“You know...” His hot breaths tickle my cheek as he speaks in a dark, chilling tone. “If it were anyone else, I would’ve finished you. Is that what you want, Elsa? Hmm?”

I try to squirm free with the remaining energy I have left.

He tsks and squeezes harder, stopping all my movements. “What did I say about acting smarter? Are you choosing to be a pawn?”

“Uh… ungh…” Unintelligible sounds escape my throat as my energy fades away.

“I can still destroy you.” He licks the side of my cheek, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “So don’t fucking tempt me.”

The shadows cast an eerie cloak on his face. He’s like an unmovable stone. Nothing will stop him.

No one.

The fear I ignored all this time crashes into me. I’m like that wave hitting the rock and dying a slow, excruciating death.

How could I ignore this side of Aiden?

He’ll break me. If he chooses to, he’ll crush me and watch as I disintegrate into pieces.

I thought of him as a cliff before, and cliffs are unmovable.

Cliffs are where people go to die.

Tears fill my eyes as I stare at his shadowed face with no breath coming in and out of my lungs. I’m so lightheaded that I think I’ll faint, but I swallow my tears.

I promised myself that he won’t see me cry again.

Not now.

Not ever.

Aiden removes his hand from around my neck, easing the pressure. But he doesn’t release my mouth.

I suck in greedy breaths through my nose, and it comes in like wheezes as if I’m breathing from another place.

“You dolled up tonight.”

His words are razor-sharp, meant to cut.

I knew his caveman side wouldn’t like that and I did it on purpose.

Because the best way to win against Aiden is to play his games. I thought I was above them before, but that only kept me as a pawn that he can use and kill off whichever way he chooses to.

Steel blood runs in my veins. I wasn’t born to be trampled on.

My brows furrow. Where did that thought come from?

While I’m lost in my mind, Aiden traces a finger over my breasts and down my belly. He’s not teasing. No. His touch is downright sinister.

“What were you trying to prove, sweetheart?”

Obviously, he’s not expecting an answer since he keeps his hand firmly locked over my mouth.

It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to hear my voice.

My nails dig into my palms the lower his hand travels. My lungs burn, and I realise it’s because I’ve been holding my breath.

Without a warning, Aiden yanks my dress up my waist and thrusts a harsh hand between my legs.

I close my thighs together, but he slaps them apart, making me whimper.

“Did you dress up for him, hmm?”

I meet his stare in the dark with my own. He’s a shadow and it’d be a lie if I said he doesn’t scare me, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting him walk all over me.

Strength would never work with him, but I have another weapon.

I slowly nod. Several times. He didn’t ask that question to get an answer, but I’m giving it to him, anyway.

Yes, I dressed up for him.

I never dolled up for Aiden, but I dolled up for Knox.

It’s a fuck you to Aiden.

He can force me.

He can show me his worse, but he can’t control my feelings.

Or at least the feelings I show.

Because deep down, that damned part that got me into this whole freaking mess still yearns for his touch.

For his wild possessiveness.

For his uncontrollable madness.

His fingers tighten around my sex.

I wince, trying my hardest not to fall for the sensation.

Not to fall for his dark deep hole.

Because the thing about Aiden?

He draws you in and before you know it, there’s no way out.

Before you know it, you feel like a joke.

Like the pawn that’s out of the game.

He yanks down my boy shorts and I cry out against his hand, kicking my feet in a helpless attempt to push him away.

He thrusts a finger inside me, and I close my eyes against the intrusive sensation.

“Hmm, you’re not soaking today.” He thrusts another finger as if punishing me. “Why aren’t you as wet as usual, sweetheart? Do you feel wronged?”

I glare up at him with all the maliciousness I have inside.

“I told you,” he whispers in a chilling tone. “You wronged me first.”

He works his thumb on my clit, and a needy sound claws its way out.

“Maybe I need to remind you who you belong to, huh? You look like you need a reminder.”

He scissors his fingers inside me and flicks my clit over and over.

And over.

My eyes roll to the back of my head. My back arches against the bed, causing the ropes to dig deeper into my wrists.

I want to run, hide, and never return.

But my body doesn’t recognise the need for survival.

It doesn’t even try to see the danger Aiden represents. It’s still enchanted to his touch, to the way he knows all the buttons to push in my body. To the way he works me up like I’m a marionette.

Because that’s all that I’ve ever been to him.

While I was falling and being an idiot, he was playing me like a marionette.

A pawn on his board.

A little insignificant pawn.

He thrusts his fingers inside me harder and faster. The brutality and my chaotic feelings draw a sob from my throat.

It’s like he’s punishing me. He’s making me fall to his will by using my body.

And I do fall.

It doesn’t even take long for the wave to hit me.

My lower abdomen contracts. My back pushes off the bed, only to be pulled down by the ropes.

My nails dig into my palms so hard that I’m sure I’ll draw blood.

I come with a sob, my chest heaving like I’m about to have a heart attack.

I don’t even notice when he removes his hand from my mouth.

“That’s it,” he murmurs near the corner of my lips. “Break for me, sweetheart.”

I do.

I just do.

Tears fall on my cheeks and my heart aches so much that I can’t breathe or speak.

Aiden leans over and like that first day at senior year, he flicks his tongue on my cheek and licks my tears.

He takes his sweet time tasting them before he licks my bottom lip and bites it into his mouth.

“Good girl.”

 

 

8

 

 

Aiden

 

 

I knock the white queen with the black king.

Hmm.

It feels good to knock down queens.

I lift her up, let her stand proudly in the middle of the board, then I knock her down again.

It doesn’t feel as good as the first time.

This is how addicts feel. It’s almost impossible to recreate the first high, but they keep chasing it anyway.

I should’ve known better than to run after an imaginary high.

The light goes on in the lounge area, and I blink.

Jonathan stops at the entrance. He’s wearing black trousers and a button-down. A mug of coffee hangs from his hand. He’s probably pulling an all-nighter. I’m surprised he didn’t stay at his company’s office.

His eyes narrow on me.