Chapter 3

SCARLET

3

Ibalked at the living area and adjoining kitchen I found myself in, the large warehouse windows looking over the river that Taboo Kisses backed onto.

The shadow-laden sanctuary matched the vibe downstairs, but this was more intimate, more homely, and the city's pulse was visible through the vast windows across the river. It screamed money and bad decisions, and a heat rippled over my skin.

"You live here?" I asked, my voice bouncing off the hardwood floors. Noms had never mentioned anyone living here, but this was clearly someone's home, or a vacation spot at the least.

"From time to time." Cristian all but dragged me to the nearest black leather couch, the lighting in the area low and sensual. Was this planned? Had I just gotten lucky to be the mouse he caught tonight?

Did I care? I just wanted some fun, some bliss to drown my sorrow and pain.

He didn't waste time as he laid me down on the couch, his hands now gripping me with purpose before he caged me in his arms.

"Are you burning for me, Scar?" His lips grazed my earlobe. Was he seriously making a joke out of my pyro act? Not that I cared right now.

"Red hot," I hissed, and that deep, dark chuckle had me tangled in all kinds of knots.

Then he was everywhere—mouth on mine, one hand fisted in my hair while the other slipped under my shirt. His kiss was a brand, marking me in ways that would linger longer than lipstick. My hands clawed at his back, pulling him closer.

My heart hammered at his touch, my head spinning from both his kiss and the booze, but I embraced the floating sensation.

"I'll fix it for you, little pet," he growled as he pulled back, eyes dark as the smoke I left behind.

I was too drunk and focused on the raw need embracing us to care about those words.

"Make me forget," I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

Something glinted in those dark eyes as his mouth pulled into a smirk that should've had me running from there. But I was trapped beneath him now, having walked right into the wolf's den.

He dove back down, yanking my shirt and bra off before stripping me of my jeans and underwear. My mind was a muddled mess, a part of me knew the way he was looking at me was wrong, something dark and dangerous, but the other part was too focused on my desire and the airy haze I was in. I wanted to be lost in his attention tonight, to forget everything even if only for a short while. If he chose to use me, so be it. He wasn't the only one wanting to scratch an itch tonight. To find solace in the sins of the flesh.

But he sure as shit made me forget all my worries as he rose only to shed his suit. As the material was cast aside, I could only draw my lower lip between my teeth at the masterpiece standing before me.

My gaze rolled over the tattoos that littered his body, snaking up his arms and claiming his chest in rich artwork and ink. He was covered in it, the suit having hidden all of the brands on his skin. Skulls, flames, words, and more, but I was unable to focus on making out the art as he sunk back down to hover over me on the couch.

His hands explored with a fervor that bordered on reverence—if reverence could be so damn filthy. One hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to send a rush of panic and pleasure through my veins. The other slipped between my legs, teasing my dripping folds, making him hiss.

"Well, isn't this little kitty turned on, hmmm?" Those dark eyes flicked up to mine as I drew in shallow breaths, his grip on my throat making breathing difficult. So he had a kink, it wasn't like I hadn't been choked before.

I managed a small smirk, and those eyes flashed as his jaw twitched, the edge of his mouth quirking upward.

His hand pulsed around my throat, and then he speared two fingers inside me. I gasped, my nails digging into his ink-stained skin as he stroked my walls.

"More?" he growled, those dark eyes flashing dangerously as he hovered over me on the couch.

But this wolf had met his match, I was no fragile lamb. I was no longer caring for anything, instead, I was embracing being a sinner, an arsonist, and someone ready to make even more bad decisions—this one covered in ink.

I nodded, because more was the only language I understood tonight.

"Fuck." His hand slipped from my folds, although the one around my throat remained as he hooked one leg over his hip.

There was no warming as he slammed into me, my body jerking against the leather as I cried out.

He didn't relent after hearing my cry, his hand only tightening on my throat, the ceiling already spinning in my haze.

Fear gripped me as he fucked me ruthlessly, each of my raspy gasps a desperate plea for air the edges of my vision darken.

