Lucian’s Reign: A Billionaire Romance

“Open your gorgeous eyes, mi amor.

See me.

Feel me.

Recognize me.

But more importantly,

desire me.”

Lucian

From Evangeline’s Diary…

How does a person look with a broken heart, shattered into tiny little pieces, scattered all over the world to the point the person will never be whole again?

Does my hollow reflection in the mirror—red eyes with dark bags under them, much-skinnier body, my greasy hair shining under the light—match the description?

Tears fall on the paper as the harsh wind whooshes inside from the open door and skirts around my form bringing coldness with it.

Although it can never compare to the one residing in my soul right now as I sit on my mother’s bed, wrapped in her blanket to feel her scent washing over me.

As long as I still can.

Until it won’t, vanishing to become nothing but a fleeting memory in time.

Esme lies next to me on the bed, whispering something in her sleep before scooting closer to me but burrowing her head in Mom’s pillow, seeking her warmth.

Warmth neither of us will ever feel again, because her cold, lifeless body is buried several feet underground.

A sob slips past my lips, threatening to erupt in whimpers, while my legs urge me to run back to the cemetery, dig up her grave, and shake her body until she opens her eyes and tells me all of this was a mistake.

A sick joke created by destiny to open my eyes to the world around me and cherish her instead of throwing angry jabs at her.

I wish… I so wish… someone would enter our house right now and tell me my mother is not dead.

Give me hope, tell me it was a mistake, convince me that what I witnessed after coming back from Hawaii was just a nightmare.

But they can’t.

Because destiny has been cruel to me in a way I never anticipated.

The memory of that day is still so fresh in my mind.

Happiness spread in my chest along with nervousness as my prince urged me to discuss with my mom why she dislikes him so much and not leave the house angry. He wanted to start our lives together untainted by my sorrow, craving to give me love and family, because deep down, he understood I would never be able to choose.

I inserted the key into the door, twisted the knob, and entered. Instantly, the disgusting smell of rotten flesh penetrated my nostrils, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Frowning, I stepped inside, shouting, “Mom, Esme. I’m home.” However, no reply came, and I looked around the house, not finding anything out of order. Although it surprised me that Mom wasn’t awake yet. Even the coffee pot wasn’t brewing.

Shrugging it off to her day off, I dropped the luggage by the stairs and quickly went to the second floor, shouting again, “Mom!” I knocked on the door to her room, but no reply came, so I opened it anyway, only to find it empty.

With uneasiness rushing through me, I marched toward Esme’s door and entered only to stop dead in my tracks, my gaze glued to the floor where my mother lay.

In a pool of dried blood with flies circling over her as she looked at the ceiling, fear etching her features. Her throat was sliced so deep it was a wonder her head stayed attached to her body.

Her dress was torn to shreds, various knife wounds on her stomach while her arm was twisted in a weird way.

A scream echoed in the space, and it took me a minute to realize it was coming from me. I dropped to my knees, crying and shouting, “Mom!” But going to her seemed impossible, and by the smell, I understood it must have happened days ago.

My mind still refused to accept this reality, madness slowly sinking into me, so I latched on to the only thing keeping me sane. “Esme!” I screamed, almost tearing my throat. “Esme!”

Stepping around my mom’s body, still shaking my head at it, and holding back the bile in my throat demanding to end up expelled at my feet, I searched under the bed and the pile of blankets, finding them empty. “Esme!”

Panic enveloped me, more gory pictures painted in my mind, while I hectically tried to find her. I rushed into the hall and continued screaming. “Esme!”

Failing to locate her upstairs, I ran down the stairs, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight.

And then I heard it.

A slight humming like chanting was coming from the kitchen, and I darted there, opening the cabinet under the sink to find Esme sitting there rocking back and forth, her pajamas smeared in blood while a yellow pool surrounded her. She hid her face in her knees. “Esme,” I whispered, but she wouldn’t react, just rocking and chanting words.

Words that took a second to make sense. “Run, Esme, run. Run, Esme, run. Run, Esme, run.” She repeated them over and over again as if possessed.

“Baby, come here,” I said, forcibly dragging her out as she struggled in my hold, now screaming, “Run, Esme, run!”

Circling my arms around her, I pressed her to my chest, and said, “It’s okay, baby. I’m here.”

“Run, Esme!” she screamed, and it turned into a loud sob as she cried her heart out, while my own tears fell on her because my dead mother lay upstairs, and my sister must have witnessed the whole thing.

“Shhhh, baby.” Swaying her slightly in my arms, I tried to calm her, when my prince came to the house, probably worried by my disappearance in here, and it took him a second to take the whole thing in.

Everything that happened after, I remember in a blur.

Police arrived along with a shrink for Esme, who refused to talk and couldn’t tell them a thing.

How neighbors gathered outside, but no one saw anything.

Nothing had been stolen, and everything was in perfect order, so they assumed my mother must have known the intruder.

None of the theories they came up with lasted long, as all the evidence disputed it, so that’s why Esme was considered the key to uncovering it all.

Only she locked her lips forever it seems, because she hasn’t said a word since.

The funeral happened shortly after. My prince paid for it all, and ironically, the day has been so sunny, the birds themselves chirping during the service as if mocking us for our sorrow.

How can people and the world still function the same when everything I knew is destroyed?

We lived in his house temporarily, because staying here… at the crime scene… I just couldn’t.

But like today and every day since the tragedy happened… we came here to feel Mom.

God, how is it possible to live with such pain? To know you can’t call her, talk to her, hug her, feel her warmth again? Live in a world where your mother doesn’t breathe or live or laugh?

They say we can stay children as long as our parents are alive, and I never understood how true this statement rang.

Now, we’re orphans.

Esme stirs next to me, muttering, “Run, Esme,” before falling back asleep. Heaviness blankets my heart, reminding me about her trauma and how much needs to be done for her.

Which brings me to this entry really, because the letter from my grandmother sits next to me.

The woman who despised my mother’s every breath and acted as if she no longer had a son… wants to take Esme in.

Give her the family name, power, education, necessary psychological help.

The insurance will just cover the house. Mom still had several years to pay off the mortgage on it, and we have no savings to speak off.

I have two more years in college, and while according to the law I can be her legal guardian, I don’t have anything to offer her.

Grandmother is asking nicely right now, but if she puts her mind to it and involves the authorities, she will easily win this fight and take her away from me.

She might even forbid me seeing her out of spite should this whole situation turn sour.

My prince laughs at the notion and proposes marriage instead, claiming that his money will allow for comfortable living for us all, and that my grandmother won’t be able to do shit.

He is very insistent on it, strangely, which should make my heart flutter, but instead… it just confuses it.

Which has no logical explanation anyway.

However, I have to think about Esme and what Mom would have wanted.

After this nightmare, Esme deserves to have a peaceful life, hopefully speaking again soon and living her life despite the horrors imprinted in her brain.

My prince and I would love her unconditionally… but how sure am I about the stability of our relationship? Or that he won’t change his mind someday, and then where would it leave us with Esme? On the streets alone, struggling to survive?

Grandmother might be a bitch, but she will value Esme due to her talent, and if the stories Dad told about her are true, she would pay for all her classes and trips as long as she can show it off to the public.

I could also ensure she would spend the weekends with me in this, giving her the best of two worlds.

Mom once told me that being an older sibling means having a lot of responsibility, because we have to choose what’s best for the younger siblings and not for us.

We cannot be selfish, even if we want to.

My soul cries out at the prospect of not being near Esme again or make decisions about her life; she is everything I have left after my parents.

But her well-being matters more right now.

I hope I’m making the right decision.

