Blood Ties by Lana Sky

Chapter Seven

“I’m not talking about sex, either,” he clarifies, lowering his gaze to my mouth. “You seem to enjoy that. I’ll take pleasure in learning what it is you don’t enjoy, as soon as I grow tired of hearing those pretty little moans of yours.”

My cheeks sear, and the despair I feel is enough to drown me—but not yet. This time, I won’t go down without a fight. I’ll drag him down with me.

“You can do them,” I rasp, “Whatever vile things you can come up with in that sick brain of yours—and know that with every vile act, I’ll hate you more and more. Not that you’ll care about that. But then you’ll have to wonder, Domino. You’ll have to compare every scream and cry to every night I’ve spent with you, and you’ll realize just how damn good of an actress I am. Because every ‘pretty little moan?’ I’ve been faking them all this time. Why?” I force a laugh that has his nostrils flaring. “You truly believed that a brute like you could ever really get me off? Keep dreaming.”

The lies assuage my aching pride, and his darkening expression makes toying with him in this way worth it. No matter how violent he is, or how much he claims to hate me, he’s still susceptible to the same weakness as any other man.

Male pride.

“Sell me if you want to, you bastard,” I add, hissing through my teeth. “At least then I might experience what a true orgasm is before I die—”

He grabs me by the throat, and I swear I see my entire life flash before my eyes. And what a sad, pathetic excuse for a life it truly was. Who was Ada-Maria Pavalos in the grand scheme?

Just a memory, the daughter of Roy. No one special enough to make her own mark on the world. Merely a tiny blip on a much bigger picture.

Men like Domino and my father make lasting impressions without even trying. They destroy the lives of those weaker, leaving destruction in their wake.

I wait for the violence in his touch—for the suffocating ache of my throat being crushed in his fist. Instead, he strokes his thumb along my windpipe as a lethal, gentle reminder of the damage he’s capable of.

“So bold without your papa’s shadow to hide behind, Ada-Maria,” he taunts, but I can tell that beneath the mocking amusement is genuine curiosity. “That smart mouth has many hidden talents, though I strongly suggest that you reconsider which attributes might help extend your life a little longer.”

“Why?” I ask in a tone that resembles a wail more. A whine. “I have nothing left to live for.”

Except trying to preserve what small shreds of freedom I can claw back from him.

“You’ve taken everything.”

“Everything?” The shift in his inflection is my only warning before he spins me around, putting my back to the railing. With his gaze boring directly into my own, he uses his grip on my neck to steer me back.

Back…

The metal rung digs into my lower back, but he keeps going, forcing me to bend against it. My heart lurches as I scramble for purchase, gripping the barrier on either side of me with both hands. Already, a sheen of sweat disrupts my grip—it will be child’s play for him to shove me over entirely.

Kill me.

But, at least for now, his eyes lack any murderous intent.

“Everything?” he wonders softly. Viewing him from below, the harsh lines of his face are even more starkly beautiful in contrast to the way the moonlight glints off his skin. Soft, overhead light bathes everything on the terrace in a gentle, orange glow. The hue reflects off his eyes—he’s on fire.

“There are so many things I deliberately haven’t taken from you, Ada-Maria,” he tells me. “Yet.”

He releases my throat, and I writhe to pull myself upright. But he doesn’t fully withdraw, forcing me to balance awkwardly, practically sitting on the railing while he blocks me in with his sheer bulk.

“Do you want to know why I put that feeding tube down your throat myself?” His eyes trace the line of my throat, skimming over my breasts to fixate on my heaving stomach. “Do you?”

His tone is persistent, though I’m too stunned by the abrupt change in subject to come up with a fitting answer. “W-What?—”

“I wanted you to have meat on that ass so that when I take you there, I’ll have something to grab onto.”

I blink, shocked by the coarse, blunt word usage as much as I am by his tone. Real emotion breaks through the level baritone, rousing a fear I’ve never felt before. He isn’t angry or trying to scare me. He is dead serious.

“I needed you stronger,” he adds, sliding his fingers against my jaw before cupping my entire cheek against his palm. “The things I have planned for you, Ada… You’ll need all the strength you can get.”

My mind goes blank as my fear builds to the point that I can taste it—fire, salt, and blood.

“First, you offer to save me,” I croak. “And now, you threaten to hurt me.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He drags his gaze up to mine, and I find his eyes devoid of a hint of sympathy or guilt. “I am a man of many talents,” he confesses. “However, I never said that you wouldn’t enjoy what I plan to do you. Oh no, Ada, I think you’ll enjoy them very, very much. So much so that we can put your little theory to the test. How good of an actress are you?”

