My legs carried me toward the mansion faster than my mind could process.
My heart was confused and exhilarated, beating against my ribs as though it wanted to escape and seek the answers, I didn't even know I was chasing.
Tame him?
As if Judas Romanovski could ever be tamed.
He was a storm-a force of nature that bent the world to his will, and here I was, fumbling to even keep my feet on the ground when he was near.
My thoughts scattered like autumn leaves when I rounded the corner and nearly collided with Killian Schmidt. I barely caught myself.
"Seraphina," he greeted smoothly. His voice sounded like aged whiskey-rich, deep, and with a burn that lingered. His presence was a mirror to his son's, commanding and dangerous, but there was something about him that made the air heavier.
"I-uh-hello, Sir," I stammered, inwardly cringing. Why did I always sound like a stuttering fool around these people? Sir? What sir, Seraphina?
His lips curved into a smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Killian," he corrected, tilting his head. "We don't stand on formalities in this house."
"Right. Killian." The name felt like a foreign object in my mouth, sharp-edged and precarious.
He stepped closer, and instinctively, I straightened, the back of my neck prickling with unease. "Tell me, Seraphina," he began, his gaze unrelenting. "Do you intend to break my son's heart?"
What? Break Judas's heart? Could he even bleed, let alone feel?
"I… what?" I finally managed, my voice an octave higher than I intended.
Killian's smile widened, though it was no less intimidating. "My son is... not an easy man. But even the most formidable have weaknesses, don't they?"
"I don't-" I started. "I don't plan to do anything to him."
His gaze didn't waver, sharp enough to carve through bone. "Good," he said finally, as though weighing my sincerity. Then, just as I thought the tension would suffocate me, his expression softened, and he chuckled lightly. "He's lucky to have you, though I doubt he realizes it yet."
"Lucky?" I echoed incredulously. "That's one word for it."
Killian's laughter was low as his blue eyes softened. "You amuse me, little one. Don't lose that fire." He stepped aside, gesturing for me to pass. "Run along now. I believe you have a storm to brace yourself for."
I nodded mutely, my legs moving before my brain could catch up. As I climbed the stairs, his words reverberated in my mind. Break his heart? How could I break something I wasn't even sure existed?
When I reached the corridor that led to our room, I paused. Something wasn't right. A faint sound drifted through the silence-soft, muffled sobs.
My stomach twisted with curiosity and apprehension propelled me forward. The noise came from a room at the far end of the hall. The door was ajar, just enough for the faint light to spill onto the polished floor.
Creeping closer, I peered inside.
Krystina sat with her back to me, her shoulders trembling as quiet sobs wracked her body. Her delicate frame looked even smaller, folded in on itself like she was trying to disappear.
My heart twisted. What could have made someone like her break like this? Did she hurt herself?
I was about to step inside when she shifted, turning slightly. The phone pressed to her ear glinted in the light, and her voice, trembling but urgent, sliced through the quiet.
I stiffened.
"I'll come," she desperately sobbed. "Don't hurt him, Massimo. Please, I beg you."
Massimo? Who was Massimo? My mind reeled with questions as I stumbled back, my pulse roaring in my ears. Her hand went to her hair, her fingers running through it anxiously as she moved toward the window. And why did she look like her world was about to shatter?
"I…" Her voice cracked. "I'll find a way. Just… don't touch him."
I didn't wait to hear more. Panic gripped me, and I turned on my heel. My heart thundered in my chest.
Who was Massimo?
I barely made it to the room when it happened.
Something yanked me backward stealing the breath from my lungs. A scream clawed up my throat, but a hand clamped over my mouth, muffling it. Panic ignited, and I twisted wildly, my mind screaming for escape even as my body froze.
I was swung around, cradled in arms that felt both unyielding and suffocating, then slammed against the wall. The impact stole the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping as my head tilted back in shock. My eyes flew open, darting wildly in the dim light, searching for my captor.
And then I caught it. The scent. The unmistakable mix of leather and smoke that clung to only one person.
Judas.
Before I could process it, his cold lips crashed onto mine. The kiss wasn't tender-it was an assault, a punishment, and a possession all rolled into one. So demanding and ruthless. My body arched involuntarily against him.
"Judas," I tried to say, but his mouth swallowed my protest, his tongue claiming mine as if he wanted to swallow me whole.
His hands were everywhere-rough, impatient, and unapologetically invasive. One hand gripped my waist with bruising force, pulling me flush against him, while the other slid up my thigh, dragging my dress with it. The fabric bunched at my hips, and I gasped against his mouth, the sound turning into a muffled moan when his warm hand brushed the sensitive skin at the edge of my underwear.
Fear and desire clashed within me, a war I couldn't win.
When he pulled away, I was gasping and breathing heavily. He gave me space to breathe, still hoisting me around his waist, hand still on my arse, pressed his forehead against mine. "I can't… take it anymore, ptichka. I need to be inside you, right now."
My breath hitched and I just stared at him with pounding heart. His eyes seemed to be on verge of losing control. I could feel it.
And strangely, I'd never been more terrified and more alive than when he was near. But the closer I get to him, the more I realized I didn't want to escape at all.