All Chapters of His Forbidden Muse: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Running has become my habit. It grounds me, reminds me of monsters chasing me. My thoughts are erratic mess and so is my breathing when I step out the car. My unstable steps stumble me forward many times if it isn’t for the kind guard who stabilises me.I stand in front of our porch, catching my breath, steadying myself and press a shaky hand to my heart. Stop beating so loudly. Please, I can’t handle it. It’s too much. It’s confusing how my heart’s palpitations grow even stronger and out of beat as if it wants to escape through my chest and fall on the ground waiting for someone to step on it and crush it, so that it’d stop beating.I close my eyes and tilt my head back at the sky, letting the warm evening sun give me some heat. Burn me. Turn me into ashes.The sun beats down my closed lids, like deceptively embracing the trembling soul in me. I’ve never liked sunny days, they’re too bright and warm for a person like me. The one who has always been compared to its brightness. And the

“How did you get my number?” I hiss stepping further into the shadows of the curtains, my back presses against the cold wall and I try to calm my enraged breathing.“That’s not the point, I asked you something, bambina. Were you expecting someone else?”“What do you want?”“Now, that’s a loaded question.” Massimo breathes through the phone like he’s lounging on a throne of blood and sin, indulgent in the power he holds over me. “For now, I want you to come out.”Those words.I stiffen. “I can’t.”“Can’t? Or won’t?”I grit my teeth. “Both.”There’s a beat of silence but I can hear his smirk through the phone. And the invisible noose around me is tightening by the passing second I hesitate.“Careful with your words, sweetheart. You’re my girlfriend.”My skin prickle. It’s not affection. It’s definitely a brand. A leash of warning.I straighten my spine forcing steel into my voice. “You forced me into his. You are not my boyfriend.”He tsks and that decadent sound scratches my earlobes.

Hell has a door, and tonight, I’m walking her straight through it.The tires screech against wet gravel as I pull up to the warehouse like a beast returning to its lair. But I’ve never good at listening, to reason, rules or pretty little things with stormy eyes and trembling lips.She sits frozen in the passenger seat like she’s holding her breath. Like breathing might encourage fate to screw her harder.“Out.”She doesn’t move. Of course she doesn’t. Princesses aren’t used to being ordered around without a security detail or a butler waiting with a fucking mint.So, like the gentleman I am, I oblige.I round the car, jerk the door open and haul her out by her soft wrist. She gasps, stumbles like she’s forgotten how her legs work.“Where the hell are we?” She pits all attitude and zero leverage.I grin, and she flinches. “Welcome to the jungle, sweetheart. Where men bleed for sport and boys cry when their designer shoes get dirty.”Her lips part as she looks up at the looming warehous

Rox’s body is barely recognisable now, hunched and stumbling with more bone and blood than the man himself. His knees buckle with every step, skin split open in places flesh shouldn’t be exposed. He looks like a cracked porcelain doll someone tried to stich with fists instead of gentle hands.Massimo stands in front of him, as glorious and terrifying I’m afraid for Rox.The skin has torn from his knuckles too, but it’s just rage. But he’s no more grinning or smirking.He looks… terrifying and otherworldly.Like sin sculpted into his face, hair sweat-drenched and wild. There’s something feral in his stance. A stillness that makes my pulse roar.The crowd is still mayhem.“Look what you’ve done,” Someone hisses as I feel something sharp on my skin. Turning around, I find Sienna standing close to me with her nails digging into my flesh as stares at where Massimo is. I wince. “He was perfectly monstrous until you came along.”I blink at her. “What are you saying?”She finally turns to me

His blood is on my hands and so is her lipstick. The combination is art.I stare at the steering wheel, knuckles still burning from the impact, adrenaline still jerking in my veins like a live electricity. She’s besides me, clutching onto her clothes like her life depends upon it. Like an wounded animal, exactly how I feel.And I haven’t moved.Not for the last ten minutes. Not even looked at her.Because if I look at her, I’ll ruin her again. I’ll fuck her. I’ll make her cry again. And I don’t know if that’s a warning or a promise.She’s silent, not crying anymore. Breathing too softly, afraid the sound might provoke the monster.Me.I light a cigarette with hands though should be in cuffs. I never force women. Fuck. Why does she have this affect on me?The smoke curls in my lungs like penance.Because I can’t look at her right now. I don’t want to remember the way her soft lips split when I pressed too hard. The way her legs trembled when I made her take all of me, even when she b