Chapter 8

Every fearI've developed over the last couple of years comes roaring back to life. I don't like feeling trapped. I don't like feeling like I have no escape—and yet, here I am with Roman tossing me onto his bed, blocking the only way out—again.

"I want to leave," I say firmly, hoping he hears the strength in my voice and decides to back off. Unfortunately, though, my body is on a completely different wavelength. My core is already drenched, and my nipples are beaded into sensitive peaks, rubbing against my bra painfully.

He half-climbs onto the bed, one knee on the mattress, with both hands braced on either side of my head. "No."

"Yes," I choke out. The last two times Roman fucked me, it just kind of happened. I didn't have time to stress about whether or not I should allow him to fuck me.

But since the tribunal, it'sall I've been thinking about.

Roman isn't good for me, that doesn't take a genius to figure out. And it's true, I need his help finding Bree, but at what cost to my sanity?

His one hand slides up my baby-T, over my ribcage, then around to my back, so he can unhook my bra. It comes open easily, and sags on my body. He pulls me up slightly and removes my shirt and bra, so I'm lying there in front of him, naked from the waist up.

I don't fight him at all, and I have no idea why. Maybe, deep down, I really do want this. I hate this guy. I hate everything he stands for. But I can"t deny the effect he has on my body.

He smiles appreciatively, his gaze roving over my breasts. "You have generously sized tits. I meant to tell you that last time."

Yeah, I'm not the stick figure he's used to. "I have generously sized everything," I say stiffly.

He lifts a brow. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

His tongue darts out to lick his luscious bottom lip. Damn. I'm dying to kiss him right now, but I know, if I do, I'll be completely lost to him. Those lips can separate me from all logic, and they have, many times.

His hand now moves to the button of my jeans. He starts undoing them, pulling them down my thighs. "I crave you like a drug," he says darkly. "And I haven't had a hit of you in two fucking days."

I swallow at the reminder of our fuckfest right after the tribunal.

It's strange, but a statement like that, from him, especially, puts me at ease. It's a brief moment of transparency. And Roman isn't transparent very often, so I've learned to appreciate it when he is.

But just as I start to relax a little, I see it. That flash of darkness in his eyes. A darkness that always seems to be simmering just below the surface.

He yanks my pants off roughly, along with my panties. Now, I'm completely naked, lying on Roman's bed, something I swore to myself I would never do. That's how dangerous he is to me. He can make me do things I never thought I'd allow myself to do.

Placing his palm on my knee, he spreads me wide. Cool air washes over my entrance and my entire body trembles. He doesn't hesitate, though. His mouth is on me in seconds, licking, sucking, nibbling. I'm writhing beneath him, my fingers threaded through his wavy hair, bucking as he fucks me with his tongue. It's too much. It's not enough.

I cry out, "Mmm, yes!"

My clit is throbbing, pulsing in time with my erratic heartbeat, and I thrash violently. He doesn't let up, and in fact, my response only causes him to go harder, and deeper. Clamping both large hands around my hips, he pins me to the bed, holding me there, subjecting me to his cruel torture.

His fingertips dig into my skin, and I try to twist a little to loosen his grip, but that just encourages him to tighten his hold more.

"Ah," I breathe. "That hurts."

The second the words fly from my mouth, I wish I could recall them because he pulls away abruptly. It's like I poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He retreats off the bed quickly, and straightens, staring down at me with a strange look on his face.

The fuck?

I suck in a gulp of air as a gust of cold air replaces his warmth. My entire body is trembling, that intense electricity coursing through my veins. I rise up onto my elbows, and look at him with a question on my face, though I don't actually ask him what's the matter. I'm too chicken to voice that question, because I can only guess it has something to do with me, and I'm not quite sure I want to hear it.

He rakes a hand through his dark hair and shakes his head. "I can't fucking do this."

Uh, excuse me, what? He's done this with me twice already. What's different about this time?

Before I can even muster up the courage to voice that very astute observation, he turns and dips into the bathroom. Three seconds later, I hear the shower running.

Is this guy taking a shower? Right now?

I lie there for about thirty seconds before I get up off the bed and follow him into the bathroom. He's in the process of stripping down, and as he pulls his pants off, his thick, swollen cock springs free.

Goddamn, he's huge. I've fucked him twice, and I've felt every inch of that cock as it entered me, but I've never seen it. Not like this. Even when whats-her-name was sucking him off, I didn't get a full-on look, like this.

"What are you doing?" I ask, annoyed.

Without answering me, he steps into the shower, tilting his head back to wet his hair. He runs his hands through the dark strands, his back arched. Just below his shoulder blade, in his back, is a raised circular scar—what looks like a brand. I can't quite see the design, but it must be the Burning Crown seal.

My gaze continues to travel down his chiseled body. Goddamn. I've never seen him work out, but he's got to have a gym hidden around here somewhere. Those abs are tight, and when he opened the glass door to step into the shower, his muscles flexed deliciously as a billow of steam enveloped him.

My pussy twitches, and I still feel charged, my body buzzing with unspent energy.

Fucking asshole.

He got me so painfully close to climax, then just ...leaves to take a shower? And now I'm standing there like an idiot, just staring at him. And to add insult to injury, he takes his cock in hand and slowly starts stroking.

Is he teasing me? Is that what this is?

But he's not even looking at me.

I just watch, frozen to the spot, as he strokes his own cock—moving from base to tip, then back down again in one fluid motion. That wrist action is smooth. It's impressive, actually.

