LOGIN“He pressed me to the wall with one hand tight around my throat, the other sliding beneath the thin silk clinging to my skin. I should’ve been begging for help. Instead, my knees went weak when he leaned in, his mouth hot against my ear. ‘Does it hurt, darling?’ he whispered. I shook my head, even as his fingers left bruises. ‘Good. I like it when you take it.’ God, I hated him. God, I wanted him to never let go.” A DARK, EROTIC TALE OF OBSESSION, HUMILIATION, AND HUNGER. They called him the Devil, a sadist with a crooked smile and hands built for breaking men. In the underworld’s most perverse auction, Luca Ruelle is nothing but trembling prey, sold for a price no soul should fetch. Silk-wrapped, bare, choking on shame and smoke, he should be praying for rescue. But Kain Astor doesn’t rescue. He claims, corrupts, and devours. He teaches Luca how it feels to be owned. How pain can bloom where fear lives. How pleasure is just another kind of cruelty. Every command is a dare, every punishment a promise. Under Kain’s hands, Luca learns the exquisite agony of surrender, and the terror of how badly he needs it. He should be fighting for his life. Instead, he’s sinking to his knees, eyes glazed, lips parted, whispering the one word that seals his fate— “Please.”
View MoreThe sudden, brutal cold of the glass against Luca’s back was the only thing that kept him from dissolving entirely. He didn’t drop the minuscule film strip; his fingers, stiff with shock, were fused around it, holding the truth so close it burned. He couldn’t look away from the yellowed image, the tiny, precise script that detailed the end of his world. J. Ruelle. The elegant, familiar flourish of the capital 'R' was his brother’s, absolutely, undeniably his. Not a forgery, his brother had signed his own death warrant.Luca slid down the window until he was sitting on the cold floor, knees drawn up to his chest, the vast, snow-covered mountains outside reflecting the blackness that had just settled inside his soul. He tried to think, to breathe, but his mind had become a useless, spinning void.He wasn’t murdered. The simple, devastating thought was the first to pierce the shock. Kain hadn't been a killer; he had been a facilitator. The Final Delivery wasn't an execution ordered by
The room went silent, the only sound the faint, distant crackle of the fireplace. Luca didn't move, couldn't breathe. His eyes were locked on the small wooden box in Kain’s hand, intricately carved, smooth with age. It was the music box his brother had always guarded. The one Luca hadn't seen since the accident.“H-h-how,” Luca whispered, the question dissolving into a choked sound.Kain held the box out, an offering or a weapon, Luca couldn't tell which. “I told you, Luca. I was there.”Luca's body moved before his mind did. He snatched the box, the wood warm from Kain's hand. He recognized the tiny scratch near the clasp, the way the lid settled unevenly. It was real. It was his brother’s.Kain watched him, his expression one of calm superiority. “It was recovered by my people. They managed to clean it up before the elements ruined the mechanism.”“N-none of t-this makes s-sense,” Luca pointed out, his voice shaking with a dangerous mix of hysteria and disbelief. He had just tried t
The car kept climbing. The engine's smooth purr was the only sound besides the ragged rattle of Luca’s own breathing.“H-how?” Luca finally managed, his voice sounding small and far away in the insulated cabin. He stared at Kain, who still looked straight ahead, effortlessly navigating the winding, deserted mountain road. “T-that was a l-long t-t-time ago. N-no one knew that. N-not even the p-p-people who found m-me.”Kain’s black eyes flickered to him, carrying a spark of annoyance at the interruption, quickly suppressed by a calm smile. “The night your brother abandoned you? It was a cold night, wasn’t it? The water freezes the air, and you shivered long after they wrapped you up. They thought it was shock. I knew it was the internal dread of the cold.”Luca felt a chill that had nothing to do with the altitude. He gripped the seatbelt. “D-d-did you… d-d-do you know my f-f-family?”Kain laughed, a soft, dry sound that brought the air conditioning down another ten degrees. “I knew wh
Luca was already awake when the first beam of sunlight crept across the bedroom floor. The light didn’t warm him; it simply announced the new day he didn't want. His thoughts had been spinning far too fast to sleep long anyway. The remnants of last night clung to him: Kain’s mouth, Kain’s voice, Kain’s claims. His body still remembered everything in heated flashes that made his toes curl against the sheets.Across the room, two maids moved quietly, folding and packing his things into sleek suitcases. His chest tightened.He was perched cross-legged near the headboard, blankets gathered in his fists, pretending he was just observing and not being prepared like inventory. “T-thanks,” he muttered when one of the maids placed a neatly folded sweater into a suitcase.She didn’t look up. Just dipped her head slightly, polite but distant, like she wasn’t allowed to acknowledge him fully. Luca swallowed, tongue heavy. Everything felt heavier today.The thought slithered in uninvited: Did
Luca remained inside Kain’s private office, the heavy, mahogany door muffling the sound of the tense conversation on the other side. He could still hear the low murmur of Kain and Bishop’s voices, polite, formal, deadly, but the words were indistinct. All Luca could focus on was the small, dark sm
Luca lay there, chest heaving and cock throbbing, staring at the empty doorway. His mind raced, caught between shame and anticipation. What was Kain doing? What was he going to do when he came back? The questions buzzed like bees in his head, making it hard to think. All he knew was that his body
Luca’s hand was shaking when it caught at Kain’s clothing, a weak pinch barely worth noticing. It wasn’t confidence driving the motion, just that tight desperate instinct that made him want contact even while every sane part of his mind screamed at him to push the man away. His fingers clung to fab
The clock on the wall clicked too loudly for such a quiet space. It was past noon now, and Luca had answered every email twice just to have something to do. Work, real, actual work, should’ve been grounding, a return to something normal, but instead the silence dragged at him. His fingers twitched






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