And somewhere from above, our parents are watching over us, protecting us and guiding us on the right path.

Esmeralda

I hear the loud crack before a blast of heat blows over me, and Lucian laces his fingers with mine as he pulls me somewhere.

Huffing in annoyance, I tap on the blindfold, cautiously following him, unsure about my surroundings, and ask him, “Why did I have to wear this thing on the plane?”

I expected him to remove it from my head the minute he brought me on the metal bird, thinking maybe the surprise started here.

Aren’t movies full of such romantic scenarios?

But he sat me down on a comfortable leather chair and then dropped next to me while the flight attendant gave me a cold glass of orange juice.

Lucian put headphones over my head; rock music played during the entire flight, and whenever I wanted to voice my concerns, he told me to relax.

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t see my freaking glares at this weird behavior, and to my astonishment, I complied with the request that sounded more like an order, since I promised to trust him. And to be honest, deep down, excitement built inside me at the prospect of seeing his surprise.

My life has been an unshakable boat strangled by the shore, safe and sound from nature and its mood swings. Lucian’s presence became a storm that rocked the boat and towed it to the middle of the ocean… where anything could happen to it.

And just once, I want to stop being cautious and allow myself risks, especially on the day that should have always been special but became a painful reminder of my loneliness.

So instead of putting up a fight, I ended up falling asleep and awoke shortly after to the plane landing in Chicago. We must have reached it in record time!

Lucian pulls at our joined hands, and I speed up, my feet stepping on something that shakes.

Airplane steps.

Does he expect me to just descend blind? I love surprises, but not enough to break my neck for them!

A scream traps in my throat when I feel his hand on my back and then under my knees as he dips down and picks me up again. “Careful or I might get used to this,” I warn him, and his chest vibrates from laughter as he rubs his chin on my head before walking down the stairs, his shoes banging on it loudly. “This surprise better be huge!”

Maybe he’s taking me to a museum? They have amazing ones here.

Regardless of his plans, I’m not leaving Chicago without fully immersing myself in its artistic culture. Thank God for the small pockets in my dress where I always keep my credit cards in case I end up in questionable situations.

“Well, if a surprise doesn’t exceed your expectations, it can’t be a surprise arranged by me, can it?” Despite the evident smugness in his tone, I laugh at his confidence. He must take the last step, because his shoes no longer make a sound, and someone clears his throat.

The silk covering my eyes heightens my other senses, so even a fly buzzing around in the distance is picked up by my ears, and Lucian’s cologne tickles my nose, whispering wicked thoughts in my head.s

“Mr. Cortez. Welcome back.” A beat, and then, “Ma’am.”

“Thank you, George.”

I greet him back. “Hi!” Lucian puts me on the ground and unties the blindfold, making me blink several times as white dots appear in front of me. Finally, my vision clears, and I see a man around my age smiling at me. He’s wearing a driver’s uniform, and a hat covers his hair. “It’s nice to meet you, George.”

“Likewise, ma’am.” He opens the door to the black car, and Lucian leans into me, leaving me no choice but to climb inside as he follows.

Settling on the leather seat, I rest my head back, welcoming the air conditioning that’s saving me from the heat outside, and cross my ankles in the spacious backseat.

Looking around, I expect something to pop up around me, but nothing hints at a gift awaiting me here or giving me a clue where we might go.

Unless…

My cheeks heat up, thinking of what we could possibly do here right now, and Lucian’s husky voice pulls me back to the present. “Wicked thoughts should be forbidden for you. They are written all over your face.”

Ironing out the hem of my skirt with my hands, I turn my head to him, and say, “You have no one but yourself to blame. You’ve corrupted me.” A mocking gasp escapes him. “No surprise in the car? I’m starting to wonder if maybe you just lied to me to get the goods.” I slide my fingers over my skirt, slightly raising it up my legs, and his gaze lands there, his brown eyes darkening. “If your surprise is sex and finally succumbing to my advances, I’m in.”

He puts his palm over mine, stilling my movements. “Trust me, sex would never be a surprise in our relationship but a frequent occurrence. I don’t need to have a special occasion to fuck you.”

Ugh, the man needs to stop saying stuff like this, because it drives me even more insane, wanting to finally discover the pleasure of the flesh rather than for it to be alluded to in a future that’s not even certain.

Pouting, I sigh. “It shouldn’t be so hard to seduce a charming asshole.” He frowns at the title, causing a laugh to burst from me, because he hates it whenever I mention this little tidbit, finding it highly inaccurate, but I love to tease him about it anyway.

He grips my hand, shifting me forward so he can slip his arm between the cushion and my back, bringing me closer to his chest. “Answering your previous question, I know how much you hate flying, so I wanted to make it easier for you. The blindfold made you focus and curious about what was to come, instead of frightened.” My betraying heart melts after this explanation, clenching so hard inside my chest before galloping again, while an emotion settles in my soul that’s so foreign to me.

Because for the first time in a very long while, someone is worried about me so much they tried to ease my discomfort instead of claiming I should just get over it or dismiss it all together.

And his plan worked, right?

Because not once did I think about jumping out of the plane or restlessly walking around. Usually, I’d take sleeping pills and ask the flight attendant to wake me up when we land; however, here, it was different.

“How did you know?” I ask, placing my head on his shoulder while his hand slides up and down my thigh in a soothing motion.

He presses on some button next to him, and the screen separating us from George opens as he pulls the car from the airport and drives, speeding up the farther we go. “George.” He just calls his name, and the driver immediately presses a few buttons next to him, and at once, all the windows lower when the sunroof slides open, making the clear sky above show for us, creating an illusion of free space.

The wind swirls around us, sending my hair flying in different directions, and some of it even hits Lucian in the face. George has to remove his hat, because it keeps sliding forward.

And although the freezing air of AC was better than the current situation, the fact that no walls block the outside world makes me exhale heavily, calming the familiar distress present in me.

“You always push into the far corner inside a car or hold on to me tight while glancing at my wristwatch as if counting how many more minutes it’ll take to drive. And I’ve noticed you left the studio when you were completely exhausted so you wouldn’t have enough energy to panic in the cab.” He traps my chin between his thumb and finger, caressing my skin while holding my gaze. “Do you want to tell me why enclosed spaces make you scared?” I open my mouth to use my usual excuse, but his finger on my lips stops me. “You can hide in your studio or house, so it’s not really enclosed space, but moving enclosed spaces…” He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Why?”

The car gets on a highway, the speed increasing as we pass several buildings and houses but mostly just trees as everything moves in a blur, hardly letting me study anything about the city.

Lucian, pinches my chin a little and snaps my attention back to him, prompting, “Gatita.”

Swallowing hard, because I’ve never shared this information before, I can’t deny him an answer when he has gone out of his way to make it all so comfortable for me.

And in truth… I don’t want to; the burden of carrying it alone weighs on me so heavily, isolating me in fear and confusion from everyone, even him.

Maybe if he knows more about me, he will be more understanding about my refusal to marry him and display more patience at giving us a chance.

A chance at what?

I’m already in a deep state of denial.

“If something happens at the studio, gallery, or my home, I can easily run away somewhere,” I whisper, my hand fisting his shirt while thousands of evil memories slam into me, threatening to pull me into their vortex if I don’t hold on to him. “But in a car, plane, or train, I’m trapped until it stops. I cannot leave whenever I wish. I have to sit my ass still and wait, wait, wait.” Tears form in my eyes as I scrunch them tight. “There is no escape.”

“The car can stop if you tell the driver,” he speaks up gently, his thumb continuing to caress me, while his arm cages me in his embraces, creating a protective cocoon around me.