A deep, husky groan escapes his throat, and that's it. That's all I can withstand. I should just take the hint and leave, but now I'm pissed.

Storming up to the shower, I wrench the glass door open. Even that doesn't get him to look at me, which converts my anger to rage. How can he be eating me out one minute, and then completely ignoring me the next?

I want to believe this is all just a game, as is usually the case with him. But there's something about how he said, "I can't do this," that has me wondering. It didn't feel like a manipulation. It felt like an abrupt realization on his part, and I'm confused, hurt, angry, all of the emotions.

Fuck him.

He continues to stroke himself slowly as I step into the shower with him, closing the glass door behind me. This is an old house, but it's clear the bathroom had been renovated at some point recently because the shower itself is huge. It's easily as big as half my dorm room.

I step into the warm stream of water until I'm practically toe-to-toe with him. Only then does his gaze shift to me. His eyes travel from my toes, upward, catching on my breasts for a second before traveling the rest of the way to my face.

When he speaks, his tone is hard. "You need to leave."

Yeah, I probably should. But my body is still hungry for the release he just denied me. And seeing him like this…wet, and naked, pleasuring himself, is affecting my judgment.

"I'm not leaving."

In the flash of a millisecond, he lunges at me, hand clamped around my jaw as he slams me against the shower wall. The breath is knocked out of me, and it happens so quickly, I'm gasping.

His face is nearly touching mine, his head tilted, and his voice is demonic. It doesn't even sound like him. "I told you to leave," he says harshly. "You never fucking listen."

Every single cell in my body instantly switches into panic mode. My heart is racing, and I'm clawing at his hand, desperately trying to get him to release me.

He shifts his body, so the hard ridge of his cock is pressing lengthwise against my mound, biting in painfully. I'm completely surrounded by him. Trapped yet again, but this feels different, more sinister, like a dark shadow has come over him.

"You think you're so smart," he says. "But you don't know shit. I've tried to warn you about the darkness inside me, and yet here you are, begging me to fuck you."

Okay, begging is a bit harsh. But I'm too afraid to say that, so I just shake my head. "You've been chasing me," I point out. "You're the one who dragged me up to your room."

I mean, seriously, who dragged who into all of this shit? From the beginning, it's been him pursuing me—and now he's acting like I'm the one falling at his feet, begging for his attention, like every other girl on campus. That, more than anything, sends a wave of shame crashing over me.

He ignores my statement, though, and the way he's looking at me…damn, I've really fucked up. He looks like the devil, staring into me like he wants to rip me apart. His grip tightens on my jaw a fraction more, and it's more than I can take. I wince, and a tear rolls down my cheek. "I'll leave," I choke out.

If I expected my tears to soften him, then I was dead wrong. His lips curl up into a demonic smile, and he leans in closer, brushing his bottom lip across mine. "Nah, you had your chance to escape," he says. "Now I think I'll introduce you to every dark crevice in my twisted mind."

Initially, I'm not really sure what he means by that, but a breath later, his hand slides down to my throat, and he holds me against the wall like that, water pouring down on us both. I can still breathe, but the pressure is a stark reminder that I'm breathing only because he's allowing it.

Fear careens through me, and I suddenly feel dizzy. I know what that means. It means a panic attack is coming on, and I'm in real danger of passing out. I blink rapidly and try to calm my breathing, but it's almost impossible considering Roman is triggering every single trauma response I have.

"Please," I say, swallowing, shifting on my feet. "Just let me leave."

A sardonic chuckle emerges from those cruel lips. "You know, all this time, I've been keeping myself in check." With his hand still around my throat, he uses his thumb to lift my chin. "Playing nice. But I'm tormented by you. I'm tormented by the things I want to do to you."

I swallow, pressing my lips together. The panic is getting stronger, and my heart is racing so fast that I know it's only a matter of seconds before I'll be fighting off a full-blown panic attack. "Please," I say again, trying to plead with him. It's all I can think to do. My usual fight is gone. "This was a mistake. I'm sorry."

With his left hand, he reaches over and turns the shower off. As soon as the water is turned off, silence engulfs us, and I consider screaming. But he's the one in control as his hand on my throat reminds me. So I stay silent, and just pray he'll come to his senses and release me.

"Yeah," he says. "You and I have always been a mistake. But it's too late now. You've infected me. You slither through my veins like a virus, and now, all I can think about is you."

I've heard something similar before, from someone else, and that didn't end well. I can't believe I've put myself in this situation again.

He releases my throat, and I sag against the wall, pulling in gulps of air, still trying to fight off that impending panic attack. That's not happening, though, because he grabs a fistful of my hair, and pulls me out of the shower, into the bedroom.

I'm soaking wet—we both are—and the cold air makes me shiver.

"On the bed," he orders me.

I glance at it, but I don't climb onto it. Tears are streaming down my face, and I'm trying to work out how I'm going to escape this. Roman has always been a dark horse, but this side of him terrifies me.

I glance at the door. It's the only exit, and it's about thirty feet away. I'm buck-ass-naked, but I don't even care about that. Without even formulating a full plan, I lunge for the door. But of course Roman catches me easily, wrapping his large arms around me, and forcing me down onto the mattress.

At that point, I realize I'm not going anywhere. I'm trapped and at his absolute mercy.

"You're a fucking monster," I choke out, and I feel that deep in my bones.

"You have no fucking clue how true that is," he says darkly, reaching for something I can't see. "Maybe it's time I give you a taste of just how monstrous I can be…"