No words escaped as I struggled to breathe, the panic hitting me hard as I started trying to get free, clawing at the tightening hand on my throat. We should've discussed a tap out or something, but I'd not thought of it in my drunken state. He shook off my attempts to loosen his grip, and I met those dark eyes, something bone-chilling swimming in their depths as our eyes locked.

Had I fucked up? Was this more than just some wicked kink? Those who'd choked me before hadn't been this harsh, and the one who'd gotten close had stopped as soon as I'd whimpered and tapped him.

Cristian was not obeying the usual laws of the bedroom.

The panic continued to grow as he drove into me, my air cut off as I writhed, but he only seemed to be getting some sick joy out of my struggle as he arched a brow. I needed to get him off, this was going too far.

He grunted as I tried to throw him off, using my legs to try to roll us while pushing at his chest, but that wretched smirk crossed his face as his free hand caught my wrist.

"Nowhere to run, Scar." He pinned my hand over my head, but I brought up my other one with as much force as I could, the echo of the harsh slap ringing out.

Too bad the asshole just laughed, although his hand on my throat yanked back.

I seized my chance, gulping in air, but my relief was short-lived as he just grabbed my free wrist and slammed it down beside my other. His one hand gripped them together tight, his thrusts now having faltered as he cocked his head at me.

"I'm going to make you forget, Scar."

"Get the fuck?—"

He cut me off, his mouth smashing against mine in a bruising kiss. I tried to jerk my head away, but his teeth caught my lip, biting down on it until I tasted blood.

He moaned as his tongue flicked over the edges of my lower lip, and tears stung my eyes at the radiating pain.

I was useless against him, his hand an iron clamp on my wrists, my body not strong enough to throw him off despite the adrenaline burning through my veins.

I'd promise the powers above never to drink again if they saved me from this man.

He was going to kill me.

I whimpered against his mouth, although it only seemed to spur him on more as he drove into me with no remorse.

No, he wouldn't kill me, Raymond had seen us together. Lots of people had seen us together. He'd be stupid to kill me.

So why was he fucking me like he planned to?

Everyone had their kinks, but if this was his, then he should've fucking said so. He was being brutal, animalistic. Things that should've been discussed prior.

A dark thought hit me, and I acted, snagging his lip in my own teeth and clamping down hard. Two could play this wicked game if he didn't want to relent.

Our blood mixed together, and his whole body shuddered with a low moan.

Why on earth did that give me a rush of pleasure?

"Now, now, the little kitty has claws," he hissed as he pulled back. I glimpsed the red staining his lips, and I automatically ran my tongue over the split he'd caused.

"What the fuck?! You're too rough," I snapped, trying to quell my hammering heart and soothe the fear inside me. He was just kinky and into harsh stuff, that was all. But there was something in his eyes that was making me uneasy now as he grinned at me.

"Are you going to lie and tell me you're not getting some sick pleasure from it?" He paused, hovering over me with that wretched smirk, his dick half sunken into me.

"You're sick," I shot back, and he scoffed.

"Oh, sweetheart, I think we both are. So why not enjoy it? I promise I won't kill you, if that's what's made you shift." Those dark eyes swallowed me whole, and I sucked in a breath.

"Should've warned me before you started choking me out that much," I hissed.

"Where's the fun in that?"

Whatever retort I had died as he drove into me with a vengeance, his hand returning to my throat.

"Now be a good girl and cum for me."

I'd be lying if I didn't say that some twisted, filthy part of me got pleasure from that.

Maybe we were both as wretched as the other, because I stopped fighting, hoping he held true to his word of not killing me. There'd been too many witnesses. I had to have faith in that.

Besides, for some stupid, fucked up reason, the bliss was building inside me as he grunted over me like a wild animal. This sex was something depraved and wicked, and I was now writhing with pleasure, my body at his whim.

"That's it," he growled against my ear, my gasps now coming out in quick succession.

This fucking psycho was going to unravel me. Maybe this was why everyone had been looking at us. Maybe they knew how fucked up he was. But damn, if this wasn't giving me the strangest, intense pleasure and adrenaline high.

