CHAPTER TWELVE

That night had shifted something between us, though I couldn't quite place what. It was more than just the physical connection. There was an unspoken agreement now, a tether between us that was growing tighter with each passing moment. The next two days passed in a blur of tangled sheets, deeper conversations, and the constant weight of his presence.

It wasn't that Alexander was around all the time—he wasn't. He worked from his home office, disappearing behind closed doors for hours at a time, immersed in his endless responsibilities.

Even when I couldn't physically see him, I could sense his presence lingering in my mind like a shadow. Without fail, he would appear. He always knew where to find me. Before I could even process his arrival, he'd pull me into an embrace. During those days, he would lose himself inside of me no less than twice - often in the late afternoon as the sun cast long shadows across the estate, or in the quiet hours of the morning.

Each time, it was as if he couldn't get enough of me. And I was just as insatiable - responding to him with equal desire despite the internal conflict brewing within me. No matter what task occupied me at the time, when he wanted me, he took me. This occasion was no different. I had been walking from the back deck with a book in my hand, engrossed in learning everything I could about Stygian Isle, enraptured yet disturbed by all the details I absorbed like a sponge.

"There you are," he murmured.

As soon as his arm was wrapped around my waist, I could feel the electricity between us. His touch sent a jolt of excitement and anticipation down my spine, but I leaned into it, unable to resist the magnetic pull towards him. Despite how suffocating his presence could be at times, I craved it like an addictive drug, completely consumed by his dark charisma. He whispered in my ear, "I have twenty minutes before my next meeting."

In one smooth motion, he gently took the book from my hand and placed it on the end table next to the cozy couch that overlooked a stunning view of the glass doors and beyond. He cupped my face in his large hands and brought his lips down on mine, igniting a passion that mirrored our mutual hunger.

"I need to be inside you," he growled against my mouth.

With practiced ease, he moved my body like a doll, positioning me bent over the back of the couch, facing the tranquil scene of the glimmering lake and distant lighthouse.

His hands swiftly removed all layers of clothing, exposing our skin to the cool air. My dress was lifted over my hips while he pulled aside my underwear. In one swift motion, his slacks and briefs were lowered just enough to free his cock.

His hand traced a path up my thigh, my body already responding with a growing wetness. His touch was like fire, igniting every nerve in my body. "You're always so eager," he praised, his fingers exploring between my legs with practiced ease. He spread me wider and then entered me in one swift motion. My upper body bent further over the large couch, a cry of pain and pleasure tearing from my mouth.

The way he felt inside me, I could not get enough of, even as a part of my mind protested. His powerful arms gripped my hips, holding me steady as he continued to move inside me with precise yet forceful thrusts.

The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room, and I could feel the vibrations reverberate through every inch of me. His hands gripped my waist harder, pulling me closer to him with each movement. The cool air had long since left our bodies, replaced with a heat that could only come from the fire between us. "Say my name, Lola."

"I..." I whimpered, unable to form the words as he drove deeper into me. My mind was in a haze, full of lust and fear all at once. The part of me that knew this wasn't right was drowned out by the all-consuming need for him. For his touch, his body, his dominance.

One hand reached for my hair and wrapped it around his fist, tugging my head back. "Say it," he demanded.

I closed my eyes, feeling the intensity of our connection build with each passing moment. Resisting seemed impossible as he continued to thrust inside me.

Fear and desire melded together within me, leaving me powerless against my own desires.

"Alexander," I heard myself moan his name and a wicked smile spread across his lips.

He leaned down, pressing his full weight against me as he whispered into my ear: "That's my girl."

He thrust harder, bringing me right to the edge of pleasure. Just when I felt like I couldn't take it anymore, he slowed down, teasing me with short shallow strokes.

"Please," I begged him.

