Under His Rule (Dark Romance Suspense) (His Duet Book 1)

She jerks free from my grip and stumbles backward into the grassy mud. “No, you … we weren’t … no.” I know she can’t wrap her head around it. It’s too much to take in. “I was only a child.”

“We both were … when your father gave you to me when you still lived here,” I explain, trying to remain calm. “To become my future wife.”

“No,” she hisses, her eyes almost on fire. “You were much older than me even then.”

“Eight years isn’t much, Natalie, especially when we’re both the age we are now,” I reply.

“I’m only twenty-two. It’s fucked up,” she says.

“That may be, but it was tradition. Still is.” I step closer again while holding out my hand. “Come on now, don’t be afraid. Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything’s changed,” she says, clutching her dress as though it will bring her safety and comfort in a place she calls hell on earth. But it’s not. It can be so much more than that, if only she’d let me show her.

“I don’t belong here, yet these memories invade my mind,” she mutters.

The tears in her eyes continue to roll down her cheeks, the fire in her eyes slowly fading away, and it hurts to watch.

In her misery, she sinks to the ground and buries her face in her dress as though she wishes she could make it all disappear. And at that moment, I wish the same.

I approach her gently and place a hand on her shoulder, softly caressing her as I go down on my knees in front of her and slowly pull her into an embrace. When she collapses into my arms, I know she’s given in.

Natalie

His arms wrap around me tightly, enveloping me in sweetness as I bury my face into his velvety shirt that smells of toxic love. The same kind of love I remember when I was still young and wanted him to become my husband more than anything. And now … he is.

Because I came back. Because I couldn’t stay away. Because I had to know the truth.

“Now, you know,” he says as I lean back and look at him again.

He’s not that same Noah that I saw before, that enigmatic man who beguiled me and whisked me away into the darkness. He’s the man … who knew all of this and lied to me.

“Why?” I say through gritted teeth. “You knew I was born here, and you didn’t tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?” he replies.

“But why would my mother take me out of this community only for you to bring me back in again?” I ask. “This wasn’t a coincidence. And how … how did you know it was me?”

“That scarf. You didn’t think I wouldn’t recognize it?” he scoffs. “Natalie, you underestimate me.” He cups my chin and makes me look him in the eyes. “I’ve searched for you for so long. And when I finally found you, I knew I was going to take you back home.” The look on his face is so gentle, so sweet, that I can’t help but fall for his magnetizing gaze. Can’t help but let him come closer … and kiss me.

Even though I know it’s wrong. Even though I know he’s the man who brought me back into the world I’m fighting so desperately to get away from. I let him kiss me … because I need it.

Because my heart craves to be consoled, because my mind can’t wrap itself around these twisted truths, because my body wants to be loved … even if that love is corrupt.

Even if that love will kill me.

I need it. I need this kiss to survive this moment of realization that we aren’t just husband and wife now … we always were. From the beginning of my life, I was promised to him.

I sought him out. I came to him, not the other way around.

Of course, he’d take me back.

We were meant to be together.

It’s as if the universe wanted us to be together.

And I can’t fight it any longer.

So I kiss him back and let his tongue slip into my mouth, coaxing me, reeling me in. With one hand on my waist and one hand on my face, he pulls me closer until our bodies are locked together. Our kisses are feverish, fast, and uncontrolled, just like my mind feels right now.

I don’t know what’s wrong or right; I just know I want to feel this love, this greed, this obsession all the way to my bones, because if I don’t … what was the point of it all?

These memories invading my mind and my heart of a boy I once loved, the boy I once played with, the boy I’d do anything for, intermingle with the memories of this man who’s right in front of me, poisoning my mouth and mind with deadly kisses … kisses that will ruin me forever.

But I need them. I need them so badly, like my lungs need the oxygen in this open field, like my skin needs this soil underneath my feet, and like my heart needs the blood pumping through my veins so heavily right now.

I need him.

I need him to take away the pain.

Just one kiss.

One more …

None of them are enough to quench the thirst inside.

His mouth moves down along my chin and my neck, leaving delicious kisses along the way, and my lips part in blissful agony from his teeth sinking into my skin ever so gently. I tilt my head back and gaze up at the darkened sky, wondering if this is what my life will be like from now on—kissing, fucking, eating, sleeping—until our time is up.

A neurotic smile forms on my lips as the clouds above rip open, and droplets start falling down, drip by drip, covering my face and dress.

And still, I don’t care.

His lips are on my skin, covering me in delectable kisses, intoxicating me with the belief that he can fix me. But I know his love is only a temporary drug … one I’ll surely regret submitting to.

“I’ve always wanted you, always loved you,” he says under his breath, pressing his lips against mine while holding my face in the palm of his hands.

“How? How do you know if I left when we were so young?” I ask.

He brushes away tears mixed with rain from my cheeks. “Because we were betrothed. We bonded. We cared for each other. We needed each other. That never changed.”

I swallow back the lump in my throat. I don’t know if that’s real. I don’t know what to believe anymore. But when his kisses continue, and his hands slide down my body, it’s impossible to resist temptation.

“I hate what I had to do,” he murmurs against my skin. “Hate that I had to put you in that position. In that room. All those men.” He grunts, and my eyes widen.

Is this about … the Ceremony?

Suddenly, his hands are on my chest, fingers curling underneath the dress. “I’ll fuck that memory out of your mind.”

RIP!

