Falling for the Villain by M. Robinson

CHAPTER FOUR

Donovan

Everything about her was perfection, even with all the fallen pieces of her hair that stuck to my hands—I wanted her.

She was different.

This was different.

I knew it the moment I saw her for the first time. She was too pure, without the darkness like the sins I carried that had stained my soul. Oftentimes I wondered what it was like—walking around in this seedy world without the darkness looming and the heaviness dragging. It was my initial attraction to her as much as I didn’t want to admit to it, but then again, nobody ever really does. Seeing something shiny, beautiful, untainted, I couldn’t imagine anything more tempting than corrupting her, breaking her down to the barest of bare, stealing some of that goodness for myself, and then showing that same pretty little thing that the only reality that existed was the one you’d created for her.

A tear slid down her cheek, followed by another as she tried to crawl into herself, wrapping her arms around her knees like that would somehow protect her from my wrath. If anything, it attracted me even more, sending a bolt of lust through my body so strong I had a hard time exhaling.

I coaxed, “We’re not finished yet,” my voice heavy with desire.

She looked up at me through crystal blue eyes. “Why am I here?”

My smile was cruel, imagining the way I would lick those tears from her face, only to redden her body with my belt and create them all over again. Maybe I’d collect them, her tears, so I could stare at them in a glass bottle and remind myself and her that I controlled everything.

Even the number of tears that fell from her eyes.

“You’re here”—I moved toward the door, waiting for the guards to open and hand me what I needed next—“because I want you to be here. It’s really quite simple, pet.”

“My father will never—”

“Let’s leave your father out of this. You’re here because I will it, just like you’re alive because I want you to be. From here on out, you live for my pleasure only.”

Her eyes flashed.

I hid my smile, and finally, the door opened with the guard giving me the bottle of dye. Her eyes widened when she realized what I was holding.

“Grab a towel.”

“But—”

“This isn’t a negotiation,” I snapped. “Grab a fucking towel, kneel in front of the bathtub with your head bowed, and wait for me.”

She looked ready to murder me. Good, I loved it when they fought. Sometimes, too much.

At my words, she slowly got to her feet. Her hands shook, whether in fear or something else; I didn’t know and really didn’t fucking care. Eventually, she’d crave me in unfathomable and unforgivable ways. Her lean legs carried her into the bathroom, and I watched in anticipation as she knelt in front of the bathtub, her knees on the towel, her short dark hair in a tattered mess below her ears.

I’d allow her to fix it later. For now, I needed something.

Desperately.

I waited longer than ten minutes, testing her to see if she’d rebel, talk back to me, or even stand up thinking I’d forgotten about her. Still, she knelt. She’d be sore from sitting in that position. Meaning she’d welcome the reprieve when I allowed her to stand; she’d thank me and hate me at the same time.

A little bit of pleasure.

A little bit of pain.

They go hand in hand when turning someone into a pet for a collector—only this time, I was training her for me. Not for anyone else.

Just me.

I leaned over her and turned on the faucet. Once it was ice cold, I shoved her head underneath the water with one hand and disclosed, “I prefer blondes.”

Water sputtered out of her mouth from cascading down her face.

“You like this,” I simply stated, gripping her by the hair as her nipples hardened. “Even if your mind refuses to give up the control, your body craves the comfort of pain; want to know why, Juliet?”

“No.” She clenched her teeth. “You’re a monster.”

“I try.” I grinned down at her chest. “I wonder if you’re as wet between your thighs…”

Captives always tried to appear strong—most of them broke before they even realized what was happening, and she’d be no different.

“Bow your head,” I instructed.

She slowly did as I asked. I shook the bottle before spilling it over her roots, using my hands to pull the color down the short length of her hair. Something about seeing her bent over in submission, something about her flawless tears as I erased her identity had me so turned on I couldn’t fucking think straight.

“Why?” she asked again.

I stared her down, unable to actually get the words out without sounding fucking weak. I saw you and knew I’d have to kidnap, claim, fuck, and heal you.

The memory of the last pet I had and trained for another man quickly appeared through my mind.

“He’s waiting for you at the end of the hall.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “At least tell me you got a good price for me, Donovan.”

I shrugged. “You weren’t a virgin, but the price was still fair.”

“Did you ever,” she screamed. “Did you ever even love me?”

This wasn’t the first or last time a pet would fall in love with me. It was just part of the process. I ignored her questions.

Her lips trembled. “It was real, all of it; I know it.”

I shook my head slowly and leaned forward, pushing off the doorframe.

“It was all to train you for another man, someone better; you’ll see. You may have been mine, but, Catarina, I was never yours. Understand?”

She looked ready to throw her body at me. “You’re, you’re—”

“I was never your master, which is why you don’t address me as such. Your owner is waiting for you, and I wouldn’t keep him waiting, pet. The last thing you want to do is show him you have no training. I won’t punish you, but he will. My job here is done now.”

“I hate you! Do you hear me? I fucking hate you!”

I hated myself too sometimes, however, not for the same reasons. No, I hated myself because I needed the violence in order to experience a sliver of love. After all, that was what happened when you grew up locked in closets and watching your mother die right before your eyes by a man who was supposed to love her. My father. In the end, I killed him too. Not for her; I did that for no one but me.

