Текст книги "Darkest distiny"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Chapter Thirty-Seven

I FOUND HIM DRINKING TEA OUTSIDE in his courtyard.

Unlike other people in my life who drank hot beverages just for the caffeine-hit, Lucien didn’t throw back a mug of whatever. Instead—either thanks to sheer boredom or his heritage—he made it a ritual.

The white china teapot was painted with blue oriental dragons. The teacup covered in matching periwinkle clouds. Steam rose from the teapot spout, hinting he’d only just sat down after doing whatever it was that he did in the mornings.

Did he exercise?

Did he swim?

I’d found an indoor swimming pool last week while cleaning—okay, snooping. The west side of the palace had been transformed from an impressive greenhouse into a long glass-covered indoor swimming pool, complete with a steam room, ice plunge, and spa.

It didn’t make sense why—if he was a prisoner—they delivered such incredible food and spared no expense on health and wellness equipment. Why wasn’t he trapped in a prison cell or a small cabin in the middle of nowhere? But...if I looked at it in the way of keeping their investment as healthy and robust as possible, it gave a morbid twist to his luxurious cage.

They needed him alive for as long as his body would hold out—even with the regular torture.

“So you do remember the way, after all,” he muttered, sipping his cup and glowering at the single tree in the centre of the courtyard. “I was beginning to wonder when you didn’t show up yesterday.”

Here we go...

Verbal admonishment coming up.

I would take whatever he wanted to dish out, so I could come out the other side and do my best to make him see me. See my good intentions. See that I wasn’t like the others. See that I was ready to be his friend.

Bracing myself, I moved to stand in front of him. “Go on then, scold me.” I froze as my gaze darted over him. “Wait...”

He really didn’t look good.

His usual predator-like stillness couldn’t hide the barest of tremors. His dark eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep while dark crescents bruised the skin beneath. His cheekbones cut sharply, and all the colour had leeched from his mouth. Even the hand holding the teacup trembled before he steadied it against his knee.

“I knew it!” I rushed to touch him but stopped myself. “That’s why you didn’t come to fetch me. You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

I scowled. “You look like death chewed you up and spat you out.”

“Good morning to you, too.” He stiffened as his gaze danced over my face, drinking me in like I’d drank him. “You seem concerned about my welfare yet...what happened to you?”

I stood taller and arched my chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You had another episode, didn’t you?”

I crossed my arms, unnerved that he could read me so well. “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“You truly are one of the worst they’ve thrown in here,” he murmured, sipping his tea like an emperor. “Completely hopeless.”

My temper sparked, but I held my tongue.

I won’t argue. I’ll be nice...

“Why didn’t you use what I gave you?” Throwing back the last mouthful of tea, he placed the delicate cup back on the shell-inlaid side table and stood. “At least one of us wouldn’t have been in pain last night.” His jaw clenched, causing the tendons in his throat to appear. His signature black shirt and trousers were covered with his floor-length black coat, the front buttons done up as if he felt a chill even in the morning sun.

The urge to go to him and offer support, even if he didn’t accept it, made my legs itchy to move.

“So you did suffer last night,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”

He utterly ignored me. “Why didn’t you drink the vial?”

The desperation to ask for another dose of his strange painkilling blood stung my tongue. Just being around him made my system misfire and all that intensity scraped at my bones, promising another rough night of emotional whiplash.

But I couldn’t just come out and say I needed another dose.

It would make me like them.

He’d hate me even more than he already did.

“I...” I smiled the best I could. “I—”

“Had it stolen from you, didn’t you?” He smirked and brushed past me, heading toward the palace.

“How did you—?”

“Wait.” He spun around so fast, his coat flared around his legs. “They actually stole it?”

I blushed and ducked my chin. How did he do that? How did he ferret out the truth when I had absolutely no intention of admitting it? “It’s fine. I hadn’t really had any intention of drinking—”

“Why?” he snapped, cutting me off with a snarl. “How are you the only person in this world who looks as if I’m trying to poison you, when everyone else would happily bleed me dry? Would you rather hurt that much than take something that I gave you?”

Moving toward him, overwhelming gratitude filled me as Whisper came to join us, slinking lazily through the door and weaving first around Lucien and then around me, almost as if encouraging us not to fight.

“Believe me,” I said quietly, my heart skipping a beat as I lost myself in Lucien’s fathomless stare. “I learned my lesson last night.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, I would’ve happily drunk every droplet, despite my aversion.” I shrugged. “Last night was...rough.”

