Bound to the Devil

The Mediterranean night smelled of salt, rotting fish, and blood.

Adrian Vale rested on a concrete barrier at the edge of the old docks, sketchbook balanced on his knee, trying to capture the fractured reflection of warehouse lights on black water. Twenty-two, broke, and chasing a cheap three-month art internship in Palermo, he had wandered too far from the tourist paths. The air was warm and sticky against his skin, his thin white t-shirt clinging to his lean chest.

He didn’t hear the men until it was too late.

A low, calm voice sliced through the darkness. “Finish it.”

Adrian froze. He pulled one earbud out.

Ten meters away, under the harsh glare of a single floodlight, three men stood around a fourth who was on his knees, hands zip-tied behind his back. The man on his knees was sobbing, begging in rapid Italian. And towering over him was a figure that made Adrian’s stomach drop.

Luca De Santis.

Even without knowing the name yet, Adrian felt the danger rolling off him. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms. His face was brutally beautiful with sharp jaw, high cheekbones, icy gray eyes that reflected the moonlight like a wolf’s. Dark hair slicked back. A thin scar through his left eyebrow.

The kneeling man screamed something about mercy.

Luca didn’t even blink. He raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The gunshot cracked across the water like thunder.

Adrian’s sketchbook slipped from numb fingers and clattered to the ground.

Luca’s head snapped toward the sound. Their eyes locked.

Run.

Adrian ran.

He sprinted down the dock, heart slamming against his ribs. Shouts exploded behind him. Heavy boots. Another gunshot splintered wood near his shoulder. He cut left into a narrow alley between warehouses, lungs burning, sneakers slapping wet concrete.

Strong hands grabbed him from behind. Adrian twisted like a wild animal, elbow connecting with a jaw. A grunt, then a fist drove into his stomach. Pain exploded. He doubled over, gasping. They zip-tied his wrists so tight the plastic bit into his skin and dragged him back.

When they shoved him to his knees in front of Luca, Adrian was still wheezing.

Up close, Luca was devastating. Six-foot-three of pure lethal grace. The scent of gun oil, expensive cologne, and something darker clung to him. A few specks of blood dotted the collar of his black shirt. He looked untouched by the violence he’d just committed.

“Pretty little tourist,” Luca murmured, voice low and velvet-rough with an Italian accent. “Wrong place. Wrong night.”

“I didn’t see anything,” Adrian rasped, glaring up at him. “Just let me go. I swear I won’t.

Luca crouched, gripping Adrian’s chin with strong fingers. The touch sent an unwanted jolt straight down Adrian’s spine. Luca tilted his face up, studying him like a predator examining new prey. His thumb brushed over Adrian’s lower lip, slow and deliberate.

“Smart mouth,” Luca said softly. “I like that. Most men piss themselves. You… you still fight.” His pale gray eyes darkened. “Name.”

“Adrian Vale,” he spat.

Luca’s lips curved into the ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Adrian.” He said it like a taste he wanted to savor. “Take him to the estate. Alive.”

One of the men protested. “Don Vittorio said—”

“I said alive.” Luca’s voice turned to ice. “If anyone puts so much as a bruise on him before I decide, I’ll cut their hands off. Understood?”

A chorus of respectful affirmatives.

Adrian was hauled upright and shoved toward a waiting black SUV. As they pushed him into the back seat, he looked back once. Luca was still watching him, eyes burning with something far more dangerous than murder.

Fascination.

The De Santis estate sat high in the hills outside Palermo, a fortress of ancient stone and modern luxury surrounded by high walls and armed guards. They dragged Adrian inside, up a sweeping staircase, and into a large bedroom with barred windows disguised as ornate ironwork.

The door slammed shut. Locked.

Adrian paced like a caged animal for what felt like hours. When the lock finally clicked again, Luca stepped inside alone.

He had changed into a fresh black shirt, sleeves rolled up. In one hand he carried a glass of water. In the other, a plate of food. He set both on the heavy wooden table and turned to face Adrian.

“Eat,” Luca ordered.

“Fuck you,” Adrian snapped. His heart hammered. “Let me go. I’m nobody. I won’t talk.”

Luca’s gaze dragged slowly down on Adrian’s body over the tight white t-shirt now stained with dirt, the way his jeans clung to his thighs, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The inspection felt physical.

“No,” Luca said simply. “You belong to me now.”

He crossed the room in three strides. Adrian backed up until his shoulders hit the wall. Luca didn’t stop. He planted one hand beside Adrian’s head, caging him in, and used the other to grip his jaw again.

“You saw me kill a man,” Luca whispered, breath hot against Adrian’s ear. “Most people who see that die screaming. But you…” His free hand slid down Adrian’s side, fingers pressing into his waist. “You’re too beautiful to waste a bullet on.”

Adrian’s breath hitched. He hated the heat pooling low in his stomach.

Luca’s hand moved lower, brushing over the front of Adrian’s jeans. He palmed the growing hardness there with deliberate pressure. Adrian bit back a gasp.

“Look at you,” Luca murmured, voice dark with satisfaction. “Already getting hard for the man who owns your life. Defiant little slut.”

“I’m not—” Adrian started, but Luca squeezed, and the words dissolved into a choked moan.

Luca leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Adrian’s ear. “I’m going to strip you now. If you fight me, I’ll tie you to the bed and edge that pretty cock until you’re crying. Understand?”

Adrian glared, cheeks burning with fury and unwanted arousal. But he didn’t fight when Luca pulled his t-shirt up and off, exposing smooth, toned skin. Luca’s eyes darkened further as he took in Adrian’s bare chest, the faint trail of hair disappearing into his jeans.

The jeans came next. Luca unbuttoned them slowly, dragging the zipper down with agonizing care, then shoved them down Adrian’s legs along with his underwear. Adrian stood completely naked, cock half-hard and betraying him under Luca’s hungry stare.

Luca stepped back, still fully dressed, and circled him like a predator. His hand trailed over Adrian’s ass, squeezing one firm cheek, then slid up his spine.

“Beautiful,” Luca said, almost reverently. “And now you’re mine to keep. Mine to break. Mine to ruin.”

He pressed up behind Adrian, fully clothed body against naked skin, and let Adrian feel the hard length of his erection grinding against his ass.

Adrian shuddered, hating how good it felt. “I hate you,” he whispered.

Luca chuckled low against his neck, then bit down hard enough to leave a mark. “Good. Hate me while you leak for me, Adrian.”

He stepped away abruptly, leaving Adrian naked, aching, and furious.

“Sleep,” Luca ordered as he moved toward the door. “Tomorrow I decide whether to fuck you or kill you. Maybe both.”

The lock clicked behind him.

Adrian sank onto the edge of the massive bed, cock still very hard, skin burning where Luca had touched him.

He was trapped.

And the devil had already started his slow, filthy corruption.