He laughs, leaning in so that his face is directly beside mine, his eyes on my throat.

“One could say I’ve become a connoisseur of the sounds made by Ada-Maria Pavalos over the years, and I have to admit that if you were faking, your acting skills have grown remarkably from over a month ago.”

Was that the last time he watched some sordid recording of me?

I don’t feed into his narrative outright. Instead, I meet his gaze and choke down the crippling unease warning me not to tangle with him. I should keep my mouth shut, or better yet, run.

Instead, I say, “What you think you heard, you’ll never hear again. At least not in person. If you’re still planning on selling me after all, then maybe you’ll get lucky while I’m with my buyer. He might even let you watch.”

His eyes narrow, and a jolt of alarm shoots down my spine. Careful, Ada. You’re on fragile ground. “I don’t think you’ll enjoy making the sounds he’ll wring from you, Ada-Maria.”

He.The way he voices that word carries such vitriol that I know he’s not referring to some nameless man in general. No, he has someone specific in mind.

Licking my lips, I hazard a guess, “Jaguar?”

“You…” Voice rumbling, he lowers his head, and his hair falls forward, shrouding his expression from view. “I think you’ll want to be very careful with what you say next...”

I shiver, but I’m too tired to fight. The longer I maintain this precarious balance, the less fearful I feel. Why not just let him push me over? At least I’ll be in control of my life for those final few seconds. No one can manipulate me anymore.

And yet, I can’t resist one last jab, aiming to get under his skin any way I can.

“I’ll ask him to record it for you,” I murmur, arching my back, so that my mouth is near his ear this time. “And I’ll make whatever damn sounds he asks me to.”

He lunges.

A scream builds in my throat, but I don’t even have the chance to voice it before he withdraws his support from me completely. I slip as my fingers lose their grip on the railing. In a heart-stopping jolt, I pitch backward.

At the same time, his hands latch onto my hips, anchoring me down. Rather than push me over, he sinks to his knees, wrenching my thighs apart.

A new kind of fear has me croaking, “D-Don’t!”

Not that he heeds the refusal.

Unconcerned, he snatches up the hemline of my dress, exposing me to the warm night air. I shudder, trying to clamp my knees together, but he’s too strong, utilizing brute force to keep them spread. Then his head lowers…

I squeeze my eyes shut, praying that he won’t do what his position implies he might. Every muscle in my body goes rigid in grim anticipation as I feel his breath graze the innermost parts of me.

He breathes in. Out.

In and out.

I think he’s toying with me on purpose, heightening the tension until it’s electric. Unbearable. The folds of my pussy burn, exposed to his heat. Nerves explode, even without the aid of his touch. It’s a cruel, pulsating sensation.

“S-Stop—”

“I could have you begging me to fuck you.” His voice is a grated rasp—as if every word is being torn from the darkest parts of his brain. Those fantasies he’s barely even aware of. “I could. I could have you screaming for me, gushing like a fucking geyser. I’d make you choke on every last word you’ve said.”

The warmth basting my pussy turns hotter. Sweltering. I can’t stop myself from writhing, wanting to pull away.

Get closer…

“But I won’t.” All at once, he stands, wrenching me down from my perch. His grip on my shoulder is the only force keeping me upright. My knees are wobbling, my legs jelly. “You want to know why? The world doesn’t revolve around Ada-Maria’s pussy.”

He lets me go, forcing me to grapple for the railing to find my balance.

Dazed, I watch him re-enter the bedroom as his voice reaches back to me. “Decide if you plan to waste my time or not. You only have one chance to earn my trust. If not, I’ll drag you to Guarida del Tigre myself, and believe me when I say that I will watch, Ada-Maria. But I don’t think you’ll enjoy yourself half as much as you seem to think you will. Jaguar’s world won’t be as kind to you as mine has.”

When he’s gone, the impact of his words resonates like a gut punch. Dejected, I sink to my knees, still gripping the balcony, my eyes on the shadowed landscape below. I’m terrified of what might await me; I truly am.

I’m more terrified, however, by the prospect of what his “protection” entails. Something tells me that Domino Valenciaga has a warped concept of the phrase. The last thing on earth I should strive to gain is his trust.

And yet…

I don’t have a choice.

It’s either him or the unknown, and—at least for now—I’d rather take him.

If only to be the one to push him figuratively overboard in the near future.