“So that’s why you’re here?” He sniffed. “You had the first bottle stolen and now expect me to give you another?”

“No!” I blurted, a knee-jerk reaction before I slouched with a wince. “I mean...maybe?”

He laughed icily. “I wondered when you would finally stop lying to me.” He pointed a finger in my face. “So you are just like them. You’re just after my blood and—”

“No!” I cut in, my own temper clashing with his. “I still find it abhorrent what they do to you and if I had any other option, there is no way I would ask you to help me—especially like that. But...next time...if I get that bad, perhaps I could come to you, and you could—”

“Let you drink straight from my vein?”

“What?” My cheeks burned in horror. “No, I—”

“Get to work,” he cut me off yet again, stepping through the door into the huge living room. “The more chores you do, the more salary I’ll owe you. Isn’t that how our little arrangement works?”

Following him, my mind raced on how to respond.

How had this happened?

I’d come here needing to be kind to him.

I’d arrived with my heart full of guilt for what Laura did to Whisper and gratitude that he’d tried to prevent me from suffering.

Yet...how was I supposed to break this animosity between us?

How could I bridge the gap from boss and employee, captive and villain when he only saw me as one of them?

We both didn’t want to be here. We were both lonely. Both suffering. Instead of keeping our guard up around one another, wouldn’t it make sense to be on each other’s side?

Before I could stop myself, I dashed in front of him and spread my arms.

He wasn’t expecting a roadblock and slammed into me.

Our bodies collided and instantly ignited. I gasped as his force shoved me back, making me trip—

His arm snapped tight around my waist, jerking me against him, stopping me from falling by making me fall into him instead. My hands landed on his chest; our eyes locked.

He was so tall, he made me feel fragile and tiny, even as his arm snared tighter, pinning me against his lean, powerful body.

I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move.

His gaze fell to my mouth and a heavy exhale escaped him as if touching me affected him in the same way. The shadows in his stare faded. His churning hatred and hollow misery broke apart like clouds the longer we—

“What are you doing?” Shoving me back, he stepped away, his hands curling into fists.

“I’m...” I literally had no idea what I was doing. “I’m...” My heart thundered, and if I didn’t do something to break the spell, I might very well try to touch him again. Kiss him again. Throw myself into the chaos that always swirled around us the moment we were in the same room together.

Glancing around his home—seeking a distraction from the crackling chemistry, I locked onto the only thing that made sense.

I’d mopped, dusted, polished, and tidied every inch of this place. Instead of trying to convince him I could be trusted as a friend, I latched onto a ridiculous notion of proving my reliability by directing his attention to the only thing I’d done for him. Even if it had been done under duress.

Pointing at the closest side table—a gorgeous piece carved like a miniature weeping willow—the branches and leaves an absolute nightmare to dust—I said, “Do you see how clean that table is?” Rushing toward the library shelves, I waved left and right. “Do you see how each book is dust-free? How the shelves sparkle?”

He crossed his arms. “Your point?”

“My point?” I swallowed hard as Whisper yawned and padded past. “My point is...I’ve done what you asked. I’ve obeyed you—”

“And in return, you want more of my blood. I get it.”

My heart sank.

“Don’t worry.” His lips tipped into a mocking smile. “I’m used to it. You don’t have to pretend you care for me just because you’ve finally figured out how I can benefit you.”

“That’s not what this is,” I whispered. “That’s not—”

“I’ll still pay you what you’re owed.” His chuckle was laced with frost, even as something broke inside him. “As long as you do what I say, I’ll keep you alive and compensate you accordingly.”

My cheeks turned red, blaring my shame before I could lie.

Revealing the truth that somewhere along the line, I had learned how he could benefit me and it wasn’t what he thought. I hadn’t expected it. Didn’t really want it. And definitely didn’t know how to survive it. But desire kept creeping through me the longer we were together and if he didn’t somehow ease the aching, throbbing—

“Forget it,” I whispered, my eyes burning with tears. “Is that everything? Do you have any requests on what you want me to clean today?”

An unreadable mask slipped back over his face.

Any fleck of connection we’d cultivated in the past month snuffed out.

“Do whatever you want.” He sighed as if he was as exhausted as I was. “Just...stay where I can see you.”

A dagger lanced my chest as he marched toward the window seat. To hide in a book. To pretend I didn’t exist, all while somehow using my presence to ease some of his pain.

I trembled.

If I let him shut down, everything would be ruined.