The metallic taste lingered on my tongue, a strange thing for me as the bliss coiled up tight inside me, his thrusts unrelenting as he drove deep inside me, filling me fully and stretching my walls. The mix of pain and pleasure was too much, and when he ducked down to sink his teeth into my shoulder, I came undone.

I cried out with the ruinous bliss, my nails splitting the skin on his back as he moaned, his dick pulsing inside me with his own release.

"Good girl," he breathed, and I bristled at the words even as my body betrayed me, my heart skipping a beat at the praise.

Tell me you had daddy issues without telling me.

"Fuck you," I managed, but it was empty and hollow, because right now, I'd burn the world down for another hit of that chaos. I had serious problems.

"Oh, pet, I'm far from done with you. Tonight, you're forgetting everything. Just enjoy the ride."

How little did I know that that promise would be my undoing.

The sharp, unapologetic sunlight sliced through the blinds, carving up the darkness that had been my only solace, branding my eyelids with a harsh reminder that I was still alive. My head was pounding, like some god-forbidden monkey was beating a drum against the side of it, and I opened one eye in an attempt to figure out where the hell I am. The room spun—a carousel of bad decisions—and I clutched at the sheet covering me as the nausea hit hard.

"Shit." I groaned, tasting last night on my tongue; it was bitter, laced with mistakes and the tang of copper. There was pain, too, a dull throb that snaked around my neck when I swallowed. I touched my neck and flinched at the tender flesh, tracing the outlines of bruises that were definitely not there before. Badges of honor or marks of shame?

But the memory of his lips on mine sent an uninvited shiver down my spine. And not just his lips, but the raw need and ruthlessness to which he'd fucked me. There was something so feral and depraved about it that made my body shudder. I hated that I'd enjoyed it. He was an animal, and if I knew any better, I'd have run at the first chance I'd gotten.

Not allowed him to fuck me senseless well into the morning.

I gingerly touched my split lip as well, the battle wound now scabbed over. He'd be brandishing the same wound from last night's endeavors.

I glanced at the window, the morning sun assaulting me, daring me to attempt to rise. I was surprised I'd made it to morning uncuffed. So much for the boys in blue coming to claim me.

I closed my eyes again, last night's beautiful chaos spiraling down on me.

I was alone on the couch, so I could only assume Cristian had covered me with the sheet and slunk off to his bedroom.

Fuck, my head was pounding, and I wanted to drift off until the pain subsided.

Too bad the faint vibration of a phone had me frowning. I reached down to the floor, swiping my hand across the shaggy rug until my fingers found the leg of my jeans.

I yanked them closer, fishing my phone from the back pocket as my head threatened to split open.

It took me a moment to register the array of missed calls and texts, and I groaned again, but not from the pain.

I scrolled through the notifications, glossing over the endless stream of calls and texts from Tommy, my gut churning.

Scarlet, you crazy bitch!

His words, no less venomous in text form, had me gritting my teeth.

I closed one eye, the words blurring on the screen as my head swam. I scrolled through the stream of texts from him, the harsh, hateful words and threats making my chest tighten. The police had been notified, and they'd come for me. I'd pay for all of this.

"Like I'm the one who started this," I muttered, although a pang of unease swept through me. I had been the one to start that fire, but he'd been the one to cheat. The reminder cut deep like a knife, all his false promises shattering inside me.

You think you can just torch the place and walk away?

I snorted, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. Walk away? As if I strolled through life without the weight of my actions crushing me. I knew I'd pay for them, karma had a way of doing that. But he'd been the one to fuck me over, so he had it coming.

I flicked through the messages, not bothering to read them, wanting to see what his final message to me was.

Tommy's last message blared at me, striking through the haze I was in.

So you sending your fuck buddies round to scare me now?

The words pulsed on the screen, accusing me. I scowled, perplexed by the text. What on earth did he mean by that?

The phone vibrated in my hand, cutting through my pit of despair and confusion as Naomi's name lit up the screen with a drunken selfie of us with colored wigs on. A hectic night out years ago, but one I'd cherished.

"Noms, my head is killing me," I rasped as I answered, my voice gravel, each word scraped raw from my throat.

