Sanctum after months brought memories rushing to the surface for her. The last time she’d been there, he had marked her. It had filled her with hope again, and as time had passed, the hope had dwindled. Again.
She knew she needed to learn to keep her expectations in check, that she needed to accept her fate and her state of being without letting treacherous hope take over until she began to dream of more. But no matter how much she reminded herself of the same, it always happened unbidden. Hope was borne, hope died, and so did a little piece of her.
Shaking off her gloomy thoughts, she focused on the pain in her feet in the high heels. The club was particularly rowdy tonight. It wasn’t a usual sex club, the kind that just catered to sex. No, it was a club that was the underbelly of operations. Dark deals, drugs, drinks, and dickheads were found in abundance there.
As she weaved her way through the crowd in the VIP lounge area of the single-level open space, the exact space where he’d made her moan, the balls of her feet ached in the platform heels all working girls had to wear. Her heart ached too because a year ago, she had been more full of hope than she was now, somehow expecting the moment to lead to something—an escape at the best, a deeper intimacy at the least.
It had led to nothing. Not a thing changed. He never touched her again but he continued his vigilance. And she was fucking sick of it.
He was clearly someone important within the underworld. She’d seen him make public appearances too many times since then, around too many powerful-looking people to question it. Mr. Blackthorne, as they called him, was someone important. He also walked the night as the Shadow Man, though she doubted anyone even suspected it. The Shadow Man was a hot, unhinged killer, thriving in the chaos he created. Mr. Blackthorne was cold, self-contained, and meticulous. If anyone suspected they were the same men, it was genius.
And she knew his secret. She could use it against him, threaten him with exposure, but she couldn’t. She was weak and powerless, and the Shadow Man was the only being giving her a modicum of protection for whatever reason. She couldn’t jeopardize that.
As she made her way through the club, she kept her face averted from that particular section. Even after years of tottering on the heels, she hadn’t mastered them as perfectly as others. Something about walking in them made her feel more on display when all she wanted was to hide. She hated being on display when she longed for invisibility.
Completing an order of drugs and drinks to one of the tables where one of the servers was eating a well-dressed woman out, she turned to go back to the bar quickly when her eyes paused on Mr. H sitting in a dark corner of the section, talking to a man with light hair. She couldn’t see his face, but from Mr. H’s body language, the light-haired man seemed someone important.
Driven by some instinct she couldn’t name, she headed to the alcove beside their table, eavesdropping.
“—and that’s what I mean,” Mr. H told the man, his voice low since the music was quieter in the VIP area. The light-haired man listened, the back of his head visible to her as he swirled the drink in his glass, a ring with some kind of snake symbol hefty on his right index finger.
“If it’s him, we might finally have something,” Mr. H continued. “If it’s not, the girl is useless now anyway.”
“The girl has more uses than you know of,” the light-haired man replied in a cool tone. “But I hear you. He’s been… disruptive for too long.”
“Sir,” Mr. H leaned forward. “We can kill two birds with one stone. Let’s make an example out of it.”
The light-haired man gave a nod, and Mr. H grinned.
Lyla felt her blood run cold. Either they were talking about her or someone else who had recently become a problem for them. And she had a very strong feeling it was the former.
Before she could quietly move away, the light-haired man suddenly turned, his eyes coming to her in the corner. “Who do we have here?”
Lyla swallowed as Mr. H stood up and came to her, grabbing her by the arm and bringing her forward. “She’s the one I was talking about.”
The light-haired man with light brown eyes and a hook-like nose smirked, straightening in his seat. “Come, sit here, sweetheart.”
No, she wanted to run. She wanted to go back to serving drinks. But Mr. H had her in a tight grip, and she was trapped. Taking a deep breath, she took a step forward.
The light-haired man tugged her suddenly, making her fall into his lap. She tried to get up, struggling as he made her sit on him, chuckling while looking at Mr. H. “Get the drink.”
Lyla turned sideways, watching in horror as Mr. H mixed some kind of blue powder in the stranger’s remaining drink, handing the glass over to the man.