“Still, the power lies with a driver, right?”

“Did someone hurt you in the past, gatita?” Although his voice stays the same, his body under me tenses a little while danger dances on the edges of his tone.

Run, Esme, run.

The memories are too raw to ever share them with anyone, even Lucian. Besides, who would want to hear the gory details of the nightmares that won’t let me sleep, even ten years later?

Darkness and evilness are like dirt, smearing you in something hideous and disgusting that doesn’t wash away no matter what you do.

No matter where you go, you carry it with you.

“Once upon a time, I had to sit in a very enclosed space for four days.”

He pauses, touching me while his arm tightens around me, probably pondering the information I’ve just given him. Even without more elaboration, it’s clear I didn’t do it of my own free will.

Heavy boots walk around the living room, creaking the wood under them, while his voice drops down to almost gentle, although his gloved hand still flips the knife dripping blood on the floor back and forth. “Come out of hiding, Esmeralda.” Breathing into my knees while my fists clench, I see the man through a small hole in the cabinet door. “Come out, little darling.” He licks the blood from the steel and groans loudly, making me want to barf all over my knees, and I barely swallow it back. “Ah, divine. I bet your blood will be as good.” He moves toward the couch, throwing away the pillows, and peers underneath it, looking for me, then goes to the fireplace. “Where did you go, little girl?” He licks his knife again before stabbing it hard on our small table, where it dangles. My body jerks at this, but I roll my lips tighter, not daring to make a sound.

Fear envelops me, slipping into every bone in my body, while my hands shake and Mommy’s blood soaks my pajamas, reminding me about her lying on the floor in my room.

Tears slide down my cheeks as sobs shake me, but I stay quiet, listening to her screamed words.

To run so he wouldn’t find me, but I didn’t have enough time to slip outside, so I chose the place under the sink. Mom always said people assumed it doesn’t open because it has no handles.

I have to just wait until he leaves. And then I can call nine-one-one, and police will come so they can help Mommy.

Monster.

A man who came inside our house in the middle of the night is a monster who must have arrived here straight from hell.

A monster who has no face as he wears a black mask from which only his lips, nose, and eyes are visible, but even those are covered by the sunglasses he wears despite the darkness inside the house, lit up only by the moonlight.

“Esme, darling. Come out. Let’s play.” He strolls to the kitchen, and my heart stops, only to beat again when he opens the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of milk and gulping it before wiping his mouth. “Where did that little shit go?” he asks himself, looking around the room, and rests his arm on the fridge. “My creation won’t be complete without her.” He sits on the chair and drums his fingers on the table before picking up a remote and turning the TV on. “You won’t be able to hide forever, darling.”

And he stays.

On the first day, he eats and sleeps while periodically watching the TV or listening to the radio.

On the second day, he continues to search for me, screaming my name and threatening to cut me limb by limb if I don’t come out of hiding instead of just shooting a bullet through my head.

On the third day, he writes something furiously in his notebook, all while chanting about the stupidity of it all and how he is never good enough for anyone, even this fucked-up family that consists of nothing but whores.

All while the disgusting smells inside the house grow, alerting me to the fact that my mom still lies upstairs with no help for her while the monster becomes more restless, cutting himself up and promising me all kinds of torture for daring to reject him too when he has never done anything bad to me.

On day four, he finally gives up, because he cleans up all the mess, placing everything in the same position as before while wiping away his fingerprints and using so much bleach that by the time he’s done, no one will ever guess he has been inside the house.

Lucian’s knuckles sweep under my eyes, and only then I realize the tears escaped after all… despite my best efforts. Raising my gaze to his, I blink in shock at the deadly look they have, almost predator-like, ready to sink his claws into whoever is deserving of his rage. I’ve never seen him be this angry, yet his touch stays gentle. “No one will ever hurt you again, Esmeralda. I promise you that.”

Too grateful for his silent support, I just burrow my head into his chest and then study the environment around me, sitting up straight when we end up on a narrow road leading to massive iron gates in the distance. “You live so close to the airport?”

He laughs, some tension easing out of him. “We’ve been on the road for thirty minutes.” That long? God, the man truly has some magic powers to make time fly in his presence. “I live on the outskirts of the city, preferring to stay away from the center.” Clearly reading my question on my face, he elaborates. “I stay away from large crowds unless absolutely necessarily.”

“Why? Do you have some dark secrets?” I joke, and laughter flashes in his orbs, and to my surprise, even George chuckles, both of them finding my statement amusing.

I don’t have time to dwell on it much though as we drive up to the gates where two security men are located, and one of them comes forward, saluting George and nodding at Lucian before whistling to whoever operates the gates.

“Derek. He’s head of security.”

Although I’ve grown up in luxury half my life and have been to various high society houses, I don’t think I have met people who need a head of security to protect their land or the people inside.

Oddly enough, the protectiveness and carefulness toward his safety that Lucian shows only spreads warmth inside me and puts a lid on the fears, because could anyone ever really get into this place?

Straightening up on my seat, I focus all my attention on my surroundings as black iron gates slide open, revealing a narrow asphalt road surrounded by emerald-green grass glistening under the orangish-yellow light as the sunset slowly creeps in on us.

As we get farther inside the property line, an empty garden comes into view. I see several oak trees along with small rose bushes scattered all over the place; they take away from what could be a magical land one could get lost in for hours, if only someone had put effort into showing it some love.

Several alcoves dot the place, various flowers growing from the walls. Their condition speaks about their old age, and although that atmosphere would be perfect to read a book in, I feel like renovations would improve it.

I also see a greenhouse in the distance, or rather what will probably be one in a few years, since people are working on it, putting glassed walls around the edges, and others are dragging heavy sacks and pots inside.

My brows furrow at this.. Lucian never mentioned his love for plants, but then maybe that’s how he got his hands on all the rare flowers he brought me? “You collect flowers? Is gardening one of your hobbies?”

“Hardly, gatita.”

“Then why the greenhouse?”

“Because you love it, and I figured you’d want one of those once we get married.”

My jaw drops at this, and I shake my head, not sure whether to be annoyed or pleased by his confidence and the lengths he will go to prepare his family mansion for my arrival.

He is right of course. If one has this much land, how could he or she not devote their time to doing something with it to create endless beauty from what nature has to offer?

There are also two glass enclosures with canvases and various paints inside, and even a chair. They glisten so brightly it announces to the whole world they were just built as well. “You love to paint in the darkness, but maybe someday you’ll find peace in the light too,” he whispers in my ear, tickling my skin. “Besides, I think once you work magic on this garden, you might find it more appealing than your studio.”

The man is truly perfect, isn’t he?

When God created him, he probably thought he would have no flaws, and how I can possibly still resist him this long is beyond me.

Shaking my head at him, I leave it without a reply and gasp. Right in the middle sits a huge, Victorian-style house made out of brick with roses climbing the walls, adding to the overall mysterious and closed-off aura this place possesses.

It has three levels and countless rooms, judging by the windows; marble stairs lead to the double brown doors glistening in the sunlight from where a man in his late sixties emerges. He wears butler attire and races downstairs, his jacket flapping back while a smile rests on his mouth.

George pulls the car up by the steps, and the man immediately opens the door and bows to Lucian. “Señor.” Although he utters the word, a stern expression sent his boss’s way makes me think the man hardly listens to all the orders or obeys them very much. Compared to most butlers I’ve seen, he has no fear nor a rigid posture, indicating to me that wherever he works, he’s comfortable at it. “Welcome home.”

