Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

RHETT

S team clouds the room, thick and suffocating, as the scalding water pounds against my skin, but I barely register the burn. My hand moves faster, gripping my cock with bruising force, every stroke driven by the images flashing through my mind. My girl sprawled out in the bath, her back arched, her lips parted in breathless moans, fingers buried deep inside her. Fuck, the way she said my name as she came is a fucking brand seared into my brain, a fire I can't put out.

I slam my forehead against the cool tile, letting out a low, guttural growl as I stroke myself harder, chasing the release I fucking need. Every sound she made echoes in my skull. The soft, slick rhythm of her fingers sliding in and out of her pussy, the way her body trembled, water rippling around her as she gasped for air.

She's fucking mine. Every inch of her belongs to me, and I've never wanted to claim someone so completely, or mark them in every way except for her. The memory of her slipping her fingers into her mouth, tasting herself with that wicked gleam in her eyes—it drives me within inches of the fucking edge. I'm close, too close, but I force myself to slow down, to draw out the torment.

I should have her under me right now, not in my fucking head. She's branded as mine, and I'm hers, so I should be able to take my little nightmare whenever the fuck I want. Wherever I want.

I glance down at my cock, my hand tightening around the steel barbells of my Jacob's ladder, and there it is—her name, tattooed on my flesh between the piercings in the most perfect cursive font. The fresh ink burns under my palm in the same way it did when the needle first hit.

Cara.

Permanent, unbreakable, carved into me just like I've carved myself into her.

Like I carved Jonah's head for her.

The flashback of the look on her face when she saw my little gift does me in.

I groan, my strokes growing frantic as the sight of her name on my cock again tips me over the edge. I see her face in my mind, hear her moans, and the memory of her skin under mine pushes me past the point of no return. I come hard, my entire body shuddering, my release hitting the tile as I grip the edge of the wall for support. It's intense, every muscle locking tight, my mind blanking with nothing but her—her name, her body, the way she's marked me as hers.

For a moment, all I can do is stand there, breath ragged, my heart slamming against my chest as the water cascades over me. My head rests against the cool tile, steam swirling around me like smoke, and the satisfaction slowly settles in my bones. But underneath it all, the craving remains.

I need her.

I glance down at the ink on my cock again, her name clear, sharp, unmistakable. And then, there's mine, tattooed on her perfect flesh. My brand, my mark, etched into her skin the same way. I can still remember the way she shivered when the needle hit her, the way she looked at the ceiling with wide eyes, biting her lip as she took it, knowing she was mine now, forever.

Cara.

The name feels heavy in my chest, solid, like it's welded to my soul.

I finally push off the wall, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. But that image stays with me, that reminder of my girl's name on me, and my name on her. We're branded now, both of us.

My little nightmare and me.

My body still hums with the aftershock of release, but the tension hasn't left. It clings to me like the steam in the air, thick and unrelenting. I wipe myself down, dragging the thick cotton fabric across my skin, rough and quick.

I use the towel and scrub it across my chest and arms, wiping away the steam and heat from the shower. My mind flips between two things—Cara, and the rage gnawing at me like a wildfire for revenge. It takes everything in me not to drive straight to Demarko, hunt him down, and tear him apart piece by piece. But that's not the plan. The boss wants intel, and I've got orders to follow.

Quick in, quick out. No bodies, no mess.

Cara's starting to break, starting to trust me in ways she doesn't even realize yet. But I can't focus on that, not fully, not until I settle this shit. How can I claim her the way I want to, mold her into what she's meant to be, mine , when that bastard is still out there, walking free like he didn't take everything from me?

I pull on a pair of black boxers, my movements sharp and jerky, adrenaline already starting to crawl beneath my skin. Then, my jeans, tight against my legs, grounding me just enough. I hate the thought of bringing her anywhere near him or his men. Giving them the opportunity to take her from me the way they took my father. But leaving her behind means risking her running.

She has to come with me. At least this way, I can keep her exactly where I want her: close, and under my control.

I tug a black T-shirt over my head, my muscles tensing beneath the fabric. I'm bringing her into a world she has no business being in. It's dangerous, bloody, and there's no room for error. But she'll do as she's told because she knows I won't hesitate to remind her who's in charge.

The second I enter the kitchen, my eyes fall on her. She's sitting at the table with her wrist cuffed to the wooden leg, reading some book with monsters on the cover, completely oblivious to the fact that her world is about to get a lot darker.