She began to struggle harder as the man restrained her with one hand, pushing the glass against her lips with the other. “Drink up like a good girl now.”
The same words that had filled her with a rush filled her with nothing but dread. She sputtered, wriggling to get away when a sharp pain in her scalp had her stilling. Mr. H held her hair from the roots, almost pulling them out so tightly she whimpered in pain.
“No, please no!” she begged, hoping against hope that they would let her go.
“It’s not for you, girl,” the man she was sitting on chuckled again. “You’re just the bait. It’s to call him out. Drink.”
That somehow made it even worse.
In her moment of quiet, the glass tipped over in her mouth, bitter alcohol and something sour filling her until she had no choice but to swallow it down, the liquid burning her insides and settling uncomfortably in her stomach, some of it sputtering out of her mouth.
She felt sick, but they kept her immobile, making her down the entire drink.
And then they let her go.
She stood up and jerked away from them, stumbling in her heels, her balance completely off-center. Dizziness assaulted her, making her hold the wall for support, stars blinking in front of her eyes, her heart beginning to gallop like a wild horse, her entire body warming gradually to the point she began to sweat. Coherent thought began to leave her mind.
Light. She felt light, like the weight of the world had been taken from her shoulders, like there was nothing to worry about. What was this thing they had given her? She didn’t know and didn’t care. Her body began to sway in the rhythm of the music, her insides heating up and buoyant after endless drowning, a high hitting her so suddenly she didn’t know what she would do when she crashed.
“Yeah, leave her like that. I want the hotel premises secure. She’ll crash in a bit.”
She heard the words but stayed in the alcove, dancing to the music, exhilarated and terrified as a small part of her retained sense, knowing this wasn’t right.
No, she needed to get away.
Stumbling around the furniture and the bodies, she somehow made it to the back door, knowing it opened into the alley. She could get some air and it would all be okay.
Rough hands grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around, taking her deeper into the building to the elevators. Moments later, she felt herself being escorted somewhere, her eyes unable to focus on the moving view as the exhilaration changed, transformed into the sharp edge of pain. She heard herself moan in the biting agony but it didn’t relieve her, only elevated the pinching sensation under her skin.
Suddenly, she was horizontal, a bed beneath her back, and she blinked her eyes to see the ceiling.
Memories of watching ceilings on her back assaulted her; the black hole beckoned again. But she was too hot, her skin felt uncomfortable. Someone tore her clothes off, leaving her naked on the cool sheets. Lost between the pain and delirium that called to her, she needed something. She needed more. God, what did she need? Her body sweat as her heart raced overtime, thumping in her chest, each chest bringing her a second closer to a certain death. Was she going to die? Was this it?
“We live online?”
“Yeah.”
A sharp pain in her nipple made her cry out as someone’s mouth covered it.
“No!” she tried to push them away, struggling, and someone slapped her hard, making her head spin faster. But thankfully whoever it was left her alone.
“Upload the feed. He’s going to come once he sees this.”
Someone spoke, and she knew she needed to focus on the words to understand what was happening, but it felt slow like she was trying to walk through sludge. Where was she? What bed was this? Who was coming?
Him.
He was coming.
A wave of relief so acute swept over her she began to cry. But no, he couldn’t come. They were waiting. They would get him, and she didn’t want that. Who would make her feel safe then? Who would give her answers? Who would she trust? Did she trust him? No. Yes. A bit. Maybe. What was she thinking? Why was she so feverish?
Minutes or hours or nights passed she didn’t know; she looked at the ceiling, writhing on the bed to find some semblance of comfort, her body burning as she breathed, her heart pounding in a way it was scaring her. She tried to inhale to calm down but couldn’t focus enough, could focus on nothing.
All of a sudden, the ceiling disappeared, the room going pitch black.
She whimpered.
She didn’t like the dark. Memories of being trapped in dark spaces came to her, her fear making her shiver as she began to sob. She was alone, and she was going to die, overdosed by a drug she didn’t know, as bait for a man she didn’t know, by strangers who didn’t care. Nobody cared. What was even the point of living?