Lucian gets out, slaps the man on the shoulder, and says dryly, “I highly doubt that, Harold.” The man huffs at his words and then shifts his attention to me, extending his hand. “Welcome, miss. Happy birthday.”

“Oh, thank you.” My sandals hit the asphalt, and Harold pulls me forward while the energy around me washes over me, screaming only one word at me.

Power.

As if the entire generation of Cortez lineage designed this mansion to send intimidation and fear through any person who decided to step on their land, to let everyone know in advance that they will never play by anyone’s rules but their own.

George drives ahead while Lucian addresses Harold. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes.”

Lucian grips my hand, tangling our fingers together before hauling me around the mansion in a different direction from the front garden. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Yeah, my grandfather sure loved his prestige.” Mocking fills his tone, and when I say nothing, he continues. “He built this place with the hope of the family name prospering into a large dynasty.”

I frown at this. “I thought this land belonged to your family longer?”

“It did, but the house was unlivable, so my grandfather just smashed it. According to him, what doesn’t represent wealth will always be destroyed.” A hollow chuckle slips past his lips. “Joke’s on him that all this”—he swirls his finger in the air—“was inherited by his bastard grandson who at one point he refused to accept.”

Yeah, I suppose the grandfather who cared this much about his prestige would have preferred a perfect marriage with connections rather than… whatever happened in the past.

As we continue to walk ahead, the house still blocks most of the view. “Grandparents can be difficult at times.” These words probably don’t really soothe whatever pain he feels from the rejection he must have faced in the past, but maybe they’ll decrease the inferno still raging in his soul a little bit. “Were they awful to you?” Since Grandmother did business with the Cortez patriarch in the past, I know he was alive until I was around twelve. He lived longer than his own son, who passed away when Lucian was eighteen.

Sadly, his dynasty plans didn’t come to fruition, considering each generation so far only had one son, unless Lucian plans to change the pattern.

My stomach flutters thinking about dark-haired babies running around this magnificent yet deadly place, bringing life, laughter, and happiness to it.

“No. They weren’t awful or good. They were the results of their upbringing. And I was a result of mine. So based on that, we could never understand each other.”

“It doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” My grandmother never understood me, and although I came up with thousands of excuses to justify her treatment of me and her children because we didn’t fit into the box she designed for us… my heart still ached at her distance and actions.

A child always feels when he or she is unloved, and someday he or she will either retaliate in the most vicious way or disappear, never to come back again.

Lucian might be tougher than the rest, but even his heart cannot be invincible to scars carelessly left behind by his family.

“Trust me, gatita, they wouldn’t have been able to hurt me if they tried.” Something laces his words, a hideous secret behind which all the answers to the questions swirling about his past rest. What happened to him that he was accepted into the fold at the age of fourteen? “We’re here.” He announces, and I decide to dwell on this particular thought later.

As we round the building, the asphalt ends and opens up to a view of the garden secluded from prying eyes. A round table with a red cloth stands with two chairs opposite each other.

Letting go of his hand, I step on the grass, which tickles my toes through the sandals, and go closer, noticing how various snacks are placed on it.

Candies. Cheese. Strawberries. Cookies.

Even marshmallows!

Two champagne glasses glint brightly, the pale-yellow liquid bubbling inside the crystal, and I grab one, shaking it a little as Lucian reaches me. “This was your surprise?” I sweep my hand over the table. “Dinner in Chicago?” Waiting a bit, I add, “We could have done that in New York.” Although there are no regrets in coming here, after all, he was so sweet on the way, and maybe he felt more comfortable organizing something like this here, away from the people who might interrupt us.

“It’s part of a surprise,” he replies mysteriously, which only sparks my curiosity. Then he grips a chair, pulls it back, and motions for me to sit down.

“You’re a hard nut to crack, Lucian Cortez.” I huff, sitting on the cushion and snatching a strawberry.

Settling on the other chair, he grabs his own glass. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Esmeralda Hugh.” My laughter echoes in the evening, and he winks at me. “Happy birthday, gatita.” He toasts me with his glass, and I extend mine so they clink against each other, and we both take a large sip.

He winces, quickly putting it down, and I swallow the cool liquid down my throat, welcoming the sharp, sweet taste. He catches my gaze. “Not a fan of champagne.”

Leaning on the table and resting my elbow there, I relax under the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind while the sky slowly darkens and the stars, although still pale, start to pop up, announcing the upcoming night.

“I prefer wine too, but this is good.”

“Ah, someone didn’t follow the rules.”

“Who in our circle follows the rules?” I ask him, genuinely curious,.

Lucian drums his fingers on the table as I munch on the strawberry, biting it harshly, and the juice slides down my chin while the divine taste touches my tongue.

The drumming stops, and I blink in surprise to see Lucian drag his chair closer to me. “Well hello,” I say as he wipes away the juice with his thumb and then sucks on his finger. Goose bumps form on my flesh as my imagination instantly paints pictures of him making good use of his tongue.

He holds my stare for what seems like forever before taking a chocolate and putting it in his mouth. “Blair Spencer.”

Too focused on watching his perfect jaw muscles move as his scent fills my lungs, I murmur, “Who?”

“An epitome of virtue and following rules in our circle.”

Snapping out of my haze, I finish my strawberry. “Oh my God, yes!” One of the sweetest girls I’ve ever met with the gentlest soul. Too bad she belongs to the family that will sell her to the highest bidder as long as it ensures their empire is thriving.

“Rumor has it, Jacob will be proposing soon.” I almost choke on my drink at this information, too stunned to comment for a moment. “Their wedding would allow for the merger of the families. Good deal for the Spencers, while the Price side will get an heir for their jewelry throne. Sucks to be Jacob right now.”

That freaking whore who changes women every week and sometimes two, and the sheltered virgin who isn’t even allowed to leave her house unless she goes to college?

“Sucks to be her, I’d say.”

“Forget about other people,” Lucian murmurs, although it sounds more like an order, and throws his arm over my chair, reaching for a strawberry with the other, and rubs it over my lips. “Open.” I do as he says, welcoming the berry into my mouth, and suck it inside. “I brought you to Chicago, because you’ve never been here.” He must read my confusion, because the explanation doesn’t end there. “Birthdays… for most people, they are joyful occasions filled with gifts, fun, and love. To some though, they are dipped in sadness as they scrape against old wounds.” I freeze, listening to his husky voice and turning more into him so our knees bump. “New York represents those memories for you. I bet your grandmother ordered you to smile to all the guests she invited to your birthday parties that resembled more of a punishment.”

Of course she did.

Long dinners with five-course meals and sitting still while hating all the talk about my accomplishments and the hollowness inside my chest because my family wasn’t there.

Just once, I begged for only snacks. Just a day off from being Esmeralda Hugh.

And no one ever gave it to me.

“Tonight, you have no expectations and can do whatever you want in the city that will never judge you, because they don’t know who you are.”

“Hey!” I nudge his shoulder, and he chuckles, gripping my wrist and lifting it to his mouth. “For your information, I’m famous.”

“In New York and Paris. You haven’t conquered Chicago, gatita. Not yet.”

“How rude of you to point that out on my birthday.”

He gets up, pulling me along with him, and I place my glass on the table, then we walk farther into the garden. His arm wraps around my waist, dragging me closer to him as the darkness settles around us. A few lights pop up along the perimeter, brightening up the garden.

“I’m telling you, Chicago can be a new beginning, untainted by the past. All you have to do is take the leap and trust me.” His eyes sweep over me, almost caressing my features while his glorious male beauty stands out among the darkness, making him look like a sinful devil luring me into his trap. “What did you want the most on your birthday but couldn’t have, gatita?”