You see, the true monsters of the world were the ones that hid in plain sight like saviors when they were nothing but sinners in broad daylight.

I shook away the memory. “Keep this on for twenty minutes. I’ll set a timer.”

“Where are you going?” A panicked expression crossed her exotic features.

With a smirk, I palmed the front of my pants and showed her what she did to me.

“Unless you want me to fuck you right now, I suggest you let me leave.”

She barked out a bitter laugh. “Oh, now you care about what I want?”

“Careful, pet. You don’t want to continue speaking to me like you have a right to, or else I’ll have to remind you again why you don’t. Are we clear?”

“You’re just imagining all the ways you’d love to make me cry, make me fight, make me hate you. I bet that’s why you’re hard just thinking about it.”

I almost groaned in pleasure then realized what she was doing. She was playing with fire. How fucking adorable. Leaning down, I tilted her chin up toward me.

“One day, you’ll be on your knees begging for my touch, my tongue, my cock.”

She jerked away. “Doubtful.”

I smiled, despite wanting to take her over my knee. Pressing my lips against her shoulder while my right hand snaked around her neck, I squeezed.

“Since you’re so fucking adamant on having me punish you, then touch me, Juliet.”

“No!”

I gripped harder. “Touch me.” I grit my teeth. “Feel what you do to me.”

“You’re a disgusting, miserable human!” Her eyes flashed in an invitation I couldn’t resist.

With a wicked grin, I jerked her chin between my fingers and whispered, “I’ll allow your disrespect this one time, but don’t think I’m not keeping score. Next time, I’ll beat the disrespect right out of you. And trust me, pet.” I didn’t hesitate. “I’d much prefer it that way too.”

Juliet

Iwanted to be my own hero. My own savior. The woman I was raised to be.

Brave.

Strong.

Intelligent.

Instead, all I kept thinking about was how my cruel captor smiled at me, like he knew a secret I didn’t, like he knew me better than I knew myself, which was frankly terrifying.

Something in his gaze felt familiar, but the more I stared, the more I was sucked beneath his monstrous spell.

I couldn’t break.

I had to stay strong, especially when it came to his full lips and angry comments. “Who hurt you? Who made you this way?” But I figured he wouldn’t tell me even if I held him at gunpoint.

The dye was starting to make my scalp itch as I stayed on my knees on the towel, staring at the plain white ceramic tile, wondering how the hell I got on this man’s radar. Clearly, I wasn’t some ransom. I had so many questions but knew asking them would either get me further punishment or him further aroused. Either way, I was screwed.

My tears dried up out of necessity. He seemed to like it when I cried, so I made myself a promise that I wouldn’t anymore, that I’d stare straight ahead and do what he said until I could escape. Until I could free myself from him or kill him. Whatever came first. Minutes passed as I wondered if he truly was touching himself. When the sick bastard returned to the bathroom, he was the vision of serenity, controlled, neutral.

I didn’t know which one was worse, his calm or his storm…

“Bend,” he muttered so low I nearly missed it as he gently held my head beneath the faucet and washed the dye from my short hair.

My stomach sank, looking down at the drain. My old life was being washed away, and my captor was holding me like it was a comfort when it was everything short of a nightmare.

I immediately tensed.

“They may as well be your sins, Juliet…”

His breath was hot on my face, his lips touching my ear with little zaps of pleasure that made me hate myself.

“Look at the old you being washed right away, and imagine how much more empowered you’ll be now that you know who you are.”

“I’ve always known who I am,” I said through a clenched jaw.

“No.” He ran a finger down the back of my neck. “You were in a cage… I just set you free.”

I had nothing to say to that other than he was a sociopath and a liar.

“I was happy.”

“You weren’t.” He continued caressing the back of my neck with one finger. “I saw you first when you were eighteen. You were playing a concert for a very well-known family in the greater Seattle area. It was Christmas, and you wore a red dress. Every man in that auditorium was pulled under a spell only someone as talented and beautiful as you can create, myself included. You left your heart on that stage, on those piano keys, and I swore to myself I’d never let you be that vulnerable again unless you were by my side. Your father looked right through me that night, and I went home clutching the program with one hand and touching myself with the other, imagining your soft curves, the ruby red lips that matched your dress—you were mine before you even knew it. And now you’re mine for good.”

I felt ready to puke, swaying on my knees. “If that’s who you fell for, then why change me?”

“Such a simple question.” He pulled me to my feet. “Such a complicated answer. You weren’t allowed to dye your hair, were you?”

I gasped. “There is no way you could possibly know—”

“You wanted to cut it at one point, just like you wanted to take ballet lessons, just like you wanted to play the piano professionally. You see me as a monster, putting you on a pretty shelf. I see myself as the one man who knows how to let you be.”

He pulled me back against him, his lips on my neck. “I can’t wait for the day when you look up at me with those gorgeous eyes and say thank you. And truly fucking mean it. Not just because you think I’ll beat your ass if you don’t … which I will.”

I would not cry.

I would not give in.

I simply froze while he held me, wondering why my heart was beating so fast.

“You’ll see. I’m never wrong, especially when it comes to you.”

I bowed my head. “You don’t even know me,” I whispered under my breath.

He grabbed my chin, making me look up at him.

Smiling, he argued, “I know how to make you come. The rest is irrelevant for now.”