If I stood any chance of making him accept me, I had to push, to fight, to prove that I wasn’t like them. That he could trust me. Like me...

Running after him, I—

“Oh, and another thing.” He spun around, his face black with anger. “Was it you who, ooof—”

I collided with him as violently as he’d slammed into me.

My face smashed into his chest, my speed tripping him up.

We both cried out as he fell backward, tumbling over the back of the couch and landing on the soft cushions below.

I landed on top of him.

His arm shot out on instinct, caging me, keeping me from rolling off. My palms ended up planted on his chest again, feeling the wild hammer of his heart.

Heat.

Everywhere.

His body burned under my hands like lightning. His coat sleeves draped down his forearms as he locked me on top of him, the silver cuffs on his wrists glinting in the sunlight.

“Sorry,” I whispered, breathless and terribly afraid of being accused of planning this. “I didn’t mean...” I pressed my lips together, refusing to say anything else.

He stared at me. Really stared. His dark eyes weren’t arctic anymore—his pupils blown wide and hungry, something raw and unguarded swimming in the bottom of his soul. Without a word, his arm slid tighter around my waist, pulling me flush against him as if he’d forgotten himself.

For a heartbeat, I saw nothing else, felt nothing else.

Just him.

Just his body beneath mine, his palm splayed over my lower back, his breath skimming my lips. Sparks danced in every place we touched, a static charge building stronger and stronger, until one wrong move could set us alight.

His gaze dipped to my mouth, his fingers flexed against my spine, and I completely forgot how to breathe.

He shivered as if my proximity unravelled him, but then, with a guttural groan, he shoved off the couch, taking me with him. He supported me until I stood on two feet, then shoved me away. The loss of contact made my skin burn with snow after burning with his unnatural fire.

Breathing hard, he clenched his fists by his sides. “Stop playing whatever games you’re playing.”

“I’m not—”

“I’ll pay you in blood but not in that.”

How did he break my heart by offering to pay me with the very thing trapping him here, yet constantly denied himself any form of companionship?

It only made me more determined.

More sure that I was doing the right thing trying to be his friend.

“Lucien, I—”

“Don’t.”

“But—”

“Was it you who hurt Whisper?” He cut me off deliberately. “Did you use the knife I gave you to harm the only thing I care about?”

Every piece of me smarted as if he’d slapped me.

This was going from spectacularly bad to horrifically horrible.

I didn’t want to name Laura because I couldn’t be responsible if he killed her. But if I said it was me...

“Did you hurt him to hurt me?” he breathed, pain aching behind his fury.

Whisper came to my side, headbutting my hand until I stroked him without thinking, the solid bulk of him pressing hot against my thigh.

I still couldn’t reply.

I stared at death and went absolutely speechless.

Lucien glowered at his panther.

Silence echoed between us as he studied the way Whisper purred—almost obnoxiously loud as if defending me. I opened my mouth to speak—to try to deflect blame from Laura and save myself, but Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“Forget it.” His tone turned heavy and tired. “It wasn’t you.”

I stiffened. “Are you...will you make whoever did it pay?”

His hand fell and his head tipped up, his gaze locking wearily on mine.

He studied me long enough to make me lightheaded, before he finally sighed. “I told Whisper he has to fight his own battles. He can deal with whoever hurt him.” Turning in a whirl of black, he prowled toward his bedroom. “I’ve changed my mind. Leave me alone.”

Every part of me ached as Lucien vanished into his quarters and slammed the door with a resounding bang.

I sagged against the purring panther. “Well...” I forced a smile. “That went well.”

Whisper huffed as if I was the most ridiculous woman in the world.

He had a point.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

HE DIDN’T COME OUT OF HIS room until well past sunset.

Usually, I would’ve left by now. Grateful to have knocked off work and possessively hoarding the hours I had to snack, nap, and do my best to relax enough for my headaches to fade.

But...I’d stayed.

If I was honest, I hadn’t done much work. Not needing to behave under his watchful, suspicious gaze, I’d spent most of the day curled up in his usual place on the window seat, skimming the pile of books he’d been working through. I’d even managed a nap when Whisper squeezed himself between me and the window, smothering me with his warm, cosy bulk.

A lot of the day, I’d worried Lucien wasn’t well. That he was behind that door burning and hurting, too proud and stubborn to ask for help.

But...Whisper didn’t seem concerned, and I did my best to accept he must be okay.

