Page 156 of Captive Ruin

“I’ve never slapped—” His eyes narrow. “Is that what you desire?”

“No, of course it’s not what—”

His mouth covers mine, cutting off my words, forcing a kiss on me I didn’t expect nor want. His tongue pushes in, seeking mine, fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face to him.

It’s not the roughness or the suddenness of it that makes me catch my breath, it’s the groan he makes, like there’s nothing he wants to taste more than me. I open to him before I’ve even realized, eyes fluttering closed, my tongue responding.

“There you are, Little Stray,” he mutters. “God, I’ve missed you.”

He trails kisses down my neck like a man possessed, then brushes aside my blouse and nips at my collarbone, sharp teeth finding delicate skin. The pain is mild, but I cling onto it, wanting more. It grounds me, letting me feel, pulling me back from the dissociation I’ve let myself grow accustomed to.

I need more. More pain, more pleasure, more touch, more him. I need to feel again, and never have I felt as much as when it’s him doing it to me.

My back arches, shoulders pressed into the wall, hips pressing forward to rub against his leg, seeking the friction I need. I set the bottle on a table without looking, not caring that it catches the edge and falls off, hitting the carpet and rolling beneath. My fingers pull at his shirt, wanting to feel bare skin.

“Lukas…” His name falls from my lips.

And he stops. His forehead presses against mine, he draws a ragged breath, then he steps back. Releasing me.

“What?” I ask, incredulous. “I call you ‘Lukas’ and you… fucking stop?”

“I… need to go.” The words sound like they’re dragged out of him. But I don’t care how he’s feeling, not when he’s about to abandon me again.

“You need to go where? What’s so important?”

“Westchester. Bastien… the Company… a meeting.”

I stare at him. “Dial. In.”

His lips twitch. “Not that kind of meeting.”

I shake my head. “You know what? Fine. Go do your work. It’s fucking fine.”

He growls low in his throat. “Don’t push me, Little Stray.”

“Just tell me one thing. Why did you even kiss me if you couldn’t see it through?”

“I… didn’t mean to.” He sounds pained. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“You? The great Van Wyk, losing control?” I laugh at the idea. “Preposterous.”

He steps in close, wrapping me in his arms, and I can’t help but tense. “I’ll be back late. Very late. Just… stay here where you’re—”

“Your next word better not be safe.”

“Safe is all that matters.”

“Is it?” I push against his chest, trying to get away, but his arms tighten, biceps pressing into me. “Fuck you and your safe! I’m miserable here, don’t you get it? You’ve stripped me of my life, my freedom, everything! You’ve locked me in a goddamn cage!”

“To keep you alive and well.”

“By imprisoning me? By abandoning me?”

“I was out protecting you—”

“It. Doesn’t. Matter.” Why can’t he understand? “I didn’t want your protection, I just wanted you.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his hold loosening. “Wanted?”