Chapter Thirteen

EVA

I really wish I had another set of clothes.

I am so sick of wearing the same dress. I mean, I’m not even sure how long I’ve been here. A day? A couple of days? A week? Being locked in this room gives me no sense of time. Meals aren’t run to a schedule, so I can’t be sure when it’s breakfast, lunch, or dinner. They come when they come. I’m at a loss. I feel disgusting. I’ve been wanting to take a shower for so long, but with Nycto coming and going whenever he wants, I’m nervous he’ll come in when I’m in the shower, and seeing me naked is not something I believe would be good for either of us.

I mean, he stole me, for crying out loud. For all intents and purposes, Nycto is not a good guy. I need to not get caught up in his attempts to persuade me that he is. He proved it to me by walking out on me. I bared myself to him, thought we could have a moment to share something together, but he left with the intent of sleeping somewhere else. Well, if my sob story scared him that much, then he’s weaker than I thought.

With a huff, I stand from the bed I’ve been moping on for the last who knows how long and storm over to the closet between the two doors. Why haven’t I thought of looking in here before now? I’ve had enough of this party dress. It’s time to get comfortable.

As I pull open the tall wooden door, the smell of leather hits me. Inhaling the scent instantly reminds me of Nycto as I take in his closet. The left side is all hanging space. The right lower half is drawers, with a shelf halfway up, lined with knickknacks. A Zippo lighter with what I’m assuming is the club logo inscribed on it. A small wooden box. A bottle opener. A set of Bluetooth headphones. An expensive-looking watch. A matchbox motorbike—maybe from his childhood. Picking up the miniature Harley, I study it. Is this where his love of bikes came from? As a kid?

After returning it, I turn to the left side and run my hand through the hanging clothes. Mainly white or black tees, the occasional dress shirt, one random pair of formal pants…

Pressing my lips together, I rustle through the drawers until I find some sweatpants and throw them over my shoulder. Then I browse his T-shirts until I find a Tampa Defiance club shirt. It’s black with a white logo on the back and the word President proudly sported across the front. I grin from ear to ear as I take it off the hanger. He’s probably going to kick my ass for this, but honestly, I don’t care. He pressed my buttons, so I’ll stomp right back on his.

Turning around, I walk over to the bed and place my ensemble on the mattress. Excitement bubbles inside me as I sashay out of the dress I never want to wear again. I throw it out of the way, onto his desk, while wishing I had some fresh underwear. I gnaw down on my bottom lip and glance back at his closet. Slowly, checking the door first for signs of movement, I creep back over and open the top drawer.

Score. Boxer briefs.

Would that be weird?

I hesitate for a moment, then throw caution to the wind.

I search through his underwear drawer until I find the smallest pair of boxer briefs I can. They’ll still be far too big, but they’ll be better than what I’m wearing. I slide his drawer closed, then turn back to face the door. Hesitating for a moment, making sure there’s still no noise coming from the other side, I quickly shimmy my panties down and slide his briefs up my tanned legs. With the edge rolled over a couple of times, I manage to get them to sit on me fine.

I giggle to myself.

Nycto’s head is going to explode.

I walk over and place my panties on top of my dress in clear view for if he ever walks back into the room. He’ll know right away I’m not wearing my panties. It will drive him mad, and for some strange reason, that makes me happy as fuck.

Next, I grab his sweatpants and put them on. They’re way too big, so, just like with the briefs, I fold the edge over and over until they sit perfectly in place. Grabbing the club president shirt, I hesitate for a moment. I bring it to my nose and sniff. It smells like him. This is a big deal. This shit means something to him. Plus, it’s probably disrespectful in his eyes. Then again, it was disrespectful to be part of the system that kidnaps my sister and me, drags us away from our home country, and delivers us to some pendejo to be sold as forced labor, or worse…

Fuck it.

I thread my arms through the sleeves and yank it over my head. Glancing down at the shirt, which is too big for my body, I can’t help but smile.

Something washes over me. A feeling of home. A sense of belonging.

I haven’t felt like I truly belonged anywhere since my parents died.

When they left, everything felt skewed—like nothing was quite right.

But standing here, in Nycto’s shirt, it’s like my world is falling back into place. That scares the hell out of me because Ivy isn’t here. A world without my sister—without me protecting her and making sure she’s okay—is not a world I belong in.

I scrub at my face to stop my eyes from watering and head back over to the closet to close it. My mischievous mood has soured, and now I want to sit on the bed and wallow. I close the left door and grab the right, but as I go to shut it, the small wooden box on the shelf gains my attention.

Once you know what’s in there, it can’t be unseen.

My curiosity outweighs my better judgment.

I slowly slide my fingers over the lid of the box. Inhaling, I hold my breath as I carefully open it. I tense, half expecting a finger or some other equally disturbing bullshit to be inside. My eyes narrow, almost shutting, dreading what I’m going to witness. My stomach tightens in a knot. Taking one last breath, I open it fully.

The box is lined with red velvet. My eyes widen, and I gasp. A key? My breath catches in my throat as I pick it up. It’s an old-style filigree pattern with a skull on the handle. My head snaps to the door, and my eyes focus on the lock. No freaking way. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? Surely, the key hasn’t been here this whole damn time.