The way he words the question hints he might know the answer already, but I tell him nevertheless. “Fireworks.”

Ever since seeing them as a kid in the park and falling in love with them, I begged Dad to have them on my birthday, and he promised me to do it once I turned eighteen. Then Mom assured me after his death she was gonna keep his promise, and then Evangeline….

Except each of them failed on the promise while Grandmother called me a spoiled brat when I suggested it as my gift.

He leans toward my ear and whispers, “Here is your surprise, Esmeralda. Three. Two. One.”

On cue, a whistling sound rings in the air, and my head automatically tilts back to see a flashing light moving up until a big boom akin to thunder echoes around us as several fireworks erupt in shades of purple, spraying wide. Shortly, they are followed by three others in green, three in red, and so many continue to come I lose count.

Covering my mouth with my palm, all I can do is stand still and stare at the beauty that speaks to my artist’s soul. Because for a moment in time, the sky has become a canvas where colors are splashing in the most vivid way, adding another dimension to it.

A bubble of happiness and laughter builds inside me, temporarily washing away everything else. For the first time in forever, the past doesn’t exist in this moment as absolute joy sweeps over me from head to toe.

All because one man somehow found out about my childhood dream and surprised me with it in a city that knows no sorrows or tears of mine. It allows me to be myself without the weight of the past being a burden on my shoulders.

“Lucian,” I whisper when the last firework thunders in the sky in a glorious flower shape before disappearing. “Thank you.” I glance back at him, and my throat hitches when I see him taking a velvet box from his jacket, and then he sinks to one knee.

“Esmeralda, te casarías conmigo?” He flicks the lid open, displaying a princess-cut sapphire ring, the color of the sky under the lights, with smaller diamonds surrounding it. The platinum band finishes the composition, adding style and weight; simply put, I’ve never seen a more beautiful ring.

Or a person who has cared so much about me and has inspired so many emotions within me while becoming more important than art.

Than fear.

And even… than the past that still haunts me but should stay forever buried.

I’ve known him only two weeks, madness such madness, and this decision might be the worst I’ll ever make in my life.

But I think even if he ends up being my mistake, I will never regret it.

For he gave my bleak-like-a-canvas life colors.

So without dwelling on my reply, while bravery holds me tight by the reins, I whisper, “Yes.” And he takes my hand and slips the ring on my finger before getting up and hugging me closer, my loud laughter ringing out as he spins us around.

Joy fills every cell in my body while the future that has always been bleak and dark brightens in a way I never expected, and the familiar coldness freezing me ever since that tragic day gets blanketed by the pure wonder of this moment.

The handsome prince has come and broken the curse that held the princess prisoner in her own head with no way of escape.

He spins us one more time, my dress billowing behind me as the air whooshes around us and hitches in my throat. “You’re gonna make my dizzy!” I scream, and he stops abruptly, putting me back on the ground.

Lucian leans back, his warm palms resting on my cheeks. My heartbeat speeds up as his hot breath fans my face and mingles with mine. “Eres mia, gatita. Para siempre.” Satisfaction coats his tone, sending a dangerous thrill through me as my ears register a hidden meaning in his words.

You’re mine, kitten. Forever.

What a Cortez wants, he gets.

And this should scare me. Obsession slowly fills his brown orbs that have the power to transform him into a man who loves like a madman; this kind of obsession almost always borders on insanity that consumes the person from the inside out.

Except everything female in me reacts to his words—to soak up all the promises they imply, to stay tangled in the twisted web he threw over me. As if fireworks just seconds ago lit up not only the sky but my body too, in the most delicious ways, he continues to create emotions within me that surround me in a protective bubble where only happiness and safety exist.

He covers my mouth with his, the plump lips brushing against mine in a gentle caress, inviting them to welcome his touch.

He nips my lower lip, trapping it between his teeth and tugging. The sting breaks goose bumps on my skin before he slips his tongue inside, seeking mine, coaxing it to play with his.

When they connect, everything changes. The kiss turns into a deep, passionate, all-consuming claim of possession as if announcing to the whole world that I belong to him.

Each stab and glide of his tongue leaves no doubt I’ll stay by his side forever, for this possessive beast will never let me go, and should anyone dare to touch me, they wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.

He will stake his ownership of my body, which ignites in his arms over and over again, using it in any way he sees fit, because he knows he has absolute power over it.

He’s like a virtuoso playing an instrument; he knows full well how to create the best sound that slowly transforms into a masterpiece.

I willingly succumb to his desire, circling my arms around his neck and pressing myself impossibly close to him, moaning at the lust swirling in the pit of my stomach, sending unfamiliar prickles all over me and issuing demands I do not understand.

The scorching kiss continues as his hand travels lower, pausing at my neck while his thumb grazes my pulse. He growls when he must detect how my heart gallops inside my chest, and then his hand slides even lower, tickling the exposed skin before settling on my waist, gripping it hard. He swallows my gasp.

My fingers tangle in his hair and grasp it firmly, wanting to keep his mouth steady so he will never stop kissing me. I try to plaster myself against him even more closely. My nipples peak as I’m held tight to his hard muscles, and longing shoots straight to my clit.

I tear my mouth away from his, and we both breathe heavily as our gazes connect. Lust fills his, while no doubt deep longing is reflected in mine. And then we kiss again, the inferno erupting all over my body in such a way that nothing has the power to extinguish it.

Nothing except the gorgeous man standing right in front of me.

I gasp in surprise when he clenches my ass cheeks hard and hikes me up.

Without thinking, I circle my legs around him, groaning into his lips when the bulge trapped behind the zipper of his jeans presses my aching core, sending rippling sensations through me. His kiss turns bruising as he starts moving, each step creating friction designed to drive me insane.

My hands fall to his shoulders, my ears and mind deaf to anything around me as he rapidly moves toward the house. I slip my fingers under the collar of his shirt, moaning at the feel of his hot skin.

His whiskey-mixed-with-nicotine scent fills my nostrils, enveloping me in a deep haze where only he remains. I am almost addicted to the way just one touch from him can ignite heat that travels from the tips of my hair to the ends of my toes.

Lust spreads in my veins, invading every cell in my body, filling me with longing and anticipation. It whispers illicit promises in my ears, vowing pleasure if only I take the plunge and follow this man wherever he goes.

My nails claw his shoulders when he sucks on my tongue and hisses in the kiss, scraping his teeth over the abused flesh. I hear the door open, followed by heavy footsteps echoing on the marble while his hold on me tightens. He takes the stairs as the frenzy in me stokes the fire deep within me, burning everything in its path.

Throwing my head back, I gulp for a breath. His lips nip on my chin before skating to my neck, where he draws my skin into his mouth, sucking harshly and probably leaving red marks for everyone to see, so no one doubts whose ring I’m wearing.

A property he declares ownership of, and this alone should have been a sign that I need to treat his obsession cautiously. But right now, with the moonlight brightening up the hallway and the dimmed lamps on the ceiling creating an atmosphere designed for sin and seduction, my heart puts a lid on my mind, shutting it up for the time being because my body craves him like nothing else in this world.

In this passionate bubble of his creation, nothing but he and I exist, and somehow I thrive in it. The boundaries that have kept me in place for so many years loosen, allowing me to step on the dangerous and unknown path holding so many promises, and I do not pay attention to any warnings.

“Eres mía, Esmeralda.” The statement requires no answers, since he isn’t really asking, just announcing to everyone who might hear that I’m his.

Yet I still reply, welcoming the relief the words bring, blanketed with a layer of wonder and bliss. “Sí. Soy tuya.”

He trembles, his embrace tightens on me, and he bites my neck before quickly licking the sting away while his fingers likely leave imprints on my thighs.

