Chapter 7: Blood on the Desk

The dawn crept in, cold and merciless, bathing the penthouse in a pale, silvery light that only seemed to heighten Selene’s torment. She stirred at the low, mechanical hum of the elevator, heart thundering in her chest. The doors whispered open, and Enzo stepped through a vision in a sharp black suit, every button and fold precise, his dark hair slicked back in ruthless perfection. Under his arm, he carried a slim black folder, business cloaked in violence. His eyes, cold and hungry, found her immediately naked, wrists and ankles raw from their restraints, chained like a prized animal on display.

He paused, taking her in, the silence stretching taut between them. A slow, sleeting smile curled across his lips.

“Still eager for me?” His voice slid through the room, smooth as velvet, edged with steel. He stalked closer, never breaking eye contact, letting her see exactly how much he relished her helplessness.

Selene lifted her chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply. But the bond between them pulsed hot, electric, demanding its invisible leash tugging her closer, burning where it coiled low in her belly. Her skin prickled with the memory of his touch, her thighs pressed tightly together against the aching need he’d stoked and denied.

Enzo crouched, unlocking her ankle restraint. His fingers brushed her skin, lingering, his gaze drinking in the faded bruises and the slickness between her legs. “So stubborn,” he murmured, voice almost fond. “But you’re burning for me.” His hand closed around her upper arm, firm and inescapable, and he drew her to her feet.

He led her from the bedroom across slick marble floors into the study, a room thick with shadows and secrets, the very one she’d combed for answers in secret the day before. He settled into a massive leather chair, the folder landing with a soft thud on the polished desk. Without hesitation, he drew her into his lap, her naked back pressed to his chest, her legs parted and draped over his powerful thighs.

“Proper questioning time,” he breathed into her ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, his scent wrapping around her cedar, smoke, and something wild she’d come to crave.

His palm wandered between her thighs, finding the heat, his fingers sliding through her soaked folds. “Tell me about the silver arms,” he commanded, his tone cold, but the line of his body coiled like a predator’s.

Selene gritted her teeth, fighting the shudder that threatened to rack her. He pushed two thick fingers inside her, curling them expertly, unhurried, relentless. Each stroke sent sparks up her spine, dragged unwilling moans from her throat, but still she held her tongue.

“I revealed nothing before,” she managed, voice strained.

Enzo’s fingers hooked, pressing against that sensitive place inside her, his thumb circling her clit in slow, measured torture. “Wrong answer.”

He worked her methodically, driving her to the brink again, and again only to pull back before she could tumble over the edge. Her breathing grew ragged, hips betraying her as she arched into his touch, the need clawing through her defenses.

“Speak,” he whispered, nipping at her earlobe, his voice a dark promise. “Or this continues until you beg for mercy.”

Every caress, every brush of his skin against hers, sent the bond into a frenzy of desire, humiliation, and longing twisting through her veins. Selene whimpered, her head tipping back onto his shoulder, surrender and defiance battling inside her.

“I—I don’t know who supplied them. Only that my sire commissioned the arms, I swear it.”

Enzo’s pace quickened, his thumb flicking her sensitive peak. “Good girl. More.”

She gave him fragments of names she could risk, half-truths, always guarding her own. All the while, his hands played her like an instrument, coaxing pleasure and confession from her even as she tried to resist. The threat of discovery added a sharp, dangerous edge to her arousal, the guards outside, the open doors, the impossibility of privacy.

A sharp buzz shattered the intensity. The phone on the desk vibrated. Enzo answered, never pausing his unrelenting rhythm.

“Report,” he said, voice crisp, free hand never leaving her body.

Selene bit her lip to stifle a moan as he thrust his fingers deeper, the pads finding that spot again and again.

“Another assault?” His tone iced over. “Casualties?”

He listened, eyes fixed on her trembling body, watching her break apart in his lap. “Double security for the next delivery,” he ordered. “Find the traitor.”

He ended the call, withdrawing his fingers, leaving her desperate, aching, and undone.

“It seems your kin grow bold,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear, a threat wrapped in silk. “You will help me stop them.”

He bent her over the desk, pressing her cheek to the cool, polished wood, breasts flattening, rear raised and exposed. The desk’s surface was cold against her flushed skin, her chains clinking softly as she braced herself for him.

“Earn your place, little wolf.”

With one swift, powerful motion, he sheathed himself inside her, ripping a cry from her lips, pain and pleasure knotted together. His hips slammed against her, thrust after thrust, forceful, claiming, merciless. His hand reached around, fingers circling her clit, fierce and relentless, driving her higher.

“Give me more,” he growled, mouth close to her ear, teeth grazing her shoulder. “Who’s betraying me from within?”

Selene’s body trembled, her walls tightening around him, pushed to the edge by his brutal rhythm and the dangerous, searing pleasure. The risk—the chance of being caught, the fight for control, the wild, primal bond pushed her further.

“I don’t know,” she gasped, barely coherent.

Enzo drove harder, the desk creaking beneath them, his body unyielding. “Then I’ll fuck the truth out of you.”

He forced her over the edge once, then again, her cries muffled against her arm. Only when she was shattered and limp did he let himself go, releasing inside her, his hold fierce, her name a guttural command on his lips.

As the tremors faded and her mind cleared, Selene’s blood ran cold. Enzo hadn’t asked about the documents she’d photographed. He already knew. The sly curl of his lips as he pressed against her spoke volumes.

This had all been a game, a test, a trap, and the real contest had only just begun.