My fingers tremble as I move to pick up the key, but then the handle to the door rattles.

“Fuck!”

I drop the key into the box, close the lid, and quickly but quietly shut the closet door.

As the handle turns, I bolt over to the bed, lunge for it, and spread out, my body bouncing with my movement as Nycto enters. I turn on my side facing him, propping my head up, trying to catch my frantic breathing and not look too guilty as his eyes catch sight of my dress and panties on his desk.

He slowly tilts his head, making his neck crack. His nostrils flare like he’s trying to keep his shit together. He slowly turns to take me in, and his eyes widen when he notices what I’m wearing.

He halts dead still. Every inch of him stops moving.

Even his chest. He’s stopped breathing.

I sit up on the bed, watching him with concern. I want to go to him, but I’m worried he’s having a medical episode. Maybe I really did make his head explode. “Nycto? Are you okay?”

He finally inhales. It’s sharp, followed by him clearing his throat again and shaking his head as though regaining focus. He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re wearing my shirt,” he says, his voice gravelly.

“And your pants, technically.” I smirk.

“I can see that.”

“If you wanna get real honest…” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I’m also wearing your underwear.”

He clenches his eyes closed and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.”

I twiddle my fingers together nervously. “Sorry if I overstepped. I couldn’t be in that dress any longer—?”

His eyes snap open with an intensity in them as they bore into me, effectively silencing me. “That shirt is only for the president to wear.”

I gulp a lump down my throat. “I figured, seeing as how I’m staying in here, no one but you is going to see me in it…”

“Take it off.”

Crap. He’s about to lose his shit. Out of anger? Or because he can’t hold himself back from me?

“I’m not putting that dress back on,” I state firmly, folding my arms over my chest.

Nycto storms over to his closet, yanks it open, and grabs some random shirt. It also has the Defiance logo on it but without the president patch. He shoves it toward me. “Change. Now .”

I huff, my heart hammering in my chest, but give in. “You need to turn around.”

His eyes wander up and down my body. “You’ve been bad, Eva. You don’t get to make demands.”

Tension flows through the room, a buzz filtering between us. My breath hitches at the thought of him seeing me wearing only my bra, and suddenly, I feel like a goddess. The way his eyes devour me already makes me feel like a queen.

I shouldn’t be encouraging him.

I should be demanding he turn around.

But if he’s going to play this game, I can play it just as well. “Fine.”

My eyes meet his, and I bite my bottom lip, the energy sizzling between us as his eyes follow my every move. My hands slide the shirt up over my stomach, his gaze lowering to admire my toned tummy as I hitch his shirt higher. He shifts a little to adjust his cock in his jeans, and I lift the shirt over my bra. Then I hoist it over my shoulders and off my head, pulling my long hair over one shoulder. His eyes don’t leave mine. They don’t so much as glance at my breasts, the way they rise and fall as I pant. He simply watches me watching him.

Nycto’s fingers clench so tight on the replacement shirt that his knuckles have turned white. I drop his president shirt to the bed and stand bare in front of him, in nothing but a bra and his sweatpants.

I thought I would feel stripped.

I thought I would feel ashamed.

But the way Nycto worships me with his eyes only makes me feel like I could do anything right now, and he would let me. The thing is, if he asked anything of me, I would probably let him too.

My skin prickles in goose bumps as energy swirls, sizzling around us. He’s not touching me in any way, yet it’s like his hands are all over me. This is the most intense standoff I’ve ever had with a man.

He slowly slides his arm up with the shirt in his hand toward me, and I take it from him.

“Put the shirt on, Eva.”

Nodding, I slowly pull the new shirt over my head, letting it fall over my body. It doesn’t feel as perfect as the first, but it’s nice. I smooth my hands over it, then my eyes shift back up to Nycto. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

He steps forward, reaching out for my hand. “You didn’t upset me. You shocked me. You look too good wearing my patch. That means something in my world, and I can’t have my brothers out there seeing you wearing it.”

I widen my eyes. “How would they see me wearing it?”

Nycto lets out a smile, more than his usual smirk, and the tension of the moment before ebbs slightly. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a set of handcuffs.

I step back. “Umm, what are they for?”

His lips lift in a true smile, one dimple dipping in, giving him a glow of happiness. He might be beaming like a ray of sunshine, but I’m feeling nothing but the sting of sunburn as I jerk my head back in shock.

Nycto reaches for my hand, and before I can pull away, he tightens one cuff around my wrist and the other around his own. He’s handcuffed me… to him?

Excitement builds inside me. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

“Yeah. We’re leaving the room. You’re coming out to meet everyone. But I’ll be your companion the entire time, so don’t think of running or doing anything stupid. Got it?”

I turn, slamming my body into his and wrapping my free arm around his neck. Nycto tenses as I hug him, even as awkward as it is with two of our arms tethered together. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I can’t wait.”

“You ready?” he asks as I pull back from him.

“So ready.”

“Then, chiquita , let’s get you to your welcome party.”