Palming his head, I tilt it back and place my lips on his, needing to be anchored to him in this moment, because the unfamiliar madness might swallow me whole.

The door shuts soundly, vibrating the walls, and I break the kiss, noticing he has brought us to the spacious master bedroom, illuminated by the moonlight and other lights streaming through the open terrace door. A breeze slides over my skin, yet it does not cool my skin.

My eyes settle on the wide bed behind me, which puts a halt to all the sensations flowing through my body. I swallow at the sight, my hands clenching his collar before I let go, suddenly wanting to put distance between the two of us.

Taking a few steps toward the bed, he gently places me back on my feet, and instinctively I step back from him while nerves temporarily halt the lust swirling over me, and the full weight of what I’m about to do registers in my mind.

People might have done all this for centuries, but I’m about to lose my virginity. And while I all but begged him to take it during these weeks… fear slips into me at the unknown, despite my body craving his touch.

Lucian watches me carefully, reading every expression on my face, and even though he towers above me and I can feel his dominance surrounding us, he makes no move toward me.

He stands still, then finally his husky, deep voice that sends shivers down my spine speaks up, piercing the silence, which only our breathing fills. “Sólo si tú quieres.”

Only if you want to.

And I do—I so do.

Everything female in me reacts to his presence, urging me to run back into his arms and order him to never let me go, to keep me in this vivid reality.

Where coldness from my nightmares might cease to exist.

Then why is it so hard to take the last step?

The answer comes instantly.

Because I’ll be vulnerable in a way I’ve never been before; giving my body to this man right now will make him vitally important to me. As allowing him this would mean placing my trust in him, which might sound idiotic, considering I just agreed to marry him.

Attachments and trust… they are not things I can give freely and be unscathed should they be broken.

Once I take this step, I will never be able to take it back.

He will forever be the man who became my first.

What’s love and a relationship though without any risk?

A raspy breath escapes me as I slip off my sandals, the cool marble greeting my bare feet. His eyes flare at the action, scorching heat filling them, and what they hold alone breaks goose bumps on my skin.

My cheeks heat up while the decision settles in my mind, and I put my fingers on my back where the buttons are located. My hands shake a little, and my heart beats rapidly in my chest.

Fumbling with all the buttons brings me no results though, and I huff in frustration, hating being on display right now and failing to even remove this dress.

Bet his previous women didn’t have such problems.

“Stop,” he orders harshly, as if guessing my thoughts. He moves toward me, each thump of his boots speeding up my pulse until he stands right in front of me, and then my gasp echoes in the room when he spins me around, pulling me to him. “I hate art. Dislike everything about it. Never understood the appeal. I guess it’s just not in my blood.”

I blink at this admission; this is the last thing I expected for him to say in this moment.

All thoughts vanish from my mind though when his fingers undo the first three buttons on my back, loosening the dress slightly around me. He places his lips on my nape, trailing them slowly to my shoulder until he traps the strap of the dress between his teeth, pulling it to the side. He sucks on the exposed flesh hard, sending prickles of pain through me. I groan, clenching my skirt, wanting to lace my hands in his hair, but I don’t dare make a move for fear of him stopping.

“Lucian,” I whisper. He bites my shoulder before sliding his lips all the way to the other side, repeating the action as his fingers unbutton one more.

His butterfly touches and the light graze of his fingers on my back create heat inside me that drives me insane. Suddenly the dress feels impossibly heavy on me, my hatred for it so strong as it separates me from fully experiencing his touch and what it entails.

“Right now though, I feel like an artist ready to create a masterpiece,” he whispers across my skin, and then a tearing sound reverberates through the space. My dress loosens, alerting me to the fact he ripped it. The upper part slides down, opening up my breasts to his view, and his strong palms cup them, squeezing them hard. Pleasure fills every bone as electricity rushes through me in cascading waves. His thumbs brush over my nipples, bringing pain and need with their touch, which only intensifies the desire slamming into me with every breath I take. “And you’re my empty canvas where I can paint whatever the fuck I want.”

He bites my shoulder one last time before flicking his tongue over the flesh and then shifting his lips down my back, delivering barely noticeable kisses that cause more goose bumps to rise on my skin. His hands glide to my waist, possessively clenching me and, for sure, marring my skin with bruises. “Because you will always belong to me. I wish I could trap you by my side, hiding you inside this castle from the prying eyes who would be mesmerized by your beauty and crave it for themselves.”

His hands move lower, settling on my hips while his hard-on pushes into me, making me feel his thickness, and my core clenches as I imagine having him inside me. He scrapes his teeth over the sensitive spot on the back of my neck. “I’ll have to be satisfied with the knowledge that you finally wear my ring because you are mine. Mine and only mine. There is no going back now.” He sways back a little, letting the dress fall by my bare feet, leaving me standing in lace panties, but I focus only on his husky voice, almost hypnotizing me to do as he says as long as the bliss continues. “It’s a curse and a blessing for you.” I gasp when he puts his splayed palm on my belly, drifting it toward my navel. “A curse, because my possessive streak will drive you crazy, my obsession placing demands on you that you will absolutely hate. You might even want to run away, and I will catch you every single time.”

God, these words shouldn’t fan the desire burning in my blood, sending signals to my nerve endings as my body pushes forward, urging him to move his hand lower so he can soothe the fire swirling in my core. “A blessing, because no one could cherish you more than I do. I see no one but you. You know why, gatita?” he murmurs in my ear, catching my earlobe in his mouth before continuing his thought. “Because for the first time in my life, something so pure and beautiful belongs to me. Something that never should have been mine, but you have no choice now.”

His hand finally resumes its journey, the fingers slipping into my panties, and I hiss when his middle one enters me and the heel of his palm presses on my clit, lust erupting inside me. I throw my head back, resting it on his shoulder, exposing my neck for his lips as my core spasms around his fingers, a moan escaping me.

“Your present and future belong to me.” Adding more pressure on my clit, he glides his finger in and out before skimming it over my walls, coating them in wetness as my core begs for a reprieve from the onslaught of thousands of sensations slamming into me one after another. “Tight. So tight. And soaked. For me.” His voice drops lower, the husky baritone serving as an aphrodisiac. “You like being mine, gatita?”

He adds another finger, moving them up and down and creating friction in me as the heel of his hand once again presses on my clit. My heart speeds up, ready to latch onto the gratification he promises me. Swinging my hips a little, I groan in protest when he pauses his movements.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.”

As barbaric as his words sound, I know deep down he would never hurt me or abuse the power he has over me and instead use it to wrap me in a cocoon of protection and happiness.

A man who has shown so much patience these last two weeks can’t be anything else, right?

His other hand laces in my hair, tilting my head even more as our mouths connect in a heated kiss, our tongues entwining in a passionate embrace. He owns my mouth as if it is his personal toy designed for his pleasure alone, assuring his dominance over me. My body succumbs to his demands, my palm settling over his, pushing on it lightly so he will continue his movements.

He responds to me, entering me with two fingers and stretching me, bringing relief and pain at the same time. Rapid sensations grow in me, becoming brighter and brighter, increasing the tension all through me, making me almost reach the bliss beckoning on the horizon.

The passionate kiss increases the need building rapidly inside me, urging me to run into the fire of his creation and let the orange and blue flames consume me as long as it means satisfying the hunger he has awakened in me.

And then his mouth and hand are gone, my whimper echoing in the night at the loss while confusion clouds my mind.

He spins me around, taking several steps back, and we stare at one another for what seems like forever.