He chuckled darkly, his seductive voice sending shivers down my spine. "That's right, deliciae . You want me, you need me." With renewed vigor, he picked up his pace again and drove deep into me. The couch groaned under our combined weight. My hands clenched onto the cushions and my eyes fluttered shut as waves of pleasure washed over me. "Alex," I moaned incoherently, unable to form any other words.

My body trembled with need, my entire being focused on him and the intense pleasure he was giving me.

"Come for me," he coaxed in a low, husky voice. "Let me feel you break apart around my cock."

I gasped, the intensity of his words sending me over the edge. I came hard, my pussy tightening around his cock. He continued to move inside me, savoring my shudders and moans until I collapsed beneath him, spent and utterly submissive. He pulled out of me, and I whimpered at the loss of his presence. Using my hair as a leash, he lifted me away from the couch and forced me down onto my knees, his cock glistening with our combined fluids inches away from my face.

I opened my mouth eagerly, his taste still intoxicating me. He tightened his grip on my hair and pulled me forward as he slid himself into my waiting mouth, groaning in pleasure as I took him deep.

I ran my tongue along his length, savoring the taste of us. I could feel him pulsating, his desperation to reach his own climax palpable. I looked up at him, meeting his unwavering gaze.

"That's it," he groaned, "Take it all. Show me you want me just as much as I want you."

I obeyed, taking him deeper into my throat, feeling his cock hit the back of my throat making me choke. I knew this would drive him insane and he loved it. He grabbed the back of my head and started thrusting, using my mouth as his personal playground. I reached up and grabbed onto his thighs for support, my own arousal heightening as I watched him use me so forcefully.

My body tensed with anticipation as his muscles tightened beneath me, every inch of him coiled with restrained energy. My hands gripped his thighs, digging in for support as he moved with a relentless pace.

Suddenly, he withdrew from my mouth and grabbed me by the back of my neck, lifting me off the ground and bending me over again.

With a rough curse, he thrust back inside me with a force that threatened to break me in two. I let out a pained moan, but my body responded to his ferocity, the pain mingling with pleasure as he fucked me hard and fast, his cock hitting every nerve ending inside me.

I came again, my moans echoing through the room. His own release was imminent, and as he neared the edge, he gripped me tighter, hitting every part of my body that needed to be hit. I could feel him swelling inside me, ready to fill me with his come. With a final, rough thrust, he let out a guttural curse as he came deep inside me, leaving me feeling both violated and ecstatic.

Our bodies slowly disentangled, his throbbing cock slipping out of me with a soft, wet pop.

He turned me around gently, his hands caressing my skin. I glanced down and saw a small smear of blood on the head. He grinned mischievously. "A little souvenir," he chuckled, wiping it away with his thumb and bringing it to his mouth to taste.

My heart fluttered at the intensity in his tiger-like eyes as he stared down at me. I reached my hand out and stroked the side of his face where the scar was, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. He leaned into my touch and slipped a hand between my legs, using his skilled fingers to gather his excess come and push it back inside of me.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, cupping the back of my head with one hand while the other continued its pleasurable ministrations. "Perfect," he added, his voice like a soothing balm. "But there's still so much more I want to show you. So much more I need to teach you."

I felt myself melting under his gaze. He had a way of unearthing every secret and thought hidden inside of me, and I found a strange sense of comfort in that. In his possession, but also in my surrender to him. As much as I craved his touch and control, however, I couldn't shake the guilt that always followed. The pang of shame that twisted in my gut whenever I gave myself over completely to him.

He lowered his mouth to mine once again, pumping his fingers in and out of my pussy until I was whimpering and moaning against him. He pulled back with a grin on his lips, whispering against mine, "I never tire of that sound. Or of you." His lips found their way to my neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses as he continued to pleasure me. The intense heat of his body enveloped mine, his breath a steady warmth against my skin. "There are secrets in this house. They've been hidden away for centuries. And there are some things I never want to reveal, never want to share. But you... I want you to know everything as much as I need to know you."

