04: The devil

Lilith

Rayne De Luca had to be out of his god-damned mind.

"Don't fucking come near me, you perv!" she snapped, backing away from him.

He smiled. The man freaking smiled at her like she was some kind of amusement show.

"Are you not going overboard, Lilith? Do you want to deprive me of a basic need of a man and woman in a matrimonial union?" he asked.

He shook his head and then started to walk towards his car. "Follow me."

It was just one sentence, but her feet moved in an instant, following him like a lost puppy. She grit her teeth, hating herself for succumbing to his authoritative stance.

When they got back to the house, Betty was at the door, her face drenched in tears, and Lilith felt sorry for putting her in trouble. But thankfully, Rayne did not give her a second glance because he was more focused on dragging slash pulling Lilith into the room for whatever reasons best known to him.

She only hoped it was not what she was thinking.

Rayne did not take her to her room. It was the room opposite hers they entered, and he turned the lock on the door.

One moment she was standing in the middle of the room, the next, he pressed her against the wall, towering over her. His hips leaned into hers as his right arm rested high over her head, caging her in. His warm spicy scent enveloped her. The sensation was overwhelming… and terrifying.

"You do not want a kiss, how about you get down on all fours, my sweet vixen?"

Her ears piqued in shock. She risked a glance at him and gone was her amused husband, in his place was a part of him she did not recognize. There was something burning in his gaze as he stared at her — lust.

She was trembling under his scrutiny. He stepped away from her.

"I do not like to repeat myself, Lilith, so do as I say if you do not want to see what I would do to you for not listening to me."

She could take the yelling and the whips anytime, but this? Did she even have a choice now? After all, her Father knew what he was doing when he made her and not Riya the sacrificial lamb.

So she listened to Rayne, and went on all fours, feeling the shame wash over her like ice water.

"Good girl," he mumbled. "Now take off those clothes, they are a nuisance."

Her hands shook as she reached for her zipper, tears pricking at her eyes. She had never cried since she turned twelve, even when her Mother and Father spent years assaulting her both physically and mentally. She never cried, but right now, her dignity was being stripped off from her and she could already feel the broken her emerging again, yet what was this anxiousness she felt to see the look on his face when she took her clothes off?

She thought she was going insane.

"Take them off, sweet vixen," he insisted impatiently.

Sweet vixen. At least that was more better than princess.

He lowered himself to her level for the second time that night and proceeded to run his fingers along her shoulder. His hands were almost painfully patient, agonizingly sensual and she wanted nothing more than for them to never leave her body.

Her own body betrayed her and she shivered at his touch.

"You like it, don't you, vixen? You like the idea that my body burns for you right now, don't you?"

Would she be stupid to say she liked it even as much as she hated it?

She reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it off at one go, her heart hammering against her chest. She licked her lips as she watched how his gaze zeroed in on her body that was now clad in only her bra and underskirt.

His breath fanned her neck. His lips skimmed her cheeks before finally crashing down to claim her mouth.

He was kissing her.

Her husband was kissing her.

She balled her hands into fists, stilling herself as she tried to twist away. With a growl, he clasped her jaw in his hand and pushed back.

"Let me in, vixen," he commanded.

This time when his head reached down to claim her lips again, she had no choice but to open up as the tips of his fingers pressed to the side of her face, taking possession.

His tongue dueled with hers while his free hand reached to cover her breast, squeezing hard. She yelped at the contact, feeling sizzles of desires ripple down her body.

This was wrong.

This was all shades of wrong. Why did her body betray her own thoughts like this? She pulled away, gasping for air, clinging to him even as she yearned to be let off.

"Tell me, sweet vixen. Tell me how you want me to punish you for disobeying me."

"You are sick," she spat out.

A cold smile spread on his lips at her words. "Maybe. Maybe not, but that does not change the fact that you are stuck with me."

She watched as his eyes flashed with unmistakable want, his possessive voice ringing in her head. She realized she was stuck with this man whether she liked it or not.

