Cherish: A Dark Mafia Captive Romance (Cherish Series Book 4) Page 2

  I cock my head as I brush my fingertips against her core, teasing her lips. She gasps soundlessly, her lips parting as she writhes against my invasion. My fingertips find her clit, and she let out a breathy little moan, closing her eyes.

  “Look at me,” I order.

  Her eyes open again. I lean down and slide my fingers into her pussy. I smile wickedly.

  “Tell me who you belong to,” I whisper. “So that there won’t ever be any doubt.”

  Her perfect pink lips form the words I need to hear. “You. I belong to you, Monster.”

  Withdrawing my hand from her pussy and from the water, I stand. “Good. I’ll be waiting in the bedroom for you when you’re finished. And don’t cut your feet on the porcelain on your way out of the bathroom.”

  I leave the bathroom, already unbuttoning my bloodied shirt. The words she spoke echo through my head.

  I belong to you, Monster.

  But even as I begin to strip off my clothes, I know that’s not enough.

  When will she ever be able to quell this unease deep inside me?

  3

  Fiore

  The collar is made of white gold, finely wrought and expensive. I turn it over, considering it as I sip my coffee at the little French patisserie next door to the hotel. It’s been a few days since I killed Tony, a few days of tossing and turning all night in my hotel room bed.

  This morning, I got up to find Monster gone. No note, no direction for how I should spend my day.

  There was only this collar on the pillow beside mine, shiny and cold to the touch.

  I’ve seen the collar before. I know it’s from him.

  A gift.

  A reminder.

  Something that says I am his possession, without a shadow of a doubt. I’m not sure who Monster feels needs to be warned off. Is it everyone who sees me? One person in particular? Or maybe it’s me that Monster can’t seem to trust.

  After all, we have a rocky history. We’ve both made mistakes that make it hard to trust each other.

  I have trouble trusting myself and my feelings around Monster, honestly.

  How can I trust myself, after what I did to Tony?

  I murdered him. I took his life away, and for what? Because he was a jerk?

  I try not to look at my palms, which are still sticky with imagined blood after the shooting. I know it’s very Lady Macbeth of me, but I can’t help but imagine my brother’s blood on my hands no matter how many times I wash them.

  It won’t go away.

  Nor will the fact of my life, my horrible pathetic little life as Katherine Carolla. It almost makes me glad that Monster says I died and came back as Fiore.

  First, I let Tony and my brothers jerk me around like a puppy on a chain for basically my whole life. Then, I let my father set any rules he wanted for me, which only served to isolate me. Finally, my eyes were opened in the worst way possible, by a person that I myself nicknamed Monster.

  So now, for me to have these… these feelings for him… feelings that make my stomach flutter every time he’s around… Yeah, not reliable. Not at all.

  I consider that as I set the collar down on the table beside me, picking up my coffee cup instead. I drain the last drops, wishing there was just a little bit more.

  Isn’t that always the case?

  I look up and catch the reflection of a man in a mirror before me. Tall, dark, and wearing a button up and slacks, for a moment I think that it’s Monster that I see. He’s approaching me, which makes my two bodyguards draw closer. I can see familiarity on the guard’s faces, though.

  As he gets closer, I can see a few differences between this man and Monster. Where Monster mostly wears a day’s worth of scruff, this man has more of a beard. His laugh lines and crows’ feet are more pronounced, but only a little.

  What really sets them apart is the eyes, though. Where Monster’s gaze is a chilling grey, this man’s eyes have the lightest tinge of hazel. I try to figure out if his eyes are more green or more light brown, but I can’t.

  Stopping just before my bodyguards start to get their hackles up, he smiles at me in the mirror. That smile is all too familiar to me; it’s the same grin that Monster used to wear when I first met him.

  The one that used to make chills break out along my arms.

  The one that said its wearer would eat me alive if I turned my back for a second.

  “You must be Katherine,” he says, his deep voice inflected with a melodious swirl of Greek and British accents. Just like Monster.

