04: You’re My Whore

KILLIAN

She stirred. Her lashes fluttered like she was trying to blink away a nightmare, but the real one was sitting in a chair across the room, watching her.

Alexa.

It would take a while getting used to not calling her Seraphina, her original name.

She looked small in my bed, wrapped in the pristine sheets, her body bandaged and bruised. But not broken. Not yet.

That part comes later.

Her breathing quickened. Pain must've caught up with her, because the moment she tried to move, she gasped, reaching instinctively for her shoulder, wincing hard.

Good. Let her feel it.

She needed to remember that pain.

Her eyes snapped open and found me.

I was still dressed in my black shirt which was stained with blood from shielding her. The bleeding wound soaking the fabric near my side had dried, but it throbbed relentlessly. I hadn't treated it.

Not because I couldn't.

But because I'd been too caught up with the view before me.

She stared. "You're bleeding."

"So are you," I said calmly, sipping wine from the glass I'd poured just before she woke up. "Though I'd argue I could've handled it more gracefully."

Her gaze darted to the nightstand. The contract still lay there, untouched.

"What is this?" she asked hoarsely, nodding to the papers.

"A choice," I said. "Something most people don't get with me."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You think this is a choice? Marry you or die?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Are those not the stakes you're used to, Tesora?"

Her lips parted. She wasn't used to being seen, cornered and caged without the illusion of control.

And yet she still moved toward me, limping carefully. She reached out, her fingers ghosting toward my shirt.

"Let me see it," she mumbled.

I didn't flinch. I let her unbutton my shirt, one snap at a time. Her hands shook. She was trying not to show it, but I felt every tremor.

She pulled the shirt open and froze when she saw the gash beneath. It was jagged and raw.

"A little messy," I murmured, watching her face. "They caught me off guard.“

Her brows furrowed. "Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"

"Oh sweetheart," I drawled. "I told you. No one touches what's mine."

"I'm not—"

"Yet," I cut in. "But you will be."

She looked up at me, and for a second, I thought I saw it...a flicker of the girl I used to know. But she didn't remember. She didn't even know the depth of what she owed me.

Not yet.

"Why me?" she whispered.

I smiled seductively. "Because you fascinate me."

Because you ruined me.

Because your betrayal is still the scar I wake up with.

Because making you need me before I destroy you is the only form of justice I believe in.

"Drink," I said, handing her the glass of wine I hadn't touched. "You'll need it before you read the contract."

She hesitated. Then took it.

Good girl.

She didn't ask again why I saved her. Or what the ledger was.

She would sign.

She would submit.

And then, she would pay.

All without ever seeing the knife until it was already at her throat.

"You're lucky this didn't kill you," she murmured, dabbing at the blood with a cloth.

I smirked, letting her tend to me like she hadn't once left me for dead. "Death doesn't come for me so easily, Tesora. It's smarter than that."

She flinched slightly at the nickname, but I watched her lips soften, just a little.

I leaned back, my eyes locked on her as she worked. So careful. So gentle. As if she hadn't already carved my heart out once.

"I don't get it," she whispered after a while. "Why would someone risk everything to attack me over some... ledger?"

I shrugged, "You're a valuable piece, even if you don't know why yet."

She stared at me. "Piece?"

"In a game," I said softly. "And trust me, darling... you're on the board now."

She swallowed hard, but I saw the flicker of defiance in her eyes. That same fire. That same fight.

God, I hated how much I missed it.

"You're insane," she whispered.

"Probably," I said. "But let's not pretend you didn't just agree to marry me."

"That was me chasing after my own survival."

"Oh?" I leaned forward, catching her wrist before she could pull away. "Then why do you look at me like you're still deciding whether to run... or beg me to kiss you?"

Her breath hitched. My thumb brushed the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse jump.

"Let go of me," she whispered.

But she didn't move.

I leaned in, my lips grazing her earlobe. "Say please."

She pulled back like she'd been burned. Good. I wanted her shaken.

I wanted her exactly where I had once been...

confused, furious... addicted.

"You don't even know me," she said, standing on trembling legs.

I rose too, towering over her. "Oh, Tesora. I know exactly who you are."

Just not in the way you think.

I walked past her, grabbing the contract from the table and tossing it onto the bed.

"You have three hours to sign this. After that, the next attack won't end with a rescue. It'll end with a coffin."

I paused in the doorway, glancing at her. "And Alexa?"

She looked up.

"When I make you mine, I won't need a signature to own you."

Then I disappeared into the dark, leaving her to wonder if the real danger was the enemies who'd tried to kill her...

...or the man who'd just saved her life.

And was planning to ruin it in return.

....

I'd just stepped out of the shower when I heard the knock on the door. I lowered the fresh bandage I'd grabbed, intrigued.

"Come in," I said, and the door creaked open. Alexa stood there awkwardly, the contract in her hand. Now this was interesting, was this what people called muscle memory?

I was so sure I'd never given her the direction to my room. Yet, there she was.

She strode in, shutting the door behind her. She looked confused and frustrated. And a little drunk.

"What is this? Why does it state that you own my body too?" She demanded, waving the file at me.

"It is exactly as it says," I responded, and she stormed towards me, slapping me across the face, hard.

I scoffed in amusement, redirecting my gaze at her.

"You're becoming my wife both privately and publicly, Tesora. Surely, you're not going to deny me that, are you?"

"I'm not a whore!" She thundered, and I grabbed her by the waist, pulling her flush against me. She gasped, her nipples brushing against my chest through the light fabric of her dress.

"But you're my whore," I said, the corners of my lips lifting smugly.

"I'd rather die," she spat. And my smirk dropped, my expression hardening.

"You know what? Playtime is over."

I shoved her backwards, letting her stumble onto the bed with a gasp. Then I reached under the pillow.

Her eyes widened when she saw me pull out a gun from under my pillow.

I tossed the contract beside her, the pen resting atop it.

"Sign it."

"Killian—"

I pointed the gun at her head.

"I said... sign it."

Her hands trembled as she took the pen, her eyes locked on mine. Her fear warred with her fury, but neither would save her now.

She bent forward and scribbled her name with shaking fingers.

Alexa.

My future wife.

I moved behind her, then I leaned down and pressed a kiss just behind her ear where her pulse throbbed frantically.

"See?" I murmured. "That wasn't so hard. We didn't have to go this far, Tesora."

She whipped around, aiming to knock her elbow into my side, but I caught her wrist midair and twisted her down onto the bed, beneath me.

"Still such a bad girl," I growled, straddling her hips, holding both her wrists in one hand above her head.

I brought the gun to her jawline, tracing its cold metal along the delicate angle, down the curve of her throat.

She whimpered.

Her nipples peaked against her dress as I continued, dragging it lower, between the valley of her breasts, resting it there.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Lust clouded her wide eyes now, mixing with panic. A dangerous cocktail.

"You're mine now," I said darkly. "Legally. Privately. Publicly."

She panted.

"You'll be a good girl," I whispered, tilting her chin up with the barrel. "And you'll wait until our private wedding tomorrow. Hmm?"

She didn't answer.

I lowered my lips to her ear. "Say yes."

"...Yes."

I released her, rolled off, and stepped back. "Run along now, wife."

She scrambled off the bed and bolted out of the room.

...

The next morning, I was standing in front of the mirror, buttoning my crisp black shirt when my phone buzzed. I grabbed it off the nightstand and saw a message from Ethan, my right-hand man.

'She's gone.'

A slow smirk curled across my face. I adjusted my cufflinks and met my own gaze in the mirror, amusement dancing in my eyes.

"I do love a good chase," I uttered, my smirk widening.

Let the games begin.