Chapter five—First touch.

Rea's POV

"What do you want?" I choked out, "I'd do it." desperation laced into every word. Tears followed, blurring my vision all at once. There was just one thing about tears: they know how to betray me. I hadn't wanted to sound weak. Time was slipping away. I needed to get home before dawn.

"Shhhh." He pulled me closer, tighter, ran a hand down my cheeks, and wiped the tears streaming down. "Now that's not the kind of bravery I saw at first." His face moved slowly over mine, his face almost touching mine, his lips hovering over mine, his breath warm all over my face. "Show me."

"What?" I blinked, painfully confused. I hated this turmoil. How I felt. One minute, I was terrified; the next minute, curiosity was gnawing at me. Does he want to kiss me?

"Show me you can make me let you walk out of that door—"

My lips parted instantly as I leaned closer than ever, and he kissed me instantly like he wouldn't live the next day if his lips weren't on mine, and I kissed him back with the same desperation—desperate for two things: to settle my curiosity once and for all and a fervent wish to please him. Maybe then... I could finally get to walk out of that door... with the wolfsbane.

He ripped off the cords used to bind my hands faster than even a knife could. Seconds later, I found myself pinned against his marble wall. My bones creaked, straightening after several hours of being bound behind my back. I breathed, relief washing over me—but not for too long. He tugged my winter trousers, teasing the bands briefly before sliding them down in one swift motion and tossing them carelessly aside.

I hadn't worn a thong that day, so the moment my trousers got yanked away...he found me bare. Wet. My cheek burned crimson as a hot wave of embarrassment crashed over me.

He grinned. Head low, focused on my cl*t. "Is that how you walk around without panties?"

I bit my lips and smiled, gasped again, teetering on one foot, feeling my cl*t clench instinctively around his fingers as he plunged in.

My hands flew instinctively around his shoulders, digging into his skin and hair. Every second thinned the line between panic and desire. "I wanted this too," I told myself, and I believed strongly: if he's satisfied, if he's pleased, then maybe he'd let me go. And with that, I'd finally be able to give Dad a cure for his illness.

"You clench like you've come here for this?" He muttered against my earlobe. My eyes squeezed shut, feeling his rough hands press against my throat. "Knew you were up to no good the moment I caught your scent."

Before I could catch my breath, he lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing and placed me on a vinyl gym bench. My pullover vanished in seconds, my legs instinctively spraying open. He was on me in seconds, his full length burying inside me, my hands thrown above my head as he pinned them in place with his iron hands. Brutal thrusts followed, rocking the entire bench.

Screams tore from me. "Ahh—yes—!" My legs dangled in the air until he had them folded around his waist. Every movement, controlling and consuming at the same time.

As his thrust got deeper and faster, his groans rattled the hush of the room, and my whole body trembled more, sharp cries ripping out from my throat until Daminen came with a growl. Then, he rolled off me, breath heavy, sweat taking lazy strolls down his whole body, leaving me gasping.

As he walked away, my gaze followed him, the way you do when expecting something positive—was he pleased? Could I risk telling him about the wolfsbane? Let me think about something close. Would he let me walk free? bound my hands and legs and threw me back among captives?

My heart hammered painfully against my ribcage, and I wondered if it wanted to jump out of my body entirely.

I wondered what the time would be by now. There were no clocks in sight. Thoughts of Dad clawed through my mind. Dad must have been so worried, Riley probably wouldn't be sleeping at all, and Mum must be panicking, close to getting a heart attack, not out of care, but out of fury that I was once again an incompetent daughter. But none of that worried me as much as Dad's.

I bit my lips as I tried to steady myself and watched Damien throw back on his pants without a word, like he didn't even see me at all. Eyes not even flickering to where I sat.

I swallowed, gaze narrowed, voice softening to nothing. "I need a wolfsbane for my father; he's dying."

He didn't respond; he just grabbed my discarded clothes—pullover, trousers—from the floor and flung them towards me like trash. I marveled at so many things about him, but how did they all fit in one fist? I stared with my mouth open.

The clothes came crashing on me all at once, the pullover slapping my face gently before landing on my chest while my trousers hung on my hair like a crown of nothing good but shame that refused to let go.

Humiliation cut sharp, awareness followed fast—I became painfully aware of my own nakedness.

"Put your f*****g clothes on." He said, flat and cold, venom lacing every word. His eyes were coldwhene when he turned and strode to a black ergonomic chair nearby.

I looked up at him slowly, blinking in disbelief, my hands crossing over my breast, covering what's left of my dignity. "Wait!" I managed, completely confused.

He paused halfway but went ahead and lowered himself into the seat.

"Don't you have anything else to say?"

"Sure." He replied casually. "I just said put your freaking clothes on and get ready to be thrown out of here, Rare."

"Rea." I corrected him for the second time, with a scowl.

He chuckled, and it cut through me like a knife pressed deep into my chest. He watched me like he finds everything about my existence funny. "Put those cheap clothes on, Rea or whatever you call yourself." He paused briefly, eyes burning into me. "Or would you rather let my men come in and see you this way? I mean... you have really nice t*ts."

I stopped listening.

At this point, I didn't care about what he said anymore; my head snapped towards the door, and then I heard heavy boots thudding in the hallway. My heart hammered loud against my chest as my eyes flickered between Damien and the door.

Damien leaned back casually, totally relaxed, like he hadn't just f****d me up in the worst way I could ever imagine.

I look up at him, and he just grinned. My throat ran dry as I searched his face for a flicker of warmth, pity, softness, or anything. Somewhere to begin because I had a lot to say. My stupid plans had failed because I was wrong; Damien was far worse than people think. He wasn't someone that could be pleased! Not by me. Not by anyone.

The air felt thick; my lips just parted, ready to argue or beg, anything that would change his mind, but words froze on my tongue; fury and disappointment gnawed on me, heavier than the words I tried to form. The type I felt was heavier than anything in the world.

The boots stopped at our door. Damien's men.

What now?

What is Damien planning?

I wasn't only foolish for thinking I could please the devil after an intercourse, but I just realized that I wasn’t about to leave Damien's mansion anytime.

Or maybe never.

Tears blurred my vision.

A knock rattled on the door.

Knock! Knock!