Chapter Five — Veins of Betrayal

Elara's POV

Victor's voice sliced through the thick air of the pool house, making my blood run cold. "Damien?” He called again.

The way I froze against Damien—his hand still on my neck, thumb pressing on my pulse like he owned it—needed to be studied in a university. 

“You out here?” he called again.

Damien's body tensed, shielding me in the shadows behind the lounge chair before the door swung wider, spilling more light from the house. 

My heart slammed so hard I thought it would give us away. If Victor saw us like this—lips swollen from that slow, teasing kiss, my tank clinging to sweat-slicked skin—he'd know. 

The forbidden heat between us, the way Damien's hardness had ground against me moments ago, promising dirty claims. Dread choked me; this could end everything.

Damien's grip tightened around my arms in a silent warning. He stepped forward casually in order to cleanly block Victor's view of me. 

"Yeah, Dad,” he answered. “I couldn't sleep. I just needed some air."

Victor's silhouette loomed in the doorway, his eyes were busy scanning the dim space with interest. 

"I heard noises. I thought maybe it was an animal that got in." He paused, his voice dropping low. "Or someone was snooping around the place."

My breath caught. 

Snooping? Like what I was doing in Damien's room earlier when I had gone to look for a hard fuck?

The reason I had spotted that file on rival syndicates and leverage. Was Victor paranoid about his secrets? The ones Damien hinted at—debts, and dirt that could burn the family down.

Damien chuckled easily, but I heard the edge in the sound. "Nah, it’s just me here dad. I’m so tired.”

He let out a fake yawn.

“Do you want a drink?"

Victor hesitated. Then, he shook his head and flashed him a smile. 

"No. Get some rest. You will have a big day tomorrow at the office. We need to talk about those old accounts." His tone carried weight, like a threat wrapped in fatherly advice.

"I will do that." 

Damien's voice stayed cool, and his shoulders stayed rigid until Victor had backed out and clicked the door shut.

Silence fell heavily, broken only by the soft lap of pool water outside.

I exhaled shaky, stepping out from the shadows. "That was close. What the hell, Damien? If he caught us—"

He turned fast, pinning me against the wall again, body flush with mine. 

"He didn't." 

His hand slid down my sides, his gentle teasing fingers tracing the curve of my hip slowly, deliberately. 

“He will never either.”

Heat bloomed where he touched, that slow burn reigniting despite the fear. "But you like the risk, don't you, my little slut? It gets you wet."

My eyes bulged.

“What the fuck?”

He shrugged.

“No I don't.”

My eyes rolled in their sockets.

I shoved at his chest, but my hands lingered on the hard muscle, feeling his heart race just like mine.

"Stop. This isn't a game. That file—what are you really here for? Debts? Syndicates? You are using Victor's dirt against him?"

His gray eyes darkened, his roaming hand pausing on my thigh. He leaned in close, lips brushing my ear. 

"Smart girl.”

I shivered in anticipation.

“Victor is buried deep in bad deals from laundering money through the company. He also has ties to rivals who would love to take him down." 

His fingers inched higher, underneath the waistband of my leggings, teasing the edge of my panties. "I am here to expose it. Or exploit it. It depends."

Dread twisted in my gut at his words. But his touch? It sent warm sparks lower, making my core clench. 

"Exploit him? How exactly?” I paused to catch my breath for a bit. “For what Damien? Is it power? Or money?"

He pulled back slightly. Those gray eyes were searching my face. What hung between us was tension.

It was thick as fog. 

"Revenge.”

That one word left me cold.

“He shipped me abroad after my Mom died, as if I was trash. He left me to rot while he built this empire on lies." 

His voice roughened. I could not ignore the vulnerability flashing in his eyes as he spoke. It was rare. 

"Now I shall take what is his—this stupid business, the control." 

His hand dipped down and cupped me through the fabric, his fingers rubbing slow circles right over my clit. 

A moan escaped my lips. The pleasure hit me softly, building gradually. 

His fingers shifted the side of the panties aside and sought flesh. Teasing my warm wet opening.

"And you."

I gasped, hips bucking involuntary. 

"Me? I'm not yours." 

My mouth lied. 

But my body could not. The truth was the wetness soaking through me as his fingers pressed firmer against me.

