Chapter 3 – The Burning Wait

Time inside this suite becomes something viscous and cruel.

Minutes stretch like hours. I no longer know if thirty minutes or three hours have passed since the door closed with that final click. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 23:47, but the black sea beyond the panoramic windows offers no clues. Only the constant rocking of the Noel Imperial reminds me that we are in the open ocean, far from everything and everyone.

My wrists burn against the black silk. The skin is already reddened, hot, and sensitive. I stopped pulling on the ropes a while ago—every attempt only makes the pain and humiliation worse. Now I just breathe, naked, exposed, my body still vibrating with the arousal they deliberately ignited and then abandoned.

The air conditioning blows cold over my damp skin. My nipples remain hard, almost painful, rubbing against the satin sheet with every movement of the ship. Between my legs, the throbbing is constant, pulsing, and unbearable. I squeeze my thighs together tightly, but that only sends bigger waves of frustration through my core.

I’m not going to beg.

The sentence repeats in my head like a useless mantra.

I think about Matthew. My beautiful boy, eleven years old, with his father’s dark eyes and the easy laugh that can light up any room. He has no idea that the man he idolizes as “Uncle Zion” is actually his biological father—a secret I’ve carried like poison for years.

And what if my father finds out? If he learns I’m trapped here, naked and at the mercy of the three of them? If he discovers that the same men he’s been threatening have finally captured me? The thought freezes me from the inside. He would use it. He would use Matthew. He would use everything to destroy me once and for all.

A new wave of rage mixed with panic washes over me. I swallow the sob. I won’t cry. I won’t give them that satisfaction, even if they’re not here to see it.

My father surges in my mind even stronger, as he always does in moments of weakness. His messages still arrive, venomous and constant. Short phrases that remind me of what he did—first when I was a child, then as an adult, on that terrible night after the beach. The darkest secret I’ve never had the courage to fully tell Zion, Luka, or Elias.

The silence in the room is oppressive. Only the distant hum of the engines and the occasional creak of the ship. Their scent still lingers in the air—whiskey and leather, sophisticated cologne, something hot and masculine. I breathe it in against my will and my body reacts immediately, a fresh trickle of arousal slipping between my thighs.

“Damn you,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

I hate how much my body recognizes them. I hate how much I still want them after everything I’ve been through. I hate knowing that even tied up and humiliated, a treacherous part of me is waiting for the door to open again.

And then it does.

The lock turns. My heart races so hard it hurts.

They enter together, coordinated as always. Zion leads, carrying a silver tray with fruit, cheese, chocolate, and ice-cold water. Luka follows with a bottle of red wine and three glasses. Elias closes the door and leans against it, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching me with that silent intensity that always undoes me.

Zion stops at the foot of the bed and smiles slowly when he sees me.

“Look at the state you’re in… flushed, sweaty, furious, and dripping. I can smell you from across the room.”

I turn my face away, refusing to look at him.

“Go fuck yourself, Zion.”

Luka lets out a low laugh as he pours the wine.

“We’ve done that for years, love. Now it’s your turn to decide if you’re going to keep fucking yourself… or if you’ll let us help.”

Elias sits on the edge of the bed without saying a word. His large hand slides up my leg, slowly moving along the inside of my thigh until it stops just inches from my sex. He doesn’t touch. He just hovers there, teasing, feeling the heat radiating from me.

“How much longer can you hold out, Maeve?” he asks, his voice deep and calm. “We’re in the middle of the ocean. No one is coming. Not your father. Not your pride. Only us.”

I pull on the ropes, feeling tears of pure frustration burn in my eyes.

“You’re monsters.”

Zion picks up a ripe strawberry, bites into it slowly, and lets the juice run down his chin.

“We are,” he agrees, licking his lips. “But we’re your monsters. And you, princess, are ours.”

Luka brings the glass of wine to my lips. I turn my face away in anger. The red liquid spills down my chin, slides along my neck, and trails between my breasts.

Luka follows the path with hungry eyes.

“What a waste…” he murmurs, lowering his head.

His hot tongue licks the wine from the valley between my breasts, slowly, deliberately. I gasp, my entire body trembling against the ropes.

Zion kneels beside the bed and runs the cold fruit over my right nipple. The contrast between the chill and the heat of Luka’s mouth pulls an involuntary moan from me.

“Still want to bite?” Zion taunts, his black eyes locked on mine. “Or would you rather we give you what you really need?”

Elias finally touches me. Two thick fingers slide through my soaked folds, opening me, circling my swollen clit with unbearable slowness.

“Say it,” he orders, his voice low and relentless. “Say you want us. Or we’ll leave you like this all night.”

I clench my teeth, my whole body shaking with rage, desire, and deep shame.

Silent tears slide down my face.

I am their captive.

And the cage is only just beginning to close.