My heart raced as he began to move faster, his fingers skilled and unrelenting in their pursuit of my pleasure. My back arched, every nerve in my body electrified by his touch. Moans escaped my lips, growing louder and more urgent with each passing moment. "That's it," he murmured, watching me closely.

I cried out his name as another orgasm shook through me like a violent storm, my entire being consumed by the pleasure he was bestowing upon me. I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulder as I rode the waves of ecstasy that crashed over me.

He held me close, his embrace unwavering. When the intensity subsided and I remained trembling in his arms, he slowly withdrew his hand from between my legs. His fingers glistened with our combined arousal.

They traced a tantalizing path over my lips, leaving behind a slick trail that I couldn't resist. With eager anticipation, I opened my mouth, reveling in the taste of us that I had grown accustomed to. It was an intimacy that should have repulsed me, but instead, it only drew me deeper into his spell. A victory he took with quiet satisfaction. Just as quickly as it began, he pulled his fingers away and replaced them with his lips. When he finally pulled back, he checked the sleek watch on his wrist. It was the same kind I remembered from the very first time I saw him. Back then, I didn't even know his name or what kind of man he was, but I knew wealth when I saw it.

So did Anya.

Anya.

Her name echoed in my mind as her face flashed before my eyes - haunting me like she often did whenever I closed my eyes. My best friend had disappeared without a trace since the day we were both taken.

I imagined her trapped somewhere dark while I lived in this feverish dream of a life, always in a state of limbo. But things had changed for me now, hadn't they? The guilt nagged at me, reminding me that I had no right to be in this moment, to forget even for a second the danger that still loomed over us. It was no match for the pull I felt towards him - Alexander. And that was the most terrifying part of it all, how I was slipping into this life with him as if it were where I belonged all along.

As much as I needed to, I couldn't bring myself to hate him as much as I should. Maybe I didn't hate him at all. Every time his hands were on me, each time he kissed me like I was the air he needed to breathe, I forgot. I forgot about Anya, about the twisted reality of this place. I forgot about the looming consequences of whatever it was that bound us together.

All I could think about was him—the way he moved, the way he touched me, the way he made me feel like I was his entire world.

Whatever this was, it was dangerous.

Reckless, even.

But I couldn't stop.

His lips brushed against mine again, softer this time, as if he could sense the inner turmoil in which I was drowning. Knowing him, he did. He could read me so effortlessly. His thumb stroked the side of my face, luring me back to him and the place where nothing existed but the two of us. "How do you always do that?" I asked quietly. The question wasn't about the kiss or the touch. It was about everything. How he always seemed to know—how he always managed to pull me back when I was teetering on the edge of doubt.

He grinned at me, that maddeningly confident smile spreading across his face. "What kind of man would I be if I didn't notice how your moods change?" His hand slid down from my jaw to my collarbone, his thumb tracing circles over the pulse point there as he continued, "Your sadness, happiness, anger - they all belong to me as much as you do."

My breath caught in my throat at his words. It wasn't just the possessiveness in his tone or the way he spoke with such conviction; it was the underlying truth behind them. In this place, in his world, I wasn't just Lolita - I was his. Every emotion I felt, every thought that crossed my mind, belonged to him just as much as my body did. I searched his eyes for some sign of weakness or doubt, but all I found was that unrelenting focus and certainty.

"You can't hide anything from me, Lolita. I'll always know. Always feel it."

There was no denying what I thought to myself. He could feel every crack in the armor I tried to wear around him, every inch of me that he'd broken through. I was losing this fight, and part of me didn't even want to win.

"Like now, you're still fighting. Still clinging to some piece of yourself that believes it can stay free."

I swallowed, a knot tightening in my throat. I wanted to push back, to summon whatever strength I had left and deny him, but the truth clawed at me. He was right. Every day I fought to keep something of myself intact, convinced I could still protect my mind, my soul. He could claim my body, I gave him that willingly, but those deeper parts—they were mine. At least, they should have been.