"What do you want to do to me now?" she asked carefully, feeling the cold air blowing on her bare skin, earning a shiver from her and reminding her that she was still kneeling half naked before him like he was some sort of deity.

Is he not?

"You ask like you can handle anything. Can you handle it, sweet vixen?"

"How do you think I have survived in a Mafia family all these years if I cannot handle anything?" she retorted sharply, holding his gaze.

He scoffed. "You are different."

"Different is unique," she answered.

"Get up," he commanded.

Confused but grateful, she rose to her feet wondering what was next on Rayne's agenda for her. She did not expect what he said next though.

"Go pack your bags, my sweet vixen. We are going on our honeymoon."

She froze.

"Excuse you?"

"You did not think we would not have one, did you?" he smirked. "What expectations did you have of me, Lilith?"

She frowned. "I never had any expectations of you, Rayne De Luca."

"Such a shame, my dear wife, because I did have my hopes up about you."

She licked her lips, all too aware of his dark scrutinizing gaze roaming over her half clad body.

"Now run along, vixen. We leave for Paris tomorrow morning," he said with a tone of finality.

She faltered. She should have known that he was the devil and he already bought her soul.

---

The devil does not bargain.

The next morning met her in front of her canvas instead of getting dressed to go to Paris for her honeymoon. Her worst decision, right? But one could not take the sudden inspiration out of an artist when there was an urge.

Black and red paints stained her hands as she finished the final stroke on her new piece. Slashes of red like knife cuts stained the edge of the canvas, and then the sunlight seeping in through the window caught sight of her piece — the dark face of a man.

A man who shall not be named. It was the first time she had painted a face and this reality disturbed her.

A sharp knock resounded on her door as she gathered her art supplies and neatly arranged them at a corner of the room.

She went to open the door, flinching when she came face to face with Rayne.

"You are not dressed, Lilith," he said, regarding her with his signature cold stare.

She took out the paint brush she had stuck in her hair to hold her braids up in a bun as she walked back inside, ignoring him completely. It was a stupid choice to ignore Rayne, but her stubbornness sometimes made her do stupid things, and she had already vowed not to let this man play her down.

It was like a game, where Rayne and she were the players and no matter how smart he pulled his cards, she had to stand strong. She had to play smarter.

"You know how much—"

"How much you hate it when people don't listen to you?" she cut him off with a wave of her fingers. "I know that, dear husband. But you never for once asked me what I hated?" she continued.

Rayne stared at her with a look she could tell was disbelief. "What?"

"Oh right," she shook her head. "No one has ever spoken to you in this manner before, have they?"

He blinked, gaping at her like she had grown two heads. "You—"

"Did I make you speechless? I hear I always have the power to bring even the strongest man to his knees."

She moved closer to him, feeling overwhelmed at his height and how easily he dwarfed her, but nonetheless holding her stance. "Do you think I can bring you to your knees, Rayne?" she whispered.

His palms were on her neck in an instant. She would not say she never expected that. He was swift as he switched their positions, so that her back was to the wall and she was forced to look up at him with his second hand placement on her jaw.

"You like to run your mouth, don't you, sweet vixen?" he growled, his eyes a darker shade of brown.

She trembled. Perhaps she should not have pulled his legs, but the daring Lilith Russo inside her would not willingly allow herself to be authorised by a man, especially one that was a De Luca. The thought alone unnerved her.

"I thought we had a common ground on that?" she shot back.

Rayne's fingers reached for her mouth, his thumb callously running against her lips while his eyes held a smoky glint in them. "If we had a common ground I would know. I do not make deals that would not benefit me," he said.

"Certainly," she answered. "Which is why I am curious as to what this marriage is all about, and what you would gain from making me your wife."

His frown morphed into a dark chuckle. "You do not want to know. Now you have only twenty minutes to meet me downstairs, or else I promise not to be very nice when I carry you out of this place even without your consent," he whispered harshly.

She gulped, catching her breath. She guessed she had entered into a cold war with her husband, and they were just getting started.