  They can only be brothers. And since I have met Damen, this can only be Dryas.

  I turn in my chair, raising a brow. “You must be Dryas, I presume.”

  His smile widens. “Right you are. I must say, my brother doesn’t usually like his women with brains, but I can see that you are different.”

  My lips thin at the mention of Monster’s other women. I feel a surge of jealousy, but I don’t let it show.

  “You look very much like him,” I say.

  “Yes, but better looking, obviously.” He makes the statement with no trace of humor, so I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not. He regards me for a moment. “You aren’t Arsen’s usual type… but you are quite stunning.”

  I force my lips into a semblance of a smile. Glancing at my bodyguards, I incline my head a fraction. They step back, allowing Dryas to approach. He comes around the little table, pulling up a seat and sitting down.

  His eyes glint as he settles in. “On second glance, I see what he sees in you. You look like a girl he had for a while. That was here, in this city, I think.”

  I soak up that information, but I’m still uncertain of his intentions. I don’t trust him further than I could throw him, and with those broad shoulders and big feet, he’s almost twice my size.

  “Why are you here, Dryas?” I keep my tone light, pretending to pick a speck of lint off of my yellow silk dress.

  “In New Orleans? I think that should be obvious. I had to meet you, Katherine.”

  I smile ruefully, skirting the topic of my name. “There must be a reason you are here, talking to me by yourself. I’m certain that your brother wouldn’t like you approaching me alone.”

  Dryas looks at me for a second, his lips quirking. Then he looks around the shop. “Who do I have to murder to get a cup of coffee around here?”

  “It’s counter service,” I say.

  He hops up, heading to the counter. He fishes a couple of bills out of his wallet, dropping them in front of the wide-eyed barista.

  “Coffee,” he commands the young girl. “One for me, one for my companion.”

  Then he turns his back and returns to the table. “Problem solved.”

  He sits down, drumming his fingers on the wood tabletop that stretches between us. He casts an eye over my body, making me uncomfortable. I squirm just a little, and from his smile, I can see that he got the reaction he was looking for.

  “How much?” Dryas asks, sliding his chair closer. He reaches out, grasping my wrist, and pins me with a hard stare. “What, do you charge by the hour? Or is it more of a week by week basis?”

  I try to tug my wrist back. His grip turns painful. One of the bodyguards moves in, but I stop him with a glance.

  “I’m not sure what kind of ladies you spend time with, but I assure you that I am not for sale.” Even as I say it, though, my heart sinks. I’m not for sale at the moment, but that is how Monster acquired me in the first place.

  And there’s nothing saying that I won’t be on the auction block again when Monster tires of me… assuming he doesn’t just kill me outright himself. I shudder delicately, which seems to please Dryas.

  “I’ll take that to mean you are open to the idea, then.”

  I can’t help my frustrated frown. “What idea?”

  He pulls me closer, putting my hand on the bulge in his slacks. He’s hard, which is especially distasteful to me. “The idea of you coming to spend a little time with me, darling.”

  I’m
so shocked by his behavior, I don’t even know how to respond. This time when the bodyguards come to swoop in and part us, I don’t make a fuss. I let one pull me to safety, but my rage starts to build.

  “I would never do that to him,” I swear, my voice shaking with anger. “Never.”

  Dryas grins as a bodyguard paws at him. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “What is wrong with you?” I hiss.

  He looks at the bodyguard that’s in his face. “I swear, if you touch me again, I’ll gut you. I’m trying to have a nice conversation with Katherine here.”

  “Stay back,” the bodyguard orders him placidly. “Jack, take her out of here.”

  I’m only too ready to leave. As I turn toward the door, Dryas’s voice floats to me from the back of the cafe. “I’m not even interested in you, Katherine. I’m interested in taking everything my brother has. You’re just the first step.”

  What? Why?

  I turn my head, I try to stop. But the bodyguard keeps pulling me out the door.

  “Stop!” I insist. “Seriously, let me go!”

