Chapter 8: The Price of Possession
Sera woke with a scream in her throat and sweat on her skin.
The brand on her hip still burned—raw, tender, marked.
Damien's arms were around her instantly. "Nightmare?"
She nodded, shivering. "There was smoke. Screaming. Blood on the floor."
Damien stiffened.
She looked up at him. "What aren't you telling me?"
He didn't answer.
Not until later.
Not until after he bent her over the sink in the bathroom, tugged her silk panties aside, and made her come with his fingers curled deep inside her—his other hand wrapped gently around her throat, controlling every breath.
He always told her the truth after he made her fall apart.
After she couldn't fight it.
And it worked.
He carried her back to bed, tucked her into his chest, and whispered:
"They tried to bomb my car last night."
Sera froze. "Valeria?"
"No. Someone else. I have enemies, Sera. Men who don't like that I'm getting soft. That I'm keeping a woman like you alive."
She sat up. "You think I make you soft?"
He smiled darkly. "No. I think you make me dangerous in new ways."
She kissed him—slow and deep. "Then let's be dangerous together."
That night, he took her again.
Against the cold wall of his war room.
While blueprints of the city's underground flashed across monitors behind them, he slid into her from behind, one hand gripping her hair, the other around her throat.
She gasped his name again and again, her body wrecked and her soul burning.
"Say it," he growled.
"I belong to you," she cried.
"Louder."
"I'm yours, Damien. No one touches me. No one lives if they try!"
He came with a roar, spilling into her as her body clenched around him—both of them lost in the fire.
When they collapsed, breathless and trembling, the monitors beeped.
A live feed appeared.
Valeria.
Standing in front of Damien's gates.
Holding something in her arms.
A baby.
Sera's blood ran cold.
Damien sat up slowly. "She's lying," he muttered.
Sera narrowed her eyes.
But deep down…
She wasn't so sure.