The dress is split open across my chest, exposing my bra. I squeal from surprise, but the sound goes unnoticed in this vast open area.

“No one will hear you here, Natalie,” he growls, lust settling in his eyes. He grabs my tits and kisses one of them before pushing me to the ground with his body. “No one will come for you. Or me. No one will watch.” He sits up on top of me and unbuckles his belt. “It’s no one but you and me … and I’m going to set the record straight.”

He rips down his zipper and pants and pulls out his giant, bulging cock. I’ve never had the chance to actually look, not even at the ceremony, and now that I have … I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

I gulp at the sight, and a wicked smile forms on his face.

I don’t want to blush, but my face warms anyway, despite the falling rain.

Sliding his hands up my dress with both hands until my panties are exposed, he then rips those off too. He spreads my legs and pushes the tip against my entrance just before pouncing down on top of me.

“Still afraid?” he murmurs into my ear, then looks at me.

I shake my head, but I don’t know if it’s true or if I’m trying to make him believe it is.

Another devious smile follows.

Suddenly, he grips my wrists and pins them down above my head. Right then, he plunges into me. I rip a howl, and he covers my mouth with his. The kiss is bittersweet as he fucks me hard and relentlessly as if to show me his merciless side.

He’s a greedy son of a bitch who’s fucking a girl in desperate need of salvation, and I let him. I let him because I’m just as needy for his love, for his devotion, for his domination over my body.

“I’m not the first to claim you, but I will be the last,” he growls. “I’ll replace the memories you have of him.”

For a second, I wonder how he knows, but then I remember he saw the scar on my belly.

I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to remember my past … or my present, or my future. These kisses are all I need to make it go away.

With his hands, Noah forces me to stay on the ground in the dirty soil while he pumps into me hard and unrelenting, his eyes never straying from mine. And with each kiss, I grow headier, filled with uncontrollable lust.

“Yes, let yourself go, Natalie. Let me fuck you into submission,” he growls, pounding harder and harder.

I struggle to breathe, struggle to hold onto anything in my reach. Plucks of grass tickle my thighs, my senses heightening as my muscles begin to tighten, and I grasp at them above my hands, trying so desperately to keep the orgasm at bay.

“Come for me, Natalie. Show me that face, that same face from the dining room. I need to see it. I need to know you want it,” he says, still looking at me as though he can see into my soul. “I demand it.”

I can’t stop staring into his eyes, those eyes that will haunt me forever as I’m about to reach my climax.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

His hand releases my wrist and reaches down for my pussy. When he starts rubbing my clit, I lose it, moaning out loud.

“Yes, come for me. Come for me like a good wife should.”

Right there, in the palm of his hand, filled by his big, hard cock, I explode.

And I hate it.

I fucking hate it …

Because I am not a good wife.

I don’t aspire to be a good wife because I don’t want to be anyone’s wife.

But the orgasmic waves distract me from what he said, and the grave, fiery look in his eyes right before he shoves into me forces me into the here and now. He lets out a loud groan before coming hard, a warm wave of seed filling me up to the brim. Three more thrusts and he’s panting while still clutching one of my wrists, maintaining control … as he always does.

The rain pats down on his hair, and I take a good look at my husband … my captor, the man who’s enchanted me and bereaved me of my freedom all at once. And for some reason, I feel compelled to bring my one free hand to his face. To touch him. To find him. To know him.

That boy. This man.

And the look on his face changes so softly that it undoes me … twists my heart into a shape I never thought it could.

Even though rain is pouring down on us, I don’t feel cold … but I should. I should feel nothing for this man, yet I do for some strange reason I can’t quite comprehend.

He rolls off me, and I close my eyes, and for a moment, we just lie there in the grass, getting soaking wet. Neither of us seems to care, and that’s fine with me. I never used to enjoy the rain, but now that I’m here, it signifies the outdoors … and the freedom that lies beyond those fences. That’s where the raindrops fall just as hard, where the soil feels the same underneath my sprawled toes.

It’s not all that different, this place and the world outside.

At least not when it comes to nature.

His fingers softly slide over mine in an attempt to hold my hand, but I immediately retract my arm and look at him. The genuine look of love on his face is infuriating even though seconds ago, I wanted nothing more. I guess that’s what love does to you. It fucks you up big time and messes with your head until you even don’t know what you really want anymore.

I cringe at my own enabling stupidity and scramble up from the ground.

“What are you doing?” he asks, leaning up on his elbows.

I hold my dress together at my breasts with my hand while patting it down around my legs with the other. “Leaving.”

He frowns. “Why?”

I don’t answer because I wouldn’t know what to tell him. So I turn around and walk off back into the woods.

“Where are you going?” he calls out after me.

“Anywhere but here,” I yell over my shoulder. “Alone.”

Every few steps I take, I glance over my shoulder, but he’s not behind me, and he doesn’t appear to follow me. Good. Because I really, really need some time on my own to decipher this mess.

Suddenly, a twig breaks a few feet away. It wasn’t me who stepped on it.

I turn and look around.

“Who’s there?” I ask.

Someone steps out from behind a tree not too far away, and I narrow my eyes.

“What …?” I mutter.

It’s that woman.

“Natalie?” she says, her voice frail, but categorically the same as the voice I remember from a long time ago … from when I was still a little girl dancing in these same woods when the grounds were covered in snow.

And my eyes tear up yet again at the sight of her standing in the shadows, waiting for me to come out.

And I whisper, “Mother?”