Chapter 18

Astrid

I t's not like his hold is a security for me , though it feels like it. No. This is more for him than anything. It seems like I'm his comfort. Or sense of safety. And the way his gray eyes penetrate me as he comes unnerves me.

This time, we both need something, and I have just as much fear inside of me that's reflected in his gaze.

I think we understand each other now.

When he breaks a small kiss from my lips and pants out a breath onto my face, I whisper, "So, hopefully, that worked."

Is it terrifying that I want to get pregnant as quickly as possible with the monster's baby?

I guess that's what realizing how much danger you're in if you're not knocked up will do to a person. Plenty of people get pregnant while they are still teens. If I have to be one of them to survive, so be it.

She'll be my only family.

She, the baby, that is. I've already got an idea of a name and who she would be. Only because I plan to be the best mother around. Unlike other mothers in Gnarled Pine Hollow, I won't die. Not unless those people take me and hurt me at another time, like the consort said.

"Yes. Hopefully." Vincente seems so sad all the time. Even as he flickers his view to the headboard and slides out, it's with some longing like he doesn't want to leave me. Oddly, maybe I feel the same.

Because despite how horrendous of a person he is, I think he'd kill to protect me. I know he would. Fuck, he has ! He's like my own chaotic murderer. I could set him loose on anyone I choose.

And when the door bursts open with Chloe standing there, I think about setting him loose on her first.

"Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but Dilan asked me to check on you and bring your breakfast tray. The lady's is in her room already."

He shakes his head slightly, a disgruntled groan erupting from his chest. Like he's tired and not just sad. It makes me angry for him.

"You can bring my breakfast in here. I'll eat with my husband. Thank you, Chloe."

As if I just asked for a nuclear bomb, Chloe's subservient manner changes completely to savage wildebeest. Her eyes glare at me as her jaw drops. My belly tightens, hoping the master doesn't hurt me because of it, but when I scan his face, he seems amused. His tight body still hovers over me, naked and gleaming with the sweat of our lovemaking.

I'm really not sure why I said that. Only a fool would love him.

"Do as Mrs. Strauss stated, Chloe. But come back in twenty minutes with hot food."

Kneeling, he offers his hand to me as Chloe almost slams the heavy wood door. I slide my palm into his and he guides me to the bathroom and into his oversized shower.

With a toss of my long blonde locks over my shoulder, I square up to him and cross my arms. "I can bathe alone, you know. I'm quite capable."

Still with that pleased grin plastered on his face, he turns on the water, reaching around to grab a towel to place on the sink behind me. Then, with a tiny shove of his hand on my lower back, pushes me into the shower and gets in behind me. "I'm sure you are. Almost a grownup now. Speaking out of turn. Not addressing me as sir." One of his fingers extends and taps the end of my nose, which infuriates me further. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he presses his lips to my ear and says, "I like it." But some piece of me wonders if I'm still about to be punished.

"I can shower in the other room."

As I try to slip past him, his grin widens. Strong arms extend to the surrounding walls, then collapse on my frame. It's not a trap.

More like an embrace.

A frightening, maddening hug.

But it makes me relax into him as if I'm desperate for human affection and desire.

Because I am.

My arms hold him back as he grabs something behind me and walks us into the stream of warm raindrops shooting from the showerhead.

After squeezing out a bottle, he runs his fingers through my hair and massages my scalp. The sensation is almost as good as the orgasms he just gave me. And I melt into him. My captor.

My savior.

The vicious bullheaded creature that just stuck up for me to one of his slaves.

"What do you think it would have been like if I'd met you in high school?"

His question stuns my already numbed brain, and I flicker my eyes open to see his serious expression. Water droplets bounce off his lashes when he blinks slowly to consider my answer. The creases in his forehead deepen, as do the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. It's surprising that he doesn't look twenty years older than me…until I'm this close. But the vulnerability of his anticipation makes him seem so very young.

Younger than me, even.

"Um, I didn't go to high school. I wouldn't know. I was homeschooled and finished at sixteen."

Nodding slightly, he considers something. "I was, too. I guess we both missed out on things."

It feels very much like he's talking about something else. Maybe he had this question in his mind so many times, but never asked it aloud.

"The shampoo you use makes my hair stringy."

He laughs, a genuine, full-bodied one that rattles the glass door as I complain. "Oh, I'm sorry. Which shampoo does Mrs. Strauss require?"

"Something moisturizing."

Trailing his fingers down some of my strands, he places his nose onto the top of my head and sniffs. "Hmm, something that smells like juniper berries and cotton candy? Like you?" The fact he discerns my smells is a little disconcerting. Is it just that the predator has latched onto his prey's scent?

Or something deeper. A terrifying thought that makes my belly twist into a tight knot.

What if he has feelings for me?

No, that's crazy. He's incapable.

His eyelids lower with heat flaring onto his face. The full length of him throbs between us, knocking on my belly as if to say hello. I glance down at it, and he flips me around so it slots between my ass cheeks. Lowering his head to my shoulder, he thrusts forward and says, "I want to fuck you back here, but only after you get pregnant." Then he dips a finger to my asshole, edging a yelp from my lungs. Surging forward, I try to grip the slick tiles to keep me upright. His arms hold me steady as he continues sliding the digit to my tight ring.

"What are you doing? That's not where that should— Oh my…" When he presses on the outer surface, the shock turns into some weird sensation that may be pleasurable. With a thrust inside, my breath chokes out in a moan. Pretty soon, I find my hips pushing back into him for more.