“That’s for you, oversized kitty cat.” I plopped the huge stainless-steel bowl onto the floor, heavy with two slabs of steak I’d found in the fridge. I’d seared both sides—unsure if Whisper was used to cooked or raw and settled for somewhere in between.

The panther licked his muzzle, his huge paws scarily quiet as he stalked toward his food.

Turning to fill up two glasses with wine—plum this time—I almost dropped the bottle as I noticed Lucien leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, shoulder propped up against the frame. “What are you still doing here?” His voice was thick with scorn and snow, but his eyes lingered eagerly on the mushroom pasta I’d made an hour ago, waiting on the breakfast bar.

“You’re back.” I beamed a smile as if nothing strange was going on between us and grabbed the two glasses.

All day, I’d rehearsed what I would say and each time I’d found flaws and riddled myself with anxiety. I’d had to stop trying to foresee how tonight would go and hoped fate would intervene.

“Here.” Going to him, I offered up one of the glasses.

He studied me warily before accepting the drink with stiff fingers. Taking a sip, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. His jaw clenched as if holding back whatever he wanted to say before he muttered reluctantly, “You’re exceedingly frustrating.”

I blinked, shocked he’d initiated conversation. How was I supposed to reply to that? I went with the most idiotic response possible. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re apologising?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“I can’t figure you out.” He scowled, pinning me with his stare. “Whenever I think I have, you do something to prove me otherwise.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“It is when I can’t guard myself against whatever it is that you’re up to.”

My stupid heart skipped a beat. “I’m not up to anything.”

He laughed under his breath, cold but not callous. “Then you’d be the first person not to have an agenda when it comes to me.”

“Yes, well...” I took a healthy swig of sweet plum wine. “I do have one of those.”

His eyes flared. “What?”

“Relax.” I smiled, cursing the fresh pounding in my temples. Stupid stress. Stupid nerves. Stupid, stupid crush. Where had these annoying feelings come from anyway? By all reason and logic, I should hate this man.

But I didn’t.

God, help me.

Clinking my drink to his, I took another mouthful. When I met his eyes again, I braced myself. “I’ve tried to convince you over a thousand times, but I really hope you can believe me tonight.”

“Believe what exactly?”

“I’m not here to kill you and I’m not here to get impregnated by you.”

His face turned unreadable. “Then what do you want?”

Finally.

A crack.

The smallest, tiniest crack.

“Honestly?” I began to tremble, little white spots fireworking in my vision. “I just...” I looked down at the glass; at the way my fingers quaked around it. Forcing myself to meet his eyes again, I said, “I just want to make our days here a little easier. We’re stuck together and won’t be getting out anytime soon, so...the outside world doesn’t exist right now. It’s just us. And...I’m willing to make it better.”

Shock flared in his gaze as if I’d slapped him. “Better?”

I nodded.

“How exactly?” He studied me warily.

I swallowed, my pulse hammering. “Maybe by trusting each other a little? By not being so suspicious all the time?”

His shoulders turned rigid.

I kept talking so I didn’t lose my courage or hear how crazy I sounded. “I doubt you’ve been touched in a very long time—especially without someone taking something from you.” My voice softened. “We might not share the same pain, but I know you hurt. And I’m willing to try to help you not hurt.”

His eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t hide the quickest flicker across his face that looked like a starving animal being offered sustenance before his frosty mask slammed back into place. “What exactly are you proposing?”

God, I have no idea.

I laughed under my breath, my system jittery and slightly nauseous. “Oh, I don’t know? I’m making this up as I go along. How about a massage?”

“A what?”

Rook! Are you insane?!

I just kept digging my own grave.

I should’ve left.

Should’ve run far, far away—

“If this is a trick to get me naked.” Every part of him drew up and shut down. “You won’t like what will happen—”

“It’s not!” I dashed toward him but then skidded to a stop as he backed up. Ugh, this was going so badly.

Throwing the rest of the wine down my throat, I slammed the glass next to the untouched dinner and had no choice but to double down on this ridiculous, suicidal idea. “Whenever my head hurts and nothing helps, I find...” I sighed heavily, already knowing he’d reject me. “I find a massage really helps.” I touched my temples. “The pressure points here really do work.”

He didn’t speak for an eternity.

Already, I heard his refusal, most likely followed by a savage reprimand.

Never taking his eyes off me, he finished the wine, placed the empty glass on the sideboard and pressed his fingers against the silver disc implanted in his chest. “I’ve already told you that just being in your company seems to soothe the constant burning I feel.”