  The bodyguard’s movements slow. I turn back toward Dryas, scowling. “I thought you were supposed to be working together.”

  “Says who?” Dryas says casually, shaking off his bodyguard’s touch. “I’m the superior brother. You’ll see that. If you come to me willingly, I’ll treat you better than he does. Buy you better things, take you better places. I’ll even make you my wife if that’s what you want.”

  I try to keep my tone firm. “I already told you, I’m not interested.”

  Dryas smiles lightly. “Well, then you’ll have to forgive me, but I will do whatever I have to do to get you. And once I have you, you’ll regret making me work for it. You see, I think my brother is very fond of his little slave. And I can’t just let him be happy, can I?”

  “So, this is about him, then. Not about me at all.” I fold my arms across my chest.

  “If I gave you any other impression, I would be lying.” He looks about as smug as can be. I find my fingers itching with the desire to slap that look off his face, but I would never act on it. “But I would never put you in the position of choosing between my life or your brother’s. Think about that.”

  With that, my bodyguard drags me out of the cafe, hustling me towards a car. I get in and the car takes off, but I look back with a scowl to see Dryas watching from just outside the cafe.

  He smiles that smug grin again. I whip my head around and will the car to move faster.

  But his words still ring in my ears.

  I would never put you in that position. Think about that.

  Against my own wishes, I can’t do anything else.

  4

  Arsen

  It’s the middle of the night, but I’m not asleep. I should be. I want to be. But I lie in my bed and stare at the street light stealing into my windows, look at the shadows cast on the wall by my blinds. It’s been a few days since we returned to the house.

  I lost my taste for hotels when I woke to my eggs cooked incorrectly for the fourth time in a row. Driven mostly by my own need to be comfortable, I pushed Fiore into agreeing that we should return.

  When I followed her into the house, into the living room… she pressed her knuckles against her lips, her face screwing up in pain as she looked at the spot where her brother died.

  Her reaction was heartbreaking. I found myself thinking that I pushed too soon. But before I could attempt to comfort her, she fled upstairs to her room.

  Now it’s been three days and three nights, and I haven’t seen Fiore step foot outside her bedroom. I was worried… now I’m thinking that I might have broken her, just to be more comfortable and eat a little better.

  Fuck.

  The worst part is being conscious of the fact that I care at all in the first place.

  I don’t want to care.

  I don’t want to imagine her crying, imagine her in pain.

  I definitely don’t want to be lying awake right now, wondering if I should go to her.

  What can I possibly say that will make her feel better?

  What can I do to make myself not feel this… this strange twisting feeling in my gut every time I picture her reaction to seeing the living room? The fact that something that I did made her cry… and the fact that I care…

  It’s humiliating, and it infuriates me.

  I roll over, staring at the doorway. It’s dark of course, but the door is open a hair. In case Fiore calls for me in the middle of the night. I can admit that much to myself.

  Closing my eyes, I sigh. I swear, I’m losing my fucking cool over this girl. What the fuck? Who am I?

  Because Arsen Aetós would not be lying in his bed, moping about some girl.

  “Monster?”

  Fiore whispers my name, so softly I think I might be imagining it. I open my eyes and look over to find her standing in nothing but an old t-shirt, eyes rimmed with red. Sitting up, I pretend that I wasn’t just thinking about her.

  “Fiore,” I say. I draw back the blankets on my bed, indicating that she should come in.

  She hesitates, looking at me with a haunted expression. I would give anything to know what is going on in her head just now.

  “Come here.” My order is softly spoken, but my words are underlined with steel.

  Fiore stumbles forward, pulled through the doorway by my command. Though there is still uncertainty and even anger in her eyes, she slips beneath the covers. She shivers a little and I pull her into my warm embrace, not minding her stiffness.

  She gives a watery sigh as if she’s not sure why she came here to me. I fold her against my body, molding her to my chest and my hip, making her lay her head down on me.