"Such a good girl for me. Fuck my finger. You'll love it in your ass."

Maybe he's right, but the absolute weirdest thing happens. His finger disappears, and he squats down, then places a palm on my lower back. "Bend over a bit, angel." Once I do, he spreads my cheeks and shoves his face there . Like all the way up in it! Something hard and wet strokes my asshole. My neck cranks back until I toss all my wet hair behind me, howling with some mix of feeling grossed out and incredibly turned on.

The thudding pulse between my legs escalates, and my thighs quiver, feet almost slipping on the floor, but he continues to eat my ass ravenously. His long arm extends to clutch my hand, then slowly moves it to my pussy. While his fingers cover mine, he guides me, both of us stroking where I need it most. It's things like this that make him seem so much older than me, and I feel like a little girl lost in his vast knowledge. He knows my body better than I do.

"Keep rubbing your clit." He rasps his command, fucking my asshole again with his thick tongue. I hump the ridge of my hand as he dips some of his inside my pussy. The sensation of being teased in both holes is almost too much. My nerves don't understand where to focus.

As my breathing becomes shallow and I feel like I'm about to burst into starlight, he removes his tongue and hand. Then stands and shoves his steel dick straight inside my pussy as I erupt all over him. The wail I emit echoes loudly off the tiles, and he fills me with his heat as his cock throbs deep inside me.

His hand works up to my throat as he pulls me back to him and holds me, his other lifting my hip while still inside me. I haven't even come down from my high before he bites my shoulder and moans. "I'm going to wear your pussy out. Then your ass. And finally, your mouth. All you'll know is my taste and miss the feel of me when I'm not there. You'll be begging for me to fill every inch of you every hour."

Sniffling, I try to protest.

But I can't.

Because I think he may be right if I can just feel this amazing all the time. Wiggling, I make him slip out and grab the bottle of soap on the shelf. I turn to face him and smirk. "Or maybe you'll be begging me."

I squirt a long string of the liquid into my hand as he tosses his head back and chuckles, the sound as loud as my shrieks of ecstasy earlier. When he returns his gaze to me, it's like he can't wait to do so. His hands grip my ass and pull me close to him, the faded erection flopping heavily between us.

He finds my lips with his and presses a kiss there as I lift my palms up to his granite chest and rub the suds into it, then push him away.

The sight of his smile is odd. It's like watching a marble statue come alive and develop color. He bites his bottom lip and continues to wash himself as I do the same. Once we're clean, he exits and throws a towel in my face, then takes one for himself. Sauntering out of the bathroom, he whistles some haunting tune I've never heard.

After wrapping my hair up to dry, I find a robe in the closet, slip it on, and then follow behind him. On the side table sits our breakfasts trays, but looking at them, I wonder now if anyone has messed with mine. Easing onto the plush red velvet wingback next to him, I lift the silver top off the tray and carefully scan the eggs and toast. No spit I can see.

Vincente studies me and arches an eyebrow. "If they tampered with it, they have me to deal with."

Taking a bite of the scrambled goodness, I inhale deeply, the warmth of the food nourishing me. My eyes find his and we match our gazes. "Will you give them poisoned tea, too?"

At first, he snickers. The sound soon turns menacing until I'm not sure who he's thinking of murdering next, but it could be me.

I doubt it. But it could.

As he chews his bacon, his icy orbs focus on my mouth before he clears his throat. "There's a formal library on the first floor. I'll have Dilan show you. If you like maps, there's an ancient collection in one of the glass cases you might find interesting. Feel free to look around." He reaches between us and pulls on a long, corded rope that hangs from the ceiling.

"Thank you, um, sir."

His head drops as he takes in his plate. In a strained whisper, he begs, "Call me Vincente again."

I'm not sure what it is, but seeing the creature with his head bowed low, shoulders slumped in defeat, he doesn't seem scary to me. In fact, I think I feel sorry for him. There's some invisible weight on his back and, instead of twisting the knife in it, I reach out.

Metaphorically, not physically.

"Okay, Vincente."

With a blink, he sits up, his eyes darting toward me as his lips part to speak. But the door opens softly as Dilan steps inside. "Yes, sir?"

"Please escort my wife to the library and then return to me."

The glisten of her painted red lips catches the late morning light as she purses them. "Of course, sir." Shifting her gaze, she scans my outfit, then wanders toward the second bedroom and inside. When she returns, she holds a fresh red shift dress across her arms.

Emboldened by the event of this morning, I try my hand at my next request. Without a glance at the master, I say, "I'd like to wear something else. Something comfortable . Like pants and an actual shirt. Some underwear, too."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Strauss, but this is the uniform we have for women in this household."

"But I'm not a woman in this household. I'm his wife."

Her jaw tightens and her cheeks flush, especially when Vincente roars a loud laugh. Fingers delve into my scalp and pull me close to his head as he places a smacked kiss on my temple. "Let her have some of my old things. I'll send Sev to get her some more appropriate clothing."

She doesn't move, but studies the two of us with an air of disinterest. I dare not look at her and focus on finishing my juice. Gracefully, she turns and wanders to the dresser nearby to gather up a pair of his pajama pants and a T-shirt, then lays them on the bed for me.

"I'll wait outside until you're ready, miss."

Vincente's hand makes its way onto my thigh to gain my attention. "Mrs. Strauss."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Huh?"

"You're my Mrs. Strauss."

When I dress, his gaze never departs from me. And neither do the odd feelings he leaves me with. I'm not exactly sure what's going on inside his strategic mind. But I know one thing.

I have all the power here.