His cool voice cut me off, “I swear to god, I will fucking bash in my brain to shut you up if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
I was taken aback for a second until I looked into his eyes. Even as he was looking at me, they were lost, distracted. He had to be talking to one of the voices, and because of the threat, I was betting on Cal. “Cal, quit it.”
Cezar’s eyes went wide before they changed, locking on me with a vice grip. A quiet intensity blooming inside the pupils, his attention as unwavering as the pull of gravity, almost gasping out loud from his intensity. No man had ever looked at me like that, and I'm starting to wonder if I ever will.Would I miss it? Would I crave it if it was gone?
Grabbing his hand, I smiled. “Does this help?” He nodded slowly, and I continued. “Do you know what I want to do? I want to play a game. Do you have any cards?”
He hesitated momentarily, looking down at my hand, gripping it like he never wanted to let it go again. “Yes. Let me find them.” Scooting off the bed, he stood up and went to the door. Turning to adjust the pillow, a set of inky arms circled me. “Now, be a good girl this time and stay still.” The beat in my pulse skyrocketed, enjoying his words entirely too much.
“Or don’t,” his arms slid away, and I instantly missed them until his fingers captured my chin, and he tipped my face up to his. “The game will just change to fly and spider, and when I catch you, you’ll be wound up so tight you’ll beg for release.”
My tongue swiped out along my bottom lip, feeling that heat coil deep in my belly as I looked at this green-eyed devil. “You're making it hard for me to want to be a good girl.”
He got closer, his lips a light caress against mine, “Whatever you choose, I’ll follow. You, my Roma, look best free.” His lips pressed against mine with the lightest pressure before his fingers slipped away from my skin, and he was gone. When I came back to my senses, the door was closing shut behind him, and I knew I was fucked.
Now the question was, who’s crazier? The man who talks to the voices in his head and kills people for a living, or the woman he kidnapped falling for his crazy ass? At this point, I had no idea.
I reached next to me,finding the bed cold and empty, and my heart jolted. I sat up, surrounded by darkness, trying to feel around for Cezar, and when I didn't find him, I thought back to what I remembered us doing last.
Cezar returned with the cards, and we played games for the rest of the day. He beat me in Gin Rummy, but I got him in Speed. I taught him the game Crazy Eights, and after a few games, he started to beat me. He then grabbed us something to eat, and I started to yawn. Then, we went to sleep.
“He’s not here, pretty lady.” The voice slithered through the darkness, and a warning sign flashed in my head, telling me something wasn’t right. My breath hitched—low and drawn out like I’d been holding it too long. Every nerve in my body screamed that I wasn’t alone. My fingers fumbled for the lamp, heart hammering as the bulb flickered to life.
Light burst from the night table, spreading only a small circle around me. A dark shadowy figure kicked off from the corner of the room. The air shifted around violently, and my gut sank.
The figure stepped forward, light unraveling the darkness surrounding him to reveal Ion. Shadows covered pieces of his face, making the edges of his jaw and nose look sharper, holding his traditional beauty, making him more menacing.
His eyes flicked to the side before lifting his arm. A half-drunk bottle of something clear in his hand came up to his lips, and he gulped it like water. Swiping at his mouth, his eyes glazed over, unfocused as he stepped forward.
“Missing him?” A crooked smile formed along his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. “I don’t think that's fair when you never gave me a shot.”
Something was off. This wasn't his normal cocky swagger that I’ve come to know, and if I were a gambler, I would say he knows how to hold his liquor and when to stop before he gets sloppy, which means something happened to push him to this point.
Moving to stand, my leg got caught, and I looked down to see the rope around my ankle again. My body tightened, hands turning into fists as the air left my lungs like a punch to the gut. Did… Did Cezar put it back on me? Where was he?
The bed bounced as Ion slouched next to me; the bottle was on the floor, and when his hand slid up my thigh, his eyes followed the trail his fingers made. “Cezar was a bad boy. He forgot to lock the prisoner back up, so I did it for him. I was a good brother. How about you pat me on the head?”
The sharp scent of alcohol clung to him like a second skin, his eyes finally meeting mine up close. Those normally full-of-himself kaleidoscope of brown, blue, and green hues were dull and haunting. “What's wrong, Ion?”
“What's wrong, baby?” His laughter jagged and hollow, a desperate attempt to outrun the shadows pooling behind his eyes, and I scooted back. He followed me, scooting forward as he put his hands next to my head, boxing me in between him and the bed. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I noticed Cezar leaving, telling me he would sneak over to your place to get you some of your clothes to make you feel more at home.”
Ion bent down closer, my heart pounded harder, and while fear paralyzed my body, the odd part was the calm undertone that told me he was hurting, and I needed to figure out why. This wasn’t him…or was it?
He slammed the palm of his hand into his head hard enough for me to wince. “That's when it hit me!” His gaze came down to me; a hunger filled those autumn leaf eyes. “Before you tell him all your deepest, darkest secrets, you must taste the other merchandise.” His finger ran down my neck, and he licked his lips. “You need to know what it feels like to be fucked by someone who knows what they are doing. Then you can choose…” his face lowered, those lips that I had found tempting brushed against my ear, “who you want more…but I know it will be me.” His hand turned into a fist as he slammed it against the bed, causing me to yelp as he growled more to himself than me, “It has to be me.”
Shit.
Twisting his head, his lips brushed against my neck, leaving a wet trail in its wake. “I promise. I can make your body sing.”
The heat of his body sunk into mine, his heavy breathing blew against my skin, and I finally understood what people meant by blending fear and lust. Not having time to dissect that little kink, I kicked myself into gear; I shoved at his shoulders with the heels of my hands, trying to slide out from under him. His hands gripped mine, shoving them over my head with a tightening grip.
“Let. Me. Go. Ion.” I yanked against his iron grip, realizing he was too strong, but I kept trying anyway, hoping he would realize what he was doing.
He inhaled deeply against my skin, whispering so low I could barely hear him. “Don’t fight me. Just love me,” and he continued kissing down my body, tightening his hold on both my wrists.
The room felt smaller every second, the walls closing in on me. “Stop,” my weak voice shook, “Ion, please. Please don’t do this.”
He stopped kissing me, putting his forehead on my chest, gulping down air like he couldn't get it fast enough. “Where is that sass, that fire?” His head lifted, his hands wringing my wrists painfully. “Curse at me, yell at me, tell me I'm worthless. That I’m just a whore.”