We both breathe heavily as he roams his desire-darkened orbs over my form, and despite the instinct to cover myself, I do no such thing and let him drink his fill.

He quickly unbuttons his shirt and tosses it away, my eyes seeing his bare chest for the first time. I blink in surprise at the carved muscles there, the six-pack so well defined my hands itch to touch it and feel them against me to make sure he’s real and not a marble statue like those gracing so many museums, for his male beauty could rival those.

What has my whole attention is his tan skin marred with deep scars, angry red slashes, leaving permanent imprints on his flesh that speak of unbearable pain that no person should be subjected to.

They trail all over his chest in different shapes; the biggest—a round one—sits on his collarbone.

Judging by how several smaller ones curve on his hips and sides, I can only assume a similar picture will greet me on his back.

My God… who would have been so cruel to my man and hurt him in such a way?

Without thinking, I reach him in two short strides, putting my palm on one lightly, afraid it might still ache after all this time. He tenses, holding his breath. I guess he is not used to anyone touching or maybe even seeing them.

The skin is rough, puckered. My fingertips dip in some places because they’ve been damaged so much.

Thousands of questions play in my mind, anger mixing with sadness, because I want to know who dared to do such a thing to him as no one deserves such a hard fate, but I bite on my lips, holding them all back.

Deep down, I know he does not want to talk about it, because he allows me to touch them yet half expects me to be repulsed by them.

Why would I though?

They speak about his strength.

Every warrior has battle scars, and my man must be one too; otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing in front of me right now.

So instead, I lean forward, place my mouth on the biggest one, and kiss it lightly, hoping to soothe the pain that was inflicted on his soul. Because scars leave far deeper imprints in our spirit than body.

Although they serve as constant reminders about our nightmares.

And somehow, him opening himself like that for me and exposing his most vulnerable places calms my earlier nerves and destroys the fear trying to break this moment.

Right now, truly nothing but he and I exist for me.

“I’m happy to be yours, Lucian,” I whisper in the heavy silence and walk backward toward the bed while holding his stare, until the backs of my calves bump against it. Then without turning, I ease onto it. Tossing my hair back, it grazes the black satin sheets. I sigh, trusting my instincts, and finally say, “Take what’s yours.” I fall on my back, my eyes on the dancing shadows above me from the combined lighting. His heavy shoes thump on the marble, anticipation swirling inside me, because I know he is coming closer.

I feel the bed dip under his weight when he puts his knee on it, and then he separates my legs, bending them in the process, and puts my feet on the mattress. My toes curl when my panties stretch over my wet flesh, rubbing on my clit, and a moan slips past my lips. “Oh, I will take,” he says, plastering a hand on either side of my head, trapping me under his body, and I arch underneath him, offering him my aching nipples, which are in search of something I do not understand.

I just know he has all the answers and everything I need in order to sustain the hunger eating at me.

He hovers above me, his lips touching mine, and I open my mouth, ready to welcome his tongue, but a wicked smile settles on his features. “No, gatita. Pleasure should be earned.” I have no time to dwell on his words as he bites my chin, soothing it with the lick of his tongue, and shifts to the underside of my chin, then sucks on the flesh of my neck so hard my hands find their way into his hair, gripping it tight.

The thick bulge pushes into me, pressing on my clit. The rough texture of his jeans irritates my skin, but I do not care.

As long as he keeps this friction pushing me to the edge while fire spreads in my veins, threatening to erupt like a volcano and swallow everything in its path.

“Lucian,” I moan, wanting to clasp my legs around him and tear away the clothes standing in our way. “Please.”

He stays relentless, ignoring my plea as he kisses my neck. His mouth drifts lower to my collarbone, leaving a wet trail behind him. The breeze coming from the open balcony door causes tickling sensations all over my skin and my nipples to harden, turning them into pointed peaks.

He blows on them, and I whimper when he sucks one in deep, flicking his tongue and twirling it around before sucking again and then letting it go with a soft pop.

He nibbles on the tip, the sting zipping right to my clit, and I press harder against his cock, while my hands hold his head in place, wanting this to never stop as lust-filled tremors rush through me.

Licking one more time, he turns his attention to the other nipple, repeating his action.

I become restless, my nails sinking into his nape, and he groans over my flesh, sending a vibration that adds to the desire holding me prisoner. “Lucian.”

After lavishing them with equal time, he moves lower, nibbling on my stomach, dipping his tongue in my belly button, and I arch more when his thumbs hook on my panties and rip them easily.

At the rate he’s going, I won’t have clothes to wear!

All thoughts vanish when his hot breath fans my core, my own blood burning me because I need something only he can give me. I sigh in relief when he settles between my legs, his hands sliding under my ass and bringing me closer to him.

His stubble scrapes the inside of my thigh when he rubs his cheek against it, jolting me in his embrace. He clenches my ass cheeks tighter, keeping me firmly in place as he repeats the action with my other thigh.

He murmurs, “Tan hermoso.” So beautiful. “Mía.” Mine.

His softly spoken words that hold so much power add to the madness consuming me, and I grip his hair and try to drag him upward to feel his hard-on against me. “Please, Lucian,” I beg, not truly knowing what I want, but I might burst into flames if he doesn’t do something.

He ignores my request, chuckling a little, although I feel his muscles ripple. “I want a taste of what’s mine, gatita.” Possessiveness laces his tone, and that’s all the warning I get before he places his mouth on me, licking me from bottom to top as pleasure spreads through me at once. Electrifying my body and making it float high, seeking the relief I’ve never known, and at the same time craving to never find it as long as his sweet torture continues.

I moan when he growls against my flesh and stabs his tongue deep inside me. My core clenches around it, not wanting to let it go. He swirls it between my walls, causing scorching heat to fill every cell in my body. My whimpers accompany his actions. Every flick of his tongue sends me into a deeper spiral of desire and calls my name louder and louder. The ringing in my ears is so strong I cannot focus on anything but his velvet tongue devouring me and staking his claim on me, showing me in all its glory what it means to be his.

I jerk when he presses his thumb on my clit, then pinches it hard, which drives me insane. A wetter pool builds inside me, and the hunger grows, promising me no reprieve. I groan when he pulls back, only to dive in again and then trail his tongue over my lips, one by one, scooping the wetness before covering me with his whole mouth, delivering scorching kisses that threaten to make me lose my sanity.

Just a little bit deeper, a little bit longer, and I might reach that point of oblivion calling my name in the distance. Heat envelopes me whole; every nerve ending is focused on my core. My toes curl, and I move my hips in time with him, seeking friction to satisfy the passion erupting inside me.

My hands fall to my sides, fisting the bedsheets while my eyes close, and I let all the sensations slowly traveling through me push me farther and farther into the abyss overtaking me, arousing me so much the breath sticks in my throat. At any moment, I might burst into tiny little pieces, each one of them filled with unbearable pleasure.

He rolls his tongue inside me, swirling it from side to side, before sucking on my flesh and then moving upward, tapping it against my clit as two fingers slip into me, barely satisfying the craving.

Locking my ankles behind him and dragging him closer, I sob, “More, please, more.” He nibbles on my clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over it while his fingers continue to thrust in and out, each glide becoming deeper and deeper. My pussy is stretched around his digits but not enough to extinguish the fire burning me so much that I have no choice but to arch my back, urging him to finally give me what my body desperately needs. “Lucian.”

His name is a curse, as the captivating man has no mercy for my pleadings.

He continues to feast on my flesh, removing his fingers and drifting his mouth back down, inhaling my scent before giving me light kisses and then pushing his tongue between my walls several more times. I whimper, thrashing my head from side to side, my nails digging into my palms, yet the pain has no power to stop the inferno devouring me.