Emotions warred inside me. There was pity for his huge pain, and also the fear of his now marinating betrayal. 

Not to mention the filthy want I was feeling for this dark handsome man who had easily stolen my innocence and could now claim my soul.

"You are." 

He kissed my neck slowly, his teeth grazing the mark he'd left before.

“You are wet. I will only listen to your cunt, Slut. Your pussy doesn't lie.”

He curled his fingers deeper. A thick guttural main slid out of my throat.

"You have been mine from the start. Ever since that night with you in the lounge—your first time. Your cunt tight around my cock, and you, begging." 

His free hand just yanked my tank top down, exposing my breast, his thumb coming up to circle the nipple hard.

I moaned low, the slow burn turning to fire. "Say it, Elara. Say you're mine."

"No," I whispered.

That was bold, but I was breaking. 

His fingers slipped deeper inside of my wet pussy now. And I was dripping all over his fingers, curling slowly. 

Ecstasy built torturously inside of me while my walls fluttered around him. It was dark romance coded with every touch—possession, pain, passion.

He added another finger, pumping my cunt lazily, thumb rubbing my clit. The pleasure nearly blinded me.

"Deny it all you want, sister. But your pussy weeps for your stepbrother." 

He was grounding his huge hardness against my thigh. His cock was thick and ready, promising more. "I'll fuck you right here, fill you deep like before, and make you scream my name."

I clawed his back, chasing the edge that his fingers promised. But he just slowed down, edging me cruelly. 

"Please," I begged, hating the need in my voice. But I needed this.

He smirked with a dark, triumphant look sitting in his face. He then pulled his hand out, slick with cunt juice. 

"Taste yourself,” he told me after he had brought the fingers to my lips. “Di you see how bad you want this?"

I nodded. Then, I sucked them clean, the salty liquid with shameful eyes that were just locked onto his. 

The plot drove forward in my mind—his revenge could destroy Mom, the life we had built. But here, in this moment, I craved the ruin.

"Tell me," he growled, unzipping his pants slow to free his hard cock. It was thick, veined, dripping pre-cum. 

My mouth watered.

He stroked it lazily, rubbing the big tip against my soaked leggings. "Who owns this virgin cunt now?"

"You," I breathed. My voice was starting to break. "You do."

He groaned and pushed my leggings down till they dropped to the floor. I stepped out of the material.

Damien grilled my leg and began to lifting my leg around his waist. The tip of his fat cock nudged my entrance, teasing for a slow entry. 

"Good girl,” he said. “Now you shall take your stepbrother's cock."

My pussy clenched around nothing.

“You shall scream my name as I pound into you without any sort of pity.”

I swallowed. 

He gripped his cock and began to guide himself towards my cunt.

But a phone buzzed—his. He had left it lying on the chair. He cursed under his breath, glancing at the screen. 

His face hardened. 

"Fuck."

"What?" I panted. My pussy was still throbbing around the emptiness.

He pulled away, tucking himself into his pants quickly. 

"It is business.”

I raised a brow, and the look that followed us met me understand.

“It is about that syndicate contact. The one you know I'm digging."

Fear spiked real now. 

"What does that mean?"

His eyes met mine. There was a cold, gray promise living in them. 

"It means war's coming. And you are automatically in it with me." He kissed me hard, then whispered, "But first, tell me—do you trust me?"

The question hung between us there, serving to drive the betrayal deeper. 

Trust him? 

The man ruining us?

Maybe not.

"I..."

Suddenly, there was a crash outside and the sound of glass breaking? 

Then voices followed—Victor's concerned shout from his house.

Damien tensed. 

"Stay here." He slipped out, leaving me exposed, my heart racing.

I fitted my legs into the leggings and began to drag it up slowly.

But then his phone lit up again with a new message flashing: 

"We have proof on the girl too. You either back off, or she pays."

Proof on? What girl? Me?

The door burst open and a shadow figure—not Victor—entered. "Damien Blackwood? We need to talk."

My scream caught in my throat. More because I was half naked. My leggings were still bunched around my thighs.

"Who the fuck are you?" Damien's voice boomed at the stranger who turned, gun glinting in the light. 

"The end of your family."