The fact that he hadn’t left. Or kicked me out. Or refused to talk.

I froze in absolute shock.

“How?” I asked softly. “How do I help? If you tell me...I could do more of it.”

“No idea.” His hand dropped as he studied me as fiercely as a hunter. I felt him deep inside me, ransacking my mind and heart. Thoughts scattered over his face before he drew his shoulders back and gave me a reprieve. “Fine.”

“Fine?” I blinked.

“I’ll try.”

“You’ll try?”

His eyes tightened as his temper sparked. “Are you taking back your offer?”

“Wait...” Comprehension finally caught up. “You’re...agreeing? You actually want me to massage you?”

His lips twitched as if my shock entertained him. “I might be sheltered from the outside world but I’m fairly sure you won’t get pregnant just by touching me.”

A nervous laugh escaped. “Not the last time I checked.”

“Okay then.” He pushed off the doorframe and stalked into the living room.

I couldn’t move.

He looked at me over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Nervousness exploded through my blood, making me sway on the spot.

Don’t you dare pass out now.

I’d suggested this, yet never in a million years did I think he’d agree, but...I couldn’t back down now, could I?

Maybe this was a test?

A test to see if I would try to seduce him, after all? Yet another attempt to force me to admit all my secrets?

I slouched as my heart hammered. I would have to touch him. I would have to willingly get close to him, all while he waited for me to show my true intentions, merely to prove he was right to hate me all along.

I needed more wine.

“Are you going to get this over with or are you planning on camping in my kitchen?” Lucien’s voice sailed, cold and curt from where he sat on the couch.

My head pounded. If I made it through massaging him without passing out, it would be a miracle.

“Coming...” I choked.

Every step cost me as I made my way into the cavernous yet somehow cosy living room with all the mismatched lamps and lanterns keeping the shadows at bay. I could imagine in winter, when the fireplace roared, it would be extremely toasty and romantic.

Ugh, will you stop?

There is no romance.

None.

Don’t even think about it.

Drifting to a stop in front of him, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

With his legs spread and coat missing, he looked like a heartless king on his throne.

I swallowed to lubricate my suddenly dry throat. Whisper padded past and vanished through the open door to the courtyard. “Eh...how do you want it?”

“Want it?” His eyes tightened, even as the corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t know. I’ve never had it before.”

His wary guardedness was genuine, yet I had the sneaking suspicion he was playing with me.

“Well...” My voice came out a little high. “I usually just like head massages when I’m suffering a migraine but you...if you tell me where you hurt the most, I can try and...” I couldn’t finish, my gaze becoming traitorous and drifting down his body.

His hand came up, tapping the silver plate over his heart, the metal clinking beneath his shirt. “This is what hurts the most. Think you can help with that?”

I flinched, wishing I had a medical degree so I could make his request come true. “Unfortunately, I’m not skilled in removing whatever pacemaker-type torture device you have.”

His eyes flared before settling back into that cold merciless glint that’d become so familiar. “Alright then. I’ll trust you to show me what’s so great about letting another person touch me.” His jaw clenched. “But if you’re doing all of this for my blood, then it would be better just to mop the floor.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m also never going to sleep with you.”

“Like I said, never is a very long time—”

“It is. And I mean it.”

“One day, you’ll believe me that I’m not trying to seduce you.”

“Doubt it.”

“I’m also not looking for compensation with your blood. I’ve endured this pain for over seven years. I don’t need you to save me.”

“Then why bother being nice to me? Why even offer to do this?”

I sighed, frustrated but also full of pity. How awful had his upbringing been that he’d never learned to relax around another person? Never understood that people did things for one another without needing to be rewarded?

“Can’t I do something without needing something in return?” I asked gently.

“No.” He frowned, his hands fisting the couch cushions on either side of his thighs. “There’s always a catch. Always.”

“Not with me.”

He smirked but couldn’t hide his tension. “And that’s the part that confuses me the most. And why you’re the most dangerous of the lot.”

“Me? Dangerous?” I laughed. “As if.”

Before he could reply, I rushed, “I’m offering to do this without expecting anything back. That’s it. That’s all. Does that answer your endless questions?”

He stared at me for so long, the air seemed to buzz around us. More questions cut through his gaze, but he didn’t voice them. Instead, he closed his eyes and forced his hands to stop strangling the couch. “I burn in every bone of my body. Every droplet of blood feels like it’s searing me alive. I don’t care what you massage. I doubt it will help, but...try wherever you want.”