Something cold pressed against her cheek, making her seek more of the coolness that gave her a brief moment of respite.
A hand. Leather.
“Shh.” The voice of death came from the darkness, his voice, right next to her ear. “I’m here, flamma. Shh.”
A sharp cry of relief left her unbidden even as her mind revolted. No, no, he couldn’t be here. She had to warn him. But she’d promised he wouldn’t hear her voice again. But she didn’t want him to die. Fuck the promise. He had to live.
“It…it’s…a tr..trap,” she stuttered somehow, her teeth chattering as her eyes tried to find him. She couldn’t see a thing in the utter darkness, but she felt him—muscled, solid, there.
“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her, his voice soft, soothing almost, the leather going to the other cheek.
She shook her head, unable to see him. Finding the hand on her face, she touched his leather glove, gripping his wrist, sobs bursting out of her chest. “T…they drugg…gged me.”
“And they will pay.”
The promise of retribution in those words, knowing he would follow through, calmed her down just a bit. He was there. She would be okay.
“The drug is fatal. I don’t know the dosage they gave you, but I’m not willing to take the risk. You have two options,” he told her quietly, his dark voice making her focus for a moment. “Either I work the drug out of your system while you’re barely conscious or I make you unconscious and let it flush itself out. That is longer and riskier.”
She didn’t want to be there longer. She shook her head against his hand again, and he probably understood.
“The drug will make you delirious as the effects sharpen. You won’t be fully conscious.”
“I trust you,” she managed to whimper as a bolt of heat ran through her body, making her spasm.
“That’s exactly what sealed your fate all those years ago.”
She knew that. She had trusted him with something important and he had never let her escape since.
The sensation of his gloved hands on her thighs made her gasp, the sensation heightened by whatever was in her system and the pitch black of the room. The lack of sight made her acutely aware of where his hands were, and how large they felt on her limbs.
She felt him push her legs open, heat arrowing to the juncture of her thighs but not wetness. She felt his shoulders, wide, wide shoulders, split and hold her open as his breath fell on her pussy. Breasts heaving, she clenched the sheets on her side as his mouth made contact with her there for the first time in their first kiss.
Wetness coated her as he flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue, before the flat of his tongue took over, the skill of his mouth making her gush in a way she’d never before, making her feel sensations so sharp it wasn’t pleasurable, it was almost pain. She cried as he did it, the heaviness in her limbs increasing with each passing second.
And then, for the first time in years, she felt herself come immediately, quicker than she would’ve thought possible. Maybe it was the drug, maybe it was him, maybe it was a combination of both. She didn’t know and didn’t care. She just came, and it felt… incomplete. It felt painful, without an iota of pleasure.
But it took the edge off for a minute.
“Your trust, flamma, is the most addictive drug.”
The quiet words penetrated her hazed mind as she looked down to where his voice was coming from, seeing nothing, almost like an invisible man was touching her. The Shadow Man. Her man.
“I won’t give you more of it,” she told him in her split second of clarity, and felt his teeth on the inside of her thigh.
“You will. Every atom in your body sings for me too.”
His words reminded her of the note, her thighs clenching around his shoulders in recall. “My body’s reactions mean nothing.” With the way it had been used and abused over the years, she didn’t trust it. She didn’t even like it. The self-loathing phase she had for her body in the beginning was long gone; it was just numbness now.
Something warm pressed into her clit, making her gasp. “Even meaningless, they’re all mine.”
She wanted to refute his statement but another wave of haze came over her. She cried, sobbing because he claimed her without claiming her, he wanted her without wanting her, and she needed more, she needed him, and he didn’t give her that. She cried and resisted as the pain in her body increased, and he stayed until she surrendered. His mouth wreaked havoc as he made her come again and again and again, to the point where she passed out, or she thought she did. A large part of it went blank for her, but her body kept responding, kept reacting, kept coming, leaving her sore and satiated yet empty and incomplete, clenching with a thirst she felt in her soul, never to be quenched.
Yet, he stayed with her.
