me wishes with all her heart to ignore all the warnings and just live for myself this once, experience something so profound in his arms that I’m sure not every man can give to me.

  But he is a serial killer.

  And as such, there is no color gray for me to admire.

  Arson

  I walk toward the booth on the opposite side of mine while waitresses pass me by with heavy trays, everyone running around hectically, because Mia’s show starts in about ten minutes.

  I grin remembering Chloe’s jealousy over the dancer, with whom I was never involved, her cheeks heating up and emerald eyes shining dangerously if I as much as confirmed her suspicions.

  My body is still buzzing from kissing her; I’ve never felt anything like this before in my life. Part of me barely restrained myself from propping her on that table and tasting her sweetness on my tongue, making her come for everyone to see.

  And know who she belongs to.

  But the other part of me, viciously possessive of her and everything that has to do with her, snarls at the idea of other men watching her and imagining what it is like to be between her splayed thighs.

  Chloe, my beautiful captive, is mine and only mine.

  Whoever decides to touch her, or even think about her… I’ll kill him with my bare hands.

  Nobody takes away what belongs to me.

  Not anymore.

  The minute I stop in front of the table, I notice the chessboard right in the middle of the table while two men sit on each side, making two by two plays it seems and not caring much that rules dictate otherwise.

  Right in the middle of the booth sits Callum, watching them with boredom evident while he sips his whiskey. He is wearing a red sweater, a leather jacket, and I just bet jeans.

  Since he’s not into the game, and who fucking would be when the players like to change rules all the fucking time, he spots me first and raises his glass toward me. “Arson.”

  Four heads swing collectively in my direction, identical grins appearing on their faces although their gazes stay stone-cold.

  The Four Dark Horsemen.

  Four deadly men who don’t know words like remorse, sanity, mercy, compassion. They see whatever they want, take it, and then destroy it.

  Santiago, Octavius, Remi, Florian.

  One might expect nothing short of the apocalypse when they are in town, creating—wherever they go—one thing they’ve mastered through the years.

  Chaos and more chaos.

  Even with them doing nothing but sitting together, only one energy radiates from them, and it’s power, power, power.

  “You took your sweet time greeting us,” Remi says, twirling his glass on the table. “You must be really enamored with your captive.”

  Leaning back in the booth, I rub my chin as if contemplating his words, even though inside I want to snap his neck.

  Rules and alliances and all that bullshit stop me of course, but it doesn’t mean I have to be nice. “You should know. How many years has it been for you? Three, four, five? Hard to keep track.” The glass in his hand shatters, sending shards flying all over the table, but everyone stays frozen.

  Remi’s violet eyes promise me retribution, and he makes a move to stand, but Octavius’s arm stops him. “Enough.”

  My brows rise when he actually listens to him and focuses back on the game, but then Remi has shown a great amount of strength in the past years. Lachlan still doesn’t give a shit though and won’t give him Amalia, one of his proteges who has been so deeply traumatized by her past I’m not sure she is sane.

  So the war continues with no winner in sight, although I suspect it might blow into epic proportions once Amalia is back from France.

  Devil help us all then.

  “Arson, we are not here to argue,” Florian says, shifting a knight on the chessboard before raising his gaze back to me, as always, with an unreadable expression on his face.

  He has the same expression when he throws people to the bayou, listening to their cries of torment when alligators eat them. Ironically, I consider him the only levelheaded one among all the Four Dark Horsemen.

  “Why are you here, then?” This question I address to Callum and Santiago, who share a look between each other before shrugging.

  I’d never fucking call us friends; I’m not sure the term could ever exist between serial killers, and besides, we never do what it entails anyway. But besides Lachlan, they are the only two who… let’s say know more than they should, and in this, it should make us semi-close.

  The key word here being should, but it doesn’t, yet both of them think they have the right to meddle in my business.

  Santiago finally speaks up. “We visited New York and thought about stopping by. There is no law that prevents us from it, is there?” There is a challenge in his voice, and the tension around the table slowly rises, almost tangible in the air, and if anyone so much as breathes wrong, the consequences might be severe.

  But then again, I was never one to be afraid of danger, and they are in my fucking city. “You tell me. I don’t need babysitters. I thought I made that clear.”

  Santiago sighs, placing his hand on his chest and whimpering dramatically. “Here I hoped for a job!” Callum chuckles while the rest of the horsemen continue to play. “In all seriousness, I have new information for you.”

  “Which is?”

  He picks up a white envelope with a bright golden letter printed across it and throws it at me. “It’s an invitation to the annual ball in four days.”

  “Oh, you need a date. Sorry, I have to refuse,” I reply, and this time even Florian grins, albeit still sipping his drink.

  Why the fuck would I need this invitation anyway? I can get in wherever I want, thanks to my reputation and connections. Not to mention I share Lachlan’s name, and according to the paperwork, I’m his brother.

  The most luxurious places in New York, the elite of the elite, will welcome me with open arms, hoping I’ll grace their events with my presence.

  “He will be there, an honorary guest.”

  I freeze, fury fueling my blood while my fists on instinct want to beat the shit out of him.

  “I suppose your decoy will work great, since he fucks only blondes. He’ll be enamored with her, as Remi so eloquently put it.”

  “Which means,” Callum pitches in, ignoring the curious stare of the four dark, “it’s almost over.”

  Except this is no longer what I wish for.

  I might have planned to use Chloe in my greater plan to lure him from his shadows, presenting him with something he’d want so badly he’d become obsessed with it… so when I took it away from him he’d know one of the greatest miseries on earth right before I tortured him for hours for what he had done to me.

  But now…

  Somewhere along the way—or maybe from the very beginning, because that’s the only explanation I have on being bewitched by her from the first glance—I decided to keep Chloe with me.

  He won’t be looking at her, wanting her, or ever smear her innocence w
ith his thoughts.

  She is the one bright thing in my life that I have, and no darkness will tarnish her.

  No darkness but my own.

  Chloe signed herself a life sentence when she showed up in that field, forever becoming mine. And her first kiss with me forever sealed her fate, connecting us in a way nothing else could.

  A princess trapped in an ivory tower with the knight who came to slay the dragon, only to show he is a dark knight capable of murdering anyone and anything.

  No one will take her away.

  And sure as fuck not him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Family is everything, they say.

  They love you the most, they say.

  They haven’t met mine, I say.”

  Arson

  Arson, 7 years old

  “Artem, baby, pick up your toys. You know Johnny doesn’t like them,” Parker says, turning around to face me as she wraps another curl of hair around the iron, holding it above her head. “You have five minutes to clean it up.” Her eyes narrow for a fraction of a second, and my heart stills, awaiting her next response, but she smiles, sending me a wink. “If he pays me well tonight, we might even buy you some chocolate.”

  At the mention of food, my stomach growls loudly and I rub it a little, hoping the sucking pain always present at this hour will go away and won’t bother me much like the last time.

  I suffered for days before Parker bought me a bun, huffing all the way how much money she wastes on me.

  Jumping from the bed in the small room we live in that has only a sitting chair, a table with a mirror, and a small fridge on the side, I quickly put all my colorful pencils inside the plastic bag along with my thick album. Spotting my teddy bear under the pillow, I snatch it out too, quickly hiding it among the rest.

  They’re all the toys I have here, and I found those in the dumpster a few weeks back when I searched for food, before Parker found me there, brought me back to the room, and beat me harshly with the belt.