My world.

I stalk toward her, my boots heavy against the old wooden floor, and her head snaps up. Those wide, innocent doe eyes lock on me, her pouty lips parting in confusion. "Rhett?"

My girl blinks at me like I'm an intruder, and it pisses me off more than it should. I lean against the table, towering over her. "I need you to get dressed. We're leaving." My voice comes out rough, sharp.

Her gaze falters. "Leaving? For what?" She hasn't left the house since the night I chased her home. Since the night I made her understand just how mine she really fucking is.

"I have work to take care of." I watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows. "And you're coming with me."

The color drains from her face as she realizes I'm not asking. She hesitates, lips pressing together. "What kind of work, Rhett?"

I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a low, menacing growl. "The kind where people end up dead if you're not careful. The kind where you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you, little nightmare, or I'll punish you again."

Fear flickers in her eyes, and I almost enjoy it. But this time I know the fear isn't of me. She's afraid of what we're walking into. Good . She should be.

At least this fear will keep her from doing anything stupid.

I like her scared. It makes her obedient, and while this fear she's feeling might not be of me, it makes it that much easier to manipulate my control over her.

It makes her mine .

"You're not staying here," I continue, my fingers brushing her jaw, forcing her to look at me. "I can't trust you not to run. And I won't fucking lose you to anyone. Not tonight. Not ever."

She nods quickly, eyes wide, but I don't miss the slight tremble in her hand as she grips the edge of the table.

"I'm running surveillance on some dangerous men," I say, straightening up. "If you fuck this up, or try any stupid moves, we're both dead. I'm taking a huge risk taking you to this meeting, let alone taking you out of the house. Do you understand me, little nightmare?"

She nods again, swallowing hard. "I won't mess up, Rhett. I promise."

I narrow my gaze, my voice turning ice-cold. "You better not. Because tonight, you're in my world. And in my world, people like you don't get second chances."

She doesn't respond, just stares at me with that wide-eyed nervous look, like she's waiting for me to do something worse than I already have. I run my thumb along her bottom lip, my grip tightening around her chin. "You do exactly what I say, or I'll make sure I punish you when we get back."

Her breath hitches, and I see the submission creeping into her eyes along with lust for the punishments she's learned to enjoy, despite what she tells me.

Part of me wonders if drugging her might be easier. I could knock her out for a few hours and leave her cuffed to her bed again, but I know I won't be able to focus on Demarko or the intel if I'm worried about her. Bringing her is a big risk, but even I have to admit my little nightmare is learning. Slowly, but she's learning who is in control.

Who she belongs to.

I release her and step back. Grabbing my keys off the counter I unlock her cuffs, freeing her from the table. "Get your shoes on. We leave in twenty."

She stands, hesitant, and I catch her stealing a glance at me, something uncertain flickering behind her gaze. Then, soft as a whisper, she asks, "You're not going to drug me again, are you?"

I freeze. The question catches me off guard. It's like this new branded bond between us allowed her to read my mind. My jaw tightens, and I take a slow breath. "No. I'm not going to drug you, and if I was, I wouldn't tell you, I'd just do it."

Her eyes harden, though, just for a second. "Please, Rhett. I'll do whatever you want. Just don't... don't drug me again."

Her defiance makes my cock twitch.

I drag a hand through my hair, frustrated that I can't act on any of my goddamn impulses tonight. Not with Demarko, not even with my little nightmare. "I said I won't. But you need to understand you cannot fuck around tonight, no fucking games. You want me to trust you? Then tonight, you fucking obey."

She nods, visibly relieved. "I won't do anything stupid. I promise."

"Good," I mutter, stepping back toward the door. "Because if you screw this up, there's no coming back. We're both dead."

She flinches slightly but stands her ground, her voice a whisper. "I won't."

I watch her for a moment longer, my mind already spinning with the chaos of tonight. I'll get the intel, just like the boss ordered. But every second Demarko's still breathing feels like a knife in my gut.

I want to kill him. I need to. But I can't. Not with my girl at my side.

She's mine. And I won't risk her for anything. Not even my fucking revenge.

"Get ready," I say again, my voice gruff. "We need to leave."

As I turn to go, I glance back at her, watching her as she pulls on her shoes. She's scared. She should be. But she's with me.

And no matter what happens tonight, she'll stay mine.

Forever.