"Scar! For fuck's sake. Where the hell are you? I thought you were in a goddamn dumpster!" Her voice was sharp, a drill sergeant ready to chew me out and spit me into shape. Of course she was worried to high hell about me.

Although, right now, I wished she'd learn to whisper more.

"Somewhere between Hell and a hangover," I groaned, wincing as the throbbing in my head only worsened. "Didn't Ray tell you where I went?"

"Of course he fucking told me. Are you okay? What happened?"

"Long story," I muttered, images from the night before flickering in my mind like a sputtering neon sign. "I'm going to need aspirin."

"This isn't funny. Shit's happened, Scar. The bar, then Ray said you went upstairs with Cristian of all people." Her words had sharpened like knives, and my brow furrowed as her worry punched through the phone line. Sure, Noms worried a lot, but this was something more.

"Look, Noms, I just wanted some fun before I got locked up," I said as I tried to piece together the fragments of the night with the desperation of a kid trying to glue a broken vase back together before their mom saw it. I remembered bits and pieces, but for the most part, it'd been oddly fun, if not brutal. My neck would attest to that since it'd been used as a damn squeeze toy. "Can't hate a girl for wanting some fun before a jail sentence." The words were heavy with the weight of last night's recklessness.

"Get your ass out of there, Scar. This isn't funny."

"Never said it was," I shot back, feeling the heaviness of her concern. But I was too tired to carry it right now, too tired to carry anything but the need to escape the pounding in my skull. I let my still-spinning gaze wander over the large living area. "Besides, I'm alone here. He must be sleeping."

"Scar, I'm serious," she hissed, and I slowly sat up, the pounding in my head protesting with a vengeance as the room tilted dangerously. Noms was worried, and considering how she'd reacted to me burning down the bar, this had to be something huge.

"What's wrong?" I tried to ease the jackhammering in my head by massaging my temple to no avail.

"Cristian isn't just some guy. He and his brothers own this place," she whispered, like she was the one hiding in the wolf's den.

"And?" So I fucked her boss, why was that something so terrifying? We'd done far stupider things. On the scale of dumb shit I'd done in the last twenty-four hours, it sat at the bottom.

"Scarlet, listen to me," her voice dropped, serious and low, "These guys... they're not just bar owners. They're bad news. Speaking of, have you seen the news?"

"No." I rubbed at my eyes, wondering just what sort of mess I looked like. "And I got a weird message from Tommy."

"I'm texting you a link, check it. What did Tommy say?"

"He sent me a message about sending 'fuck buddies' to scare him."

"What the hell does that even mean?" I could picture her shaking her head. "Got the link?"

"Reading it now."

There was an image at the top of the article of an all too familiar bar burning, and I arched a brow at the headline.

"Faulty gas line?"

"Exactly. I dunno if it's dumb luck or what, but holy shitballs, Scar."

"Faulty, my ass," I scoffed, scrolling through the article for any other hint of what truly went down. The bar—the one I torched in a fit of rage—was now just another tragic headline. At least no one was hurt. Although, I'd already known that.

"Scar, this is good. They think it was an accident."

"Right, because I'm just that lucky."

"Did you tell Cristian about it?" Her words were sharp like glass on concrete.

"Yeah, probably." I scanned the floor for my underwear, not finding any sign of them.

"Scar, he's one of the Silvestri brothers. Hell, all three of them stay up there sometimes. Please tell me you're headed for the door?"

"The Silvestri brothers?" The name rang a bell, but I couldn't place it.

"Out. Now, Scar. You've gotten in bed with the damn mafia."

"Fuck." Her words hit me like a freight train, and I snatched up my shirt from the floor before struggling into my jeans, the sickness in my gut and the pounding in my head making it one hell of a mission.

"Exactly, I swear, you're a magnet for trouble."

"Story of my life," I retorted, rubbing at the bruise blossoming around my throat. But somewhere beneath the sarcasm, fear gnawed at my insides. Naomi wasn't one to panic. Not since she'd traded her vices for velvet ropes and VIP rooms.

