Their Wife

Chapter 1

I woke up with a pounding headache and queasy stomach. It was dark and I couldn't see a thing. For a second I couldn't even remember what happened. Did I again pass out–then my eyes widened. Kilian. 

I was so terrified that I just laid there. Shaking. My scared eyes looked around finding a modern version of the royal bedroom. The mattresses were soft under me with a comfortable comforter covering my body. But I couldn't feel any clothes on my body, just the softness of cotton sheets against my alert skin. I couldn't feel any pain, did that mean they didn't violate me?

Yet.

Tears burned my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. I sit up slowly, holding the sheets against my chest. My heart rate picked up when I saw a wide large mirror standing tall in front of the bed. I could view myself, hairs dishevelled, eyes wide as deer caught in red light, and an ugly large bruise on the left side of my neck where Ralph plunged the needle. Swinging my feet on the floor, I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. My gaze fell on the water bottle on the nightstand. But I couldn't bring myself to drink it. It might be drugged.

Despite the shuddering in my limbs, I managed to tie the sheet around my chest covering whatever I could. My heart gave an uneven thump as a gasp left my mouth making me stumble several steps backwards as my hand moved to cover my mouth. My wide eyes looked at the wall behind me covered with large portraits of...me. 

It shouldn't startle me, but it did. Cause some of them were lewdly drawn. If you have no idea about Ralph Romano–consider yourself lucky among a limited amount of people cause Ralph Romano's a disaster. A living alive spasm of satan–no–the devil himself. He paints with blood and conveys screams in his paintings, he's a world-renowned artist respected by many as well as feared.

Including me. I hate him.

The anger mixed with panic, and I was able to think. I realised I was never alone, they were always there, hiding in the dark watching over me like a predator waiting for a moment to capture me between their claws. Moving away, I carefully looked around finding nothing that could be advantageous. It was expensive and pleasant to the eyes. Money. For some reason, it scared me.

They were criminals with impassive amounts of money. My bare feet touched the ground–smooth and cold to the touch, like marble. My heart jumped several beats at the sudden sound of the door opening. A soft light came in, even though it was not bright, I was blinded by it. I blinked a few times, adjusting my eyes.

And I saw him. Another monster.

Alexei.

He stood in the doorway like a Dark Angel. His hair curled a little around his face, softening the sharp angles of his seductive masculinity. His eyes were trained on my face his lips curled in a slight smirk. He was stunning. And utterly terrifying. My instincts were right–they found me.

"Hello, Rara." He said softly, coming into the room. I casted a frantic glimpse around the room. I took a deep breath and forced my muscles to relax. But my body was not hearing, my heart was full-on galloping, and my hands started to quiver. They had me in their grasp and nothing, no one could save me.

Like a demon mustered, Alexei stood in front of me, a cruel smile on his lips scared the daylight out of me.

"W-what are you doing here?"I hate that my voice was trembling and my hands were frantically clasping at the edges of the sheets as if I were a pristine lassie. Which I was. They've ensured that.

The cruel curve of Alexei's lips exacerbated, dark amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes.

"It's my house."

"What am I doing here?" Maybe I could still rescue this situation, and buy myself a little more time.

He arched his eyebrows. "Cause I want you here." My insides curved with anxiety and something far more alarming. Simultaneously, my breathing picked up, my skin prickling with that hazardous heat I had only ever felt around him. I was acutely conscious of his size and strength, of the way his thick muscles flex underneath the soft cotton of his white T-shirt and how his dark, jeans hug his powerfully built thighs. Of the tattoos that cover his forearms, simultaneously repressing and underlining their sinewy power.

He was terrorizing two years ago. Now, two years later, he's a force not to be inferred with.

"Where are we?" I asked as evenly as I could. I didn't want to delve bottomless into the possessive bit, didn't want to think about what he meant by that. I have a feeling I'd find out soon enough, but in the meantime, I needed to get my relevances.

"We're in Europe," he answered, his eyes glistening sardonically. "My territory."

I clenched my jaw. "And where is the fucking territory?"

He chuckled. "Such language."

"Fuck you."

"Oh." He grinned, flashing sharp teeth that appear extra white against the profound tan of his olive-hued skin. His eyes raked over me, remaining on the spot where my hands were clasping the sheets in a death hold. "Very soon."

My body went simultaneously hot and cold, and I took a forced step back.

It was a mistake. Like a predator reacting to escaping prey, he came after me, progressing with lethally delicate strolls until he was right in front of me, so close I could smell his richly masculine cologne, with its signature notes of rosewood and smoke. And tropical breeze. The fresh, hypnotising tang emanating from his skin was new, and it reminded me of where we were and how inescapable my new prison was.

Swallowing hard, I stared up into his hard-featured face as he lifted his hand and brushed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. His touch burned like fire, adding to the upheaval inside me.

"My sweet naive little pet," he said softly. "Still think you can defer this, do you?"

I moistened my dry lips. I was shaking deep inside, and I didn't know if it was from apprehension or the infernal warmth consuming me. "I need more time. Please."

His eyes were almost pure black. "We've given you enough."

But it was not enough. A thousand years wouldn't be enough, and they know it. What they wanted was everything I fear and dread.

"Please," I tried again, and whether it was the word itself or the quake in my voice, his answering headshake was almost sympathetic. Almost regretful—even as his words slay me with all the mercilessness with which he massacred dozen of men last night.

"No more waiting, beloved." Covering my clenched hands with his big palms, he gently pried my fingers open, one by one, until the gauzy covering of my body was held up only by the corner I tucked into the material over my breasts. I could feel it slowly slipping out, untangling on its own, but he didn't wait. Seizing both of my hands in one of his, he tugs on the sheets, helping it along until it dropped on the floor, leaving me standing naked in front of him.

The cool air flowed over my naked skin, adding to the sensation of icy-hot needles piercing my flesh and, perversely, as he bend his head and imprints the words onto my ear with his warm breath. "It's time you become our wife, Rara."

*****

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