  Fiore sighs again, her body beginning to relax. I stroke her hair, soothing her into submitting to my will. We lie like that for a while, with her just staring angrily off into the distance.

  I’m trying not to wonder what’s on her mind. I’m not a girl. I won’t ask.

  At length, she speaks, her voice still full of unshed tears. “I am so fucking angry at you right now.”

  I pause my idle stroking of her hair. “Why?”

  She makes an exasperated sound, pushing her face against my chest as if she could disappear there. “Everything.”

  I smother a chuckle. This really isn’t funny, it was just not the response I expected. “Can you expand on that?”

  She just burrows deep down into the comforter. “We’re in a world of your making. You realize that, right?”

  I do realize that. It’s more my world than she even knows, but that’s neither here nor there. She wants to vent; she can vent. I don’t say anything, which leads her to continue on after a moment.

  “You brought me to Columbia. You killed my family, which we haven’t really even fully talked about, although this isn’t the time. You isolated me, stripped me down, broke me, and reshaped me into this… this person.” Her voice wobbles, growing breathy. “Then you put me in a life or death situation and made me choose. You forced me to choose you. You see that, don’t you?”

  I feel her tears as they fall on my chest. Bringing my arm up around her waist, I pull her against my body tightly.

  Don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry.

  I think the words, but I don’t say them. Shifting my weight, I nuzzle her neck, the long curtain of her hair sliding against my face. After a moment, she brushes her hair back and seeks my lips with her own.

  Her eyes are mostly closed, tears still hanging from her eyelashes. Her mouth is soft and warm where she presses her lips to mine.

  Hungry. Entreating.

  I control the kiss without thought. It’s second nature. Cupping her jaw, I open my mouth to hers. Her small tongue dances with mine, her desperation growing with each moment. There is no sound in the room except for the noise that our lips make, and the soft sighs that occasionally slip from her throat.

  She breaks away, sitting up and pulling the t-shirt up ove
r her head. She’s left completely naked. The idea that she is nude, mentally as well as physically. She’s utterly defenseless against me, and that in itself is very exciting.

  I’m wearing my boxer briefs still, but I strip those off and pull Fiore on top of my body. I’m reminded again how small she is, how I could crush her skull with little effort, snap her spine.

  But I don’t. Instead, I kiss her as she straddles me, groaning when she pushes the blanket away and puts her hand on my cock, guiding me to her entrance. She’s already wet for me, her body begging for me without her saying a word.

  I lock lips with her as my cock begins to slide deep inside her pussy. My hands are in her hair, tightening their hold as the unbelievably sweet pressure of her pussy grips my cock.

  “Fuck,” I breathe out. “Your pussy is so fucking wet for me.”

  I meet her eyes, staring intently as I set a slow rhythm. She ignores me, pushing my chest down. Sitting up, she sets her own pace, bobbing up and down on my cock briskly. She pulls out all the stops, so that her hips smash into mine, again and again, her tits bouncing every time she hits my body.

  Fuck it. I stretch out and enjoy the hate-fucking for a minute. From her expression, that is precisely what’s happening. She digs her fingernails into my neck, gyrating hard. I can see a sheen start to form on her face and body, droplets of her sweat.

  I’ve never seen her like this, but it’s fucking hot. I grab her ass and buck up into her, riding according to her rhythms. She throws her head back and closes her eyes.

  I slip my hand down between us, using the pad of my thumb to stimulate her clit. She moans, leaning into my hand and going faster.

  “Oh,” she whispers, her hips moving quickly. “God, yes… oh, yes…”

  She’s going to come, I can see it in her face. I let go of the tight control I’ve been holding, pounding into her as she slams down onto me over and over.

  She goes rigid for a second as her orgasm ripples through her body, making her core clench around me. I groan, not missing a beat. Grabbing her ass with both hands, I slam myself home a few more times until I can feel the orgasm bearing down on me. I come with a roar, the cum bursting from my balls and spilling inside her pussy in great gushing spurts.