"Won't lie, the man knows how to fuck," I muttered as I yanked my shirt on, my bra nowhere to be seen either. Her unease and panic were carving into me now.

"Yeah, so we know, he also has a tendency to leave a damn mark on the girls he brings through this place," she hissed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I figured that out. I'll be fine." I pressed my fingers against the tender bruises blooming on my skin like morbid flowers. "He and his ink made quite the impression."

"Look, I know we dance with the devil often, but this is more. They're really bad men, and I hope to God that they just leave you the hell alone after this."

"I'm leaving now." Adrenaline had started its jittery dance through my veins, along with the stumbling from all the booze threatening to make a reappearance after last night. So much for fucking a stranger with a savior complex. Nope, I had to land myself a damn made man.

Lucky me.

"Keep me on the line," Noms ordered as I headed for the door, my roiling guts threatening to hinder my movements as the sickness burned the back of my throat.

"Fuck, Noms, I'm gonna be sick," I mumbled as I keeled off from my path to the door and headed for the kitchen sink.

I heaved my guts up, last night's mistakes splattering in the sink as the shakes set in.

Yep, I'd gone too damn far, my body trembling horrendously.

"Scar, you okay?" Nom's voice was distant as I bent over the sink, struggling to catch my breath as another wave of nausea rolled through me.

"No, sick," I gasped out to the phone on the counter before I heaved again.

I waited a moment, making sure my stomach had settled before I turned on the faucet, washing away last night's booze from the sink and rinsing my mouth out.

My stomach was still a mess, but I felt slightly better.

That'd had to be something compared to the events of the last twenty-four hours.

I hadn't planned for any of this—the bar's smoldering remains, the lie spiraling out on the news, or the strange twist of fate that had landed me here, in the lair of a man as captivating as he was dangerous.

But Naomi's words clung to me, an omen I couldn't shake off. The mafia.

"Cristian Silvestri," I mused aloud as I pushed away from the sink, testing the name on my tongue like a new brand of poison.

I caught my reflection in a mirror on the wall and paused, my eyes widening. The woman staring back at me was wild-eyed, hair a tangled crown of rebellion, and marks on her throat like the kiss of a noose.

My choice in men was its own form of self-harm, something Noms and I had laughed over several times. Now, it was a blinding red flag as I touched my throat.

"Scar?" Noms voice pulled me from my haze.

"Heading out," I assured her as I turned the kitchen corner.

"Good, you may have burned down the bar, but please don't completely crash and burn with Cristian or his brothers. I'm downstairs, I'll take you home to mine."

"You're already here?" I mumbled as my stomach churned, the front door only a few paces ahead.

"Yeah, Steve had me in the back rooms all morning. Then when I came out, I caught Ray. We've been down here worrying over you since."

"Well, Steve has some stamina for a man of his age," I smirked, and she snorted on the other end of the phone. "Besides, Noms, you don't have to worry about me."

"I know you can take care of yourself, but this time, I'll worry. I don't want to see you go up in smoke too."

Naomi was right. I'd already burned down one part of my life last night. No need to add more of myself to the pyre, especially not with a made man. That was too much, even for me.

I paused, my gaze rolling over the front door as unease set in.

"Noms… there's no door handle," I whispered, fear raising its wretched head as I rolled my eyes over the damn door. There was nothing but a keypad, and I pushed the enter button, hoping it would open the door.

It just blared red at me, and pushing on the door resulted in nothing.

"What?" Noms voice hitched. "What do you mean there's no handle?"

"I'm saying this freak has locked me in here. Can you open it from the other side?" I hissed as I dared a glance over my shoulder. Across the living area was the other hall, which I could only assume led to his room and a bathroom or something.

"I can only open the staff door, the doors after that only work via their key cards and codes." Noms voice was unsteady, and I heard Ray's in the background.

"What do I do?" I asked, both to herself and I, as I tested the door again. But it was pointless—I wasn't leaving via the front door.

"I'll see if I can find a bathroom or something." My voice was barely above a whisper, my heart now pounding in my ears.

Good job, Scar, look at the lovely mess you'd found yourself in. I swear, someone had it out for me overhead.

How was I going to get out of this?