I studied him, drinking him in while he couldn’t study me back.

Wiry muscles, ropey arms, and a shredded stomach—most likely from constantly clenching against pain. No part of him would be easy.

My hands already ached at the thought.

He’d agreed yet...I wasn’t qualified. What if I only solidified his opinion that being touched was something to be avoided rather than enjoyed?

The urge to flee came strong.

My cheeks caught fire as I shifted closer to him and the sudden idea of straddling him came and went. God, what would he do if I—

His eyes flashed open, almost as if he’d heard my thoughts.

“I forgot to warn you.” He smiled, tight and thin. “If you do anything that hurts me or if you touch certain...areas, I’ll snap your neck with my bare hands, got it?”

His threat echoed in the room, but for some reason, I wasn’t afraid.

Either my fear and adrenaline were broken from this place, or I trusted him more than I realised.

“Got it.” I nodded.

His nostrils flared as I sat beside him; I cringed as my knee pressed against his.

He stiffened, his gaze snapping to where we touched. That damn spark appeared again. Crackling and constant, a live current flowing from him to me.

Turning to face him, I breathed, “Just...don’t kill me by accident, okay? If I touch you somewhere you don’t like—barring the obvious, which I vow to stay well away from—” my eyes dropped to between his spread legs “—just tell me.”

He held my stare until my heart threatened to leap out of my chest.

Finally, he nodded and closed his eyes again. “Fine.”

Fine...

But it wasn’t fine and what the hell was I thinking?

My breath caught in my throat as I scooted closer and raised shaking hands to his temples. My fingers hovered for a second, unsure.

This was such a bad idea.

Clenching my teeth, I did it anyway.

With my heart skipping, I pressed my fingers lightly to the soft skin by his hairline.

He went instantly rigid.

His breath hitched.

His hands balled.

A quiet beep sounded, a flash of red beneath his shirt from that awful metal circle.

He groaned as if he’d been given another dose of fire. His skin blazed hotter than I expected, fever-warm, his thick ink-black hair going instantly damp with perspiration.

The cords in his neck stood out as he gritted hard, staying perfectly still.

I kneaded small, gentle circles on his temples, trying to ignore my galloping pulse.

He growled—it sounded suspiciously like a groan while trying to hide that it felt good.

The tendons along his throat softened a fraction. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks.

Awkwardly, I tried to feather my fingers through his hair, but the angle was all wrong. Sitting beside him wouldn’t work. “Sorry,” I whispered, pulling my hands back. “Let me just—”

Before he could move, I darted behind the couch.

Whisper padded toward me, nudging my hip in curiosity.

Giving the panther a distracted smile, I leaned over the backrest and placed my fingers on his temples again.

Lucien jolted.

Touching him did things to me. Terrible, wonderful, wickedly hot things.

Doing my best to breathe, I raked my fingertips through his hair, along his scalp, to the base of his skull.

A guttural grunt escaped him as he shuddered. His head lolled back against the couch, surrendering entirely to my hands. His reaction was so swift, so starved from pleasure, my heart flung itself up my throat.

He shuddered again as I massaged his nape. His fists unclenched, splaying open as if I’d successfully destroyed all his resistance.

“Good?” I asked softly.

He didn’t answer. He just let me keep going, his shoulders sinking deeper, his jaw unclenching with every stroke of my fingers. I worked my way down his neck, across the tight knots in his shoulders.

Another shuddery, raspy exhale escaped him.

My stomach squeezed, amazed he was going along with this and actually seeming to enjoy it.

“God, you’re like stone,” I murmured, kneading along his shoulder. My fingers drifted lower, pressing along the dip where his chest met his collarbones. His body jerked, a tremor running through him.

My fingers ached as I tried to deliver perfect pressure. I lost myself to the rhythmic stroking, working my way along his pectorals, avoiding the silver metal implanted over his heart.

I didn’t notice that with every pass of my hands, I tipped closer. Didn’t pay attention that as my touch went lower—hunting out all the spots that made him shiver and groan—my body folded deeper over his to reach.

I just kept touching him, trying to ease whatever misery he felt.

My hands drifted from his torso to his biceps, feathering down again to knead his forearms, cursing the glint of silver around his wrists.

Each time I connected the blood bags to drain him, I couldn’t find a way to undo those awful cuffs. Which betraying board member had locked them on him? Forever leaving access to his veins with no way for him to stop it?