I scrambled for an excuse, but my mind was completely blank. He took another step closer, his shadowy presence pressing against me like a physical force.
“Maybe,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “you were hoping to be found.”
His voice did things to me. Heat pooled in my belly even as panic surged through me. I raised my hands defensively. “No,” I said quickly, but the desperation in my voice felt like a lie.
His dark eyes bored into mine. His breathing came fast and heavy, the bond thrumming with his rage, his frustration. I could feel it all, the chaos storming inside him, and it wasn’t entirely directed at me. He was fighting to keep something buried.
He placed his hands against the bookshelf on either side of my head, caging me in. I flinched, my body pressing back against the wood as his face came closer, his breath hot against my skin.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he growled. “You think you can just waltz in here, dig through my shit, and walk away unscathed? You think you have any idea what you’re messing with?”
His emotions bled into me through the bond, a volatile mix of anger and fear. Fear? No, it wasn’t fear—not exactly. It was shame. He didn’t want me here because he didn’t want me to know the truth about him, his ancestry, the monster he believed himself to be.
“Well, I already know what you are,” I spat, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “You’re a horrible, controlling piece of shit.”
I shoved against his chest, but he didn’t budge. His body was a wall of muscle, immovable and unyielding. I clawed at him, my nails raking across his skin in a futile attempt to get him to back off.
A dark smile twisted his lips, his eyes blazing with a dangerous light. “You want to fight me, Vivian?” he murmured. “Fine. But don’t think for a second that you’ll win.”
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “You’re going to learn,” he said softly, his tone almost hypnotic. “You’re going to learn what it means to follow my instructions like a good fucking girl.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, lust and fear coiling inside me. He grabbed my wrist and pinned it against the shelf, his grip firm but not painful. My breath hitched as his other hand trailed down my side, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
“Raffaele, you can’t just?—”
“Can’t just what?” he interrupted, his voice dark and silky. “Remind you to whom you belong? Teach you that my words are to be abided by?”
The bond between us flared, his emotions crashing into me with the force of a tidal wave. Anger, yes, but also want—hot and raw and impossible to ignore. And I hated myself for the way my body responded, for the way my breath quickened and my pulse raced.
“I hate you,” I hissed.
His lips curved into a cruel smile. “Hate me all you want. But you’ll still obey me.”
The bookshelf at my back felt like a barrier, solid and grounding, but it did nothing to stop the tremor in my legs. My fingers curled against the smooth wood to anchor me, but nothing could steady the whirlwind inside me—not when Raffaele was so close.
His shirt hung half-open, revealing the planes of his chest. His dark hair was a mess. But it was his eyes, those cold, calculating eyes, that pinned me to the spot. They blazed with a heat that mirrored my own. I sucked in a breath as he pressed even closer.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he growled. “Always testing me. Always pushing to see how far you can go.”
His words sent a jolt through me, sharp and cutting, but it wasn’t only anger that surged in my chest. It was something darker, more dangerous, something I hated as much as I craved it. He was too close, his scent—a heady mix of cedar, smoke, and heat—wrapping around me. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the ache pooling low in my stomach.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I spat, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “You’re not as important as you think you are.”
His breath fanned against my cheek. “You’re a terrible liar, Vivian.”
I turned my head away, but he caught my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His touch was firm, unrelenting, and I hated that it made me shiver. “Let me go.”
“Say it like you mean it, Vivian,” he said simply, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Say it like you mean it, and I’ll forget this ever happened. Tell me to stop.”
“Fuck you,” I snapped. I couldn’t tell him to stop. Why couldn’t I tell him to stop?
He smiled a knowing smile. “Oh, you will,” he said, his tone dark and dripping with promise. “But first, you’re going to listen.”
He released my chin, only to grab my other wrist and pinning it against the wall beside my head like the other. I dragged in a sharp breath, my body tensing as his mouth brushed against my ear. “Turn around, Vivian.”
I did as he asked, slowly, hesitantly. He pressed his body against my back, pushing my breasts into the bookshelf.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded.
