Rejected: Dangerous solace in the masked stranger
"Look at me," Draven commands, his hand coming up to grip my chin. His leather glove is cold against my skin, forcing me to look up into the shadow of his hood. "I don't lie to you. He wraps his traps in silk and silver, but it’s still a trap."
"Then show me," I challenge, tears of frustration pricking my eyes. I reach up, my fingers gripping the edge of his hood. "If you want me to believe you over a man who has given me everything, show me your face, Draven. No more masks. No more shadows. Let me see who is talking to me."
He goes completely still. For a long, agonizing beat, the only sound is the distant chime of the Cathedral clock striking one.
Slowly, his hand comes up over mine. He doesn't push me away. Instead, his fingers wrap around mine, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he pulls the hood back.
The breath catches in my throat. ………..Damian claims he’s here to salvage her from a billionaire's trap of illicit blood diamonds. Lisa’s mind tells her he's a dangerous kidnapper who just destroyed her future. But the moment he drags her away from the high-society lights of Antwerp and into his luxurious mountain,everything gets messy.
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Chapter: Don’t lieHis tongue slides into my mouth, claiming me, tasting the water and the heat, while his large hand slides down between our bodies, his long, callossen fingers finding my slick, dripping center and driving inside me with a force that makes my entire world explode.The sudden, blinding wave of heat ripples through my lower stomach. The rhythm of his thigh pressing upward against my core combined with the deep, possessive slide of his hand sends me completely over the edge."Damian…" I sob his name into the steam, my grip tightening on his wet shoulders until my nails dig into his skin.He doesn't let me fall. He holds me tighter, his mouth devouring my cry, drinking in the sound of my undoing as my vision fractures into pure, electric white light. My muscles clamp around him in tight, desperate pulses, a raw release that leaves me trembling and utterly breathless in his arms.Slowly, Damian lowers me until my feet touch the wet stone floor. His hands linger on my waist, steadying my sha
Last Updated: 2026-06-11
Chapter: “Steamy”The master bathroom is larger than my entire apartment in Manhattan, a monolithic sanctuary of heated black granite, dark tinted glass, and brushed gold fixtures. Under the dim, amber glow of the emergency backup lights, the space looks incredibly luxurious and incredibly wicked. I drop the damp cashmere blanket onto a velvet bench and step into the massive walk-in rainfall shower. The low-voltage security lockdown has done something to the digital control panel; the smart-glass walls that are supposed to tint to pitch-black are completely translucent, leaving the entire shower visible to the bedroom. Worse, when I push on the heavy glass door, the electronic lock makes a frantic clicking sound. Jammed shut. I’m trapped inside a glass cage. Turn the heavy gold dial. I expect freezing mountain water, but Damian’s luxury grid doesn't fail. A steaming, blistering torrent of water cascades down from the ceiling, instantly filling the black stone room with a thick, suffocating cloud o
Last Updated: 2025-11-20
Chapter: Midnight flight(Draven’s POV)The twin turboprops of the cargo carrier roar a deafening, metallic vibration through the soles of my boots. Standard procedure. Vance Logistics doesn’t fly clean, cushioned luxury liners when a sector goes hot; we fly flying concrete fortresses. The cabin smells of raw aluminum, hydraulic fluid, and the sharp, freezing sting of the European rain we just tore through. But beneath the industrial stench, the air is thick with her. Vanilla. Rainwater. The expensive, fragile perfume Evander Valerius probably bought for her to match the leash he was wrapping around her neck. I stand by the forward bulkhead, ripping my ruined slate-gray tie from my throat and tossing it onto a wooden shipping crate. My suit jacket follows. The fabric is soaked through with rain, but the cuffs of my white dress shirt are stained a faint, drying pink. Valerius’s blood. My knuckles still ache from the impact of slamming his jaw into that concrete pillar, and honestly, the ache feels good. It feels clean. I
Last Updated: 2025-11-15
Chapter: “You’re in my world now”The cold Belgian rain doesn't just fall; it slashes through the darkness like broken glass. My high-heeled evening shoes are completely useless on the slick, uneven cobblestones of the alley behind the Royal Museum of Fine Arts. I stumble, a breathy gasp of terror ripping from my throat as my ankle twists. I’m waiting for the impact of the stone waiting to crash down into the wet gravel. But I never hit the ground. An arm thick as a steel beam wraps securely around my ribs, effortlessly catching my entire weight before hauling me back onto my feet. Damian doesn't even break his stride. He drags me forward, his massive frame cutting an impenetrable path through the downpour, his heavy boots slamming into the puddles with a terrifying, rhythmic purpose. "Draven stop! Please!" I scream against the wind, my silk Gala dress plastered to my skin like a freezing second layer, my teeth chattering so violently it hurts my jaw. "The police... Evander’s men... they’re going to hunt us down!
Last Updated: 2025-11-13
Chapter: Chapter 18The museum’s basement smells of ancient dust and high-end air filtration. With twenty minutes left until midnight, I excused myself to the restroom, but instead, I followed the subtle glowing blue strips on the floor the ones marking the high-security transit lanes for the exhibition pieces. The antique silver loupe Evander gave me hangs heavy against my chest, a physical manifestation of my doubts. The temporary vault room is secured by a thick glass partition and a biometric lock. I step up to it, expecting the scanner to flash red. Instead, the console chimes softly and turns green. Vance Logistics. Damian’s security system let me right in. Inside, the velvet tray of raw emeralds from this afternoon sits under a harsh halogen spotlight, waiting to be moved to the main display cases tomorrow morning. I pull the heavy loupe from my neck, lean over the velvet, and press the lens to my eye. I’m not looking at the geometry of the cuts anymore. I’m looking at the microscopic imp
Last Updated: 2025-11-10
Chapter: What does this mean?...Halfway through the main course, a waiter steps up to our table to refill my water crystal. As he leans over, his linen towel brushes against my lap, and a small, folded piece of thick cardstock slides smoothly onto my dress. I instantly cover it with my hand, my breath catching. I wait until Evander is deep in conversation with a Belgian minister to his left before I secretly unfold it beneath the table. It’s a sketch. It’s a rough, beautifully detailed charcoal drawing of a dusty, old workshop. There is a heavy wooden workbench, a roaring soldering torch, and a window looking out over a dark, gritty city skyline. It’s an intimate, lived-in space, drawn by someone who clearly knew it well. But as I stare at it, nothing happens. No memories spark. No sudden realizations hit me. I grew up in a quiet upstate suburb and went to school in Manhattan. I’ve never seen this room in my life. Underneath the drawing, written in a dark, aggressive script, are the words: You designed the c
Last Updated: 2025-11-10
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