đź–¤ Chapter 2: You Don't Say No to Me by C Amara Vale
From the novel: Owned by the Devil
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Zara sat in silence, every muscle wired for war.
She'd been moved to a different room — if you could call it that. It was more like a damn showroom: black marble floors, velvet walls, mirrors in gold frames, and a massive bed in the center, dressed in blood-red silk.
The only door had a biometric scanner.
No handle.
No lock from the inside.
She was trapped.
And it pissed her off.
She paced the room like a caged animal, ignoring the dress laid out on the bed. Tight. Red. Barely anything at all. It looked like sin stitched into satin.
Then she heard it.
The click of the lock.
The slow, quiet hiss of the door sliding open.
Damien Orlov walked in like he owned the world.
And her.
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She crossed her arms. "If you think I'm wearing that dress—"
"I don't think," he interrupted. "I give orders."
He tossed something onto the bed.
A collar.
Black leather with a silver tag.
Her name was engraved on it.
ZARA — PROPERTY OF D. ORLOV
She stared at it like it had teeth. "You're out of your damn mind."
"I warned you." He walked slowly around her like a wolf circling prey. "You entered my world, little thief. Now you play by my rules."
Zara's voice dripped defiance. "Your rules can burn in hell."
He stopped behind her.
So close, she felt the heat of his breath against her neck.
His voice was soft.
Too soft.
"Do you know what I do to things that belong to me but disobey?"
She turned, fire blazing in her eyes. "I'm not yours."
His hand slid around her throat, firm but not choking.
Just… enough to remind her he could.
His mouth brushed her ear. "You will be."
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He pushed her gently, and she stumbled back until her knees hit the bed. The collar stared up at her.
"Put it on," he said.
She didn't move.
He leaned closer. "Last chance."
"I'd rather die."
He smiled.
Then grabbed her wrist and spun her around, forcing her down onto the mattress, her stomach pressing into the sheets. He yanked her arms behind her back and secured soft cuffs around her wrists.
She thrashed. "You sick bastard—!"
But he was calm. Collected. Dangerous.
"You're brave. I like that. It'll make breaking you more satisfying."
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She gasped as his hand slipped beneath the hem of her shirt — not cruel, not rough.
But slow. Controlled.
His lips grazed the back of her neck. "You want to hate me, but your body knows the truth."
"Go to hell," she hissed.
"Darling," he growled, "I brought hell with me."
His hand slipped lower. She bit back a moan.
Damn him.
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He didn't push further. Didn't strip her or take her.
He whispered one thing before standing.
"I'll give you tonight to decide: wear the collar, or wear the cuffs while I make you beg."
Then he left.
Door locked.
Silence again.
Only her breath remained — shallow, fast, and completely betrayed by her own body.
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END OF CHAPTER 2
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