“You’re delicious, gatita.” One long lick up. “And taste exactly as I imagined, and trust me, I’ve had plenty of erotic dreams about you right on this bed.” One long lick down. “And now you’re mine.” He bites on my core and then sits up on his knees while I whimper in protest. “Patience, gatita, patience.”

“Never had any,” I tell him, and he chuckles, the sound breaking goose bumps on my flesh.

I freeze when he undoes his belt buckle and lowers the zipper on his jeans, his cock springing free, and my eyes widen at the sight.

He’s thick and long, the bulging vein evident on his aroused flesh. Precum leaks from the tip. A moan slips past me, my mouth watering, wanting to taste him. He guesses my thoughts as he shakes his head. “Not tonight, gatita. Later, you’ll have plenty of time to suck me off.”

I blush at his crude words, but just imagining it makes me tingle all over.

What would it be like to wrap my mouth around the thick head, swiping the droplets with my tongue? Would he beg me for mercy like I did just minutes ago?

The air catches in my throat, and the ache inside me intensifies, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “My beautiful, gatita.” Taking a condom from his back pocket, he rips it open with his teeth and then rolls it on his hard length, his cock bobbing with the action. “What do you need right now?” Wrapping his hand around his cock, he slides it from the base to the tip, pulling at it. “This?” I shake my head, and he pauses, his brow rising. “No?”

“I need you. Just you.” Something crosses his face at my husky reply, but I have no time to study it as he is on me once again, running his lips over my folds and earning himself a moan.

His mouth travels upward, over my taut skin that welcomes his stubbled jaw with a jerk, and he rubs his mouth on my stomach, dampening my flesh before moving up, up, up until he breathes above me, lust filling his gaze. His taut muscles glisten with sweat, and I can finally see how desire rules him in this moment too, because all the control he displayed earlier vanishes.

A dark-haired warrior ready to claim his woman.

He delivers a raw, bruising kiss, owning my mouth, while the tip of his cock brushes over my entrance, slightly pushing the head inside only to retreat. His hips rock back and forth, adding fuel to the already blazing fire in my veins.

Snatching my mouth away, I gulp for air as his lips move to my neck, and he whispers, “You’re mine. This will only ever be mine.” The harshly spoken words are all the warning I get.

He thrusts into me hard, and my painful scream echoes in the night, my insides burning so much all I want in this moment is to push him away. My palms press on his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin, ready to leave claw marks as long as it means he stays put.

Lucian freezes, his cock pulsing inside me and stretching me so hard for a second all I can focus on is the deep sting that makes me wonder what is so great about sex. “This is overrated,” I say, scrunching my eyes, tears sliding down my cheeks, while I try to slide from underneath him, but he keeps me firmly in place. “I much prefer the foreplay.”

“Breathe, gatita, breathe, and it will be better.”

My eyes snap open at this, and my tone holds accusation when I hiss, “Didn’t know you were such an expert on virgins!”

He shifts his mouth on my chin, nipping it lightly while placing his hands on my thighs, squeezing them and sending alertness through me while the pain slowly drifts away. Restlessness begins to build, electricity washing over me, and focusing only on his length deep inside me, and suddenly his stillness no longer works for me. “You’re my only one,” he announces and pulls his hips back, a groan slipping past my lips when he drags his cock out agonizingly slowly before penetrating me again, hard.

This time, all-consuming pleasure travels through my entire system. I wrap my arms around his neck and angle my head to receive the kiss he bestows on me, our tongues meeting halfway and dancing against each other while he thrusts out and in again. Each of his moves is so slow and so hard I’ll feel him inside me for days.

Our mixed scents float in the air, only increasing the desire already owning me. My fingers lace in his hair while he locks his mouth on mine, sharing my taste with me, and he swallows my moan while entering me over and over again.

Lust transforms into a scorching heat enveloping me, awakening every hair on my body while filling me to the brink with pleasure as he deliberately changes his pace from slow to fast and hard.

Each deep stroke sends me closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, ready to jump and let all these cravings erupt into a perfect bliss that’s worth all the pain that might come afterward.

Physical and emotional.

He continues to thrust in me several more times until something inside me breaks, hot waves crashing into me one after another. Separating our mouths, I cry out, my thighs squeezing him as my core spasms around him.

Breathing heavily, I watch him chase his own high, giving me a few more strokes before he tenses above me, finding his own relief. I hug him close as he rests his head on the place between my neck and shoulder. I run my splayed palm over his glistening skin, our bodies stuck together, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Pushing his hair away, I lean to his ear and whisper, “Okay, I take it back. I might like it as much as foreplay.”

His laughter that’s music to my ears reverberates through the space and brings happiness to my heart. While for a moment in time, everything stops, leaving us alone in this tiny world we just created, and peace falls upon me.

And the future finally has brighter possibilities.

My man just claimed me.

At last.

And I intend to never let him go as long as he makes me feel alive and not dead, running away from the nightmare that never gives me a break.

Lucian

Esmeralda sighs in her sleep before jerking on top of me, her brows furrowing and forming a line between them. She whimpers, burrowing her head in my chest, and whispers, “Run, Esme, run.”

My eyes snap open at the distress evident in her tone, and she jerks again, her nails digging into my skin as she repeats, “Run, Esme, run.” Wetness forms under her cheek, and I realize she’s crying, sending all my instincts into high alert.

Rolling her gently to the side, I lay her down on the pillow as she thrashes her head from side to side, her hands fisting and covering her face. Whispers transform into murmurs that change into agonized screams that tug on the part of my soul I never even knew existed. “Run, Esme, run.” Sweat coats her skin as she starts kicking, and when I touch her, she shouts, “Run!”

“Esmeralda,” I say in a firm tone, pushing her hands away, which only adds to her panic, and she moves her legs restlessly on the bed as if indeed trying to run somewhere. “Wake up, gatita.”

“Run, Esme!” she screams in my face, and I grab her shoulders, jolting her hard until her teeth snap against each other.

A gasp echoes in the night, and then her scared ocean-blue eyes gaze at me while tears stream down her face. “Lucian.” She exhales, and I quickly hug her close, not even giving her a moment to think about it. “Lucian.”

“I’m here, gatita. I will always be here from now on.” She trembles in my arms, yet her hands wrap tightly around me while she hides her head in the crook of my shoulder. “It’s just a nightmare, Esmeralda. You’re safe.” She presses even harder into me, entwining her legs with mine, and my grip on her becomes more rigid, silently reassuring her about my strength and how nothing can hurt her as long as she’s with me.

“Don’t go away.” Her barely audible voice pains me in a way I didn’t anticipate, speaking about deeper anguish than I expected.

Because only a nightmare that was once a reality has the power to evoke such emotions in a person.

My woman is terrified, and the hopelessness I feel right now makes me want to roar in rage, because nothing I offer will destroy the nightmare, only soothe it.

After all, I know this better than anyone else.

“Never, gatita. Rest,” I order gently, gliding my palm up and down her hair, feeling her slowly relax into the embrace, although her heart still beats rapidly as her raspy breath fills the air.

Whoever the monster chasing my woman in the nightmare is a dead man walking.

He signed his own death warrant when he decided to reestablish a legacy I once burned to the ground.

However, he signed himself up for eternal torture when he dared to hurt what belongs to me.

No one hurts my woman and lives; that’s the most absolute law from now on in my life.

Esmeralda is mine.

Even if she will hate me once she discovers the full truth about my identity.

Because after tonight, she forever wears my claim, and I won’t let her go.

My obsession, my possession, my woman.

The queen belongs to me now.

Checkmate.