He was chipping away at my defenses, piece by piece. Each moment with him, each surrender, left me with fewer remnants of who I used to be. In their place, I could sense him, creeping in, filling the spaces with fragments of his darkness.

"I have to get back to work," he said softly, pulling me from my thoughts. His hand slid from my waist, his touch lingering possessively before finally releasing me.

"My sister will be here soon to help you prepare for tonight."

I nodded, but my mind was already spiraling. The sun was already setting over the Isle, casting a warm glow on everything in its path. The looming anticipation of what night would bring—the Isle's Muerte—weighed heavily on my shoulders. It was a celebration in honor of Jamison's son, the one who hadn't made it, but it wasn't a funeral, not in the traditional sense anyway.

The Isle didn't mourn like the rest of the world did. Esther had explained that much, and Matron Seraphine had hinted at the ritual, though neither of them shared specific details. Their reluctance, the way their eyes flickered with unspoken knowledge, told me all I needed to know: this gathering wouldn't be something I could easily forget. Since the incident with Nicolette, there had been no more brutal punishments, but that didn't mean I had escaped the sinister nature of the Isle.

It was always there, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for an opportunity to rear its ugly head once again. The services I had attended since that night were more than enough to leave me unsettled, though they weren't outright violent. Hymns filled the air, woven in the ancient tongue of Impio, the words like shadows slithering through the congregation, coiling around each person like chains. There was a weight to them, a gravity that pulled me in even as I fought to stay grounded and no matter how hard I tried to keep them away, my eyes were always drawn to the Devil that dominated the Chapel and the statue that knelt at his feet.

There was a beauty in its horror, a strange allure that I couldn't shake no matter how much I wanted to. What unnerved me the most was the growing realization that the statue wasn't just some abstract representation. The more I studied it, the more I came to understand—it was him.

Their Diabolus . My Alexander.

Every detail, from the sharpness of his jaw to the cruel smirk on his lips, mirrored the man who held me captive in every sense of the word. I hadn't noticed it at first, but now it was undeniable. That statue wasn't merely a symbol of the Isle's devotion to their dark lord. It was a tribute to the embodiment of the Devil himself. As for the woman kneeling at his feet, she was every Electi who had come before me and every woman bound to the Isle.

She was me.

That's how I knew the Isle's Muerte wasn't going to be a typical celebration. It would be another reminder of my place, another test of how much I could endure. I wasn't sure if I was ready for it. His perceptive gaze sharpened, narrowing slightly as if he could see right through me. I couldn't hide my distress from him; it was like a spotlight shining on all of my vulnerabilities.

"I'm going to have Verity bring you something," he stated. "Drink it before we leave."

"Okay," I managed to reply. He tilted my chin up with a gentle touch, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "Kiss me," he ordered, his tone firm but still tender. I obeyed, stretching up so that I could press my lips to his. When he finally pulled away, his eyes held mine for a moment longer heavy with unspoken promises. He turned and left without another word.

I stood there, the phantom sensation of him still lingering inside me, feeling the ache between my thighs. I exhaled shakily, wondering how I would get through the night—what it would take from me this time. Alone, I moved back toward the sofa, where I had left my book, its pages still open where I'd last been reading. The words blurred before my eyes as I tried to focus, but my mind was restless. The sunlight that streamed through the windows painted everything in a warm, golden glow.

The view of the lake, calm and shimmering in the distance, became the last thing I saw as I leaned back on the sofa, the same one Alexander had bent me over earlier. The memory still made my skin prickle. My eyelids grew heavy, and before I knew it, I had dozed off, the quiet warmth of the room lulling me into a dreamless sleep.

I woke to the soft, gentle touch of Verity, her veiled form standing over me, her presence a quiet comfort. Verity was the one servitor I felt most at ease with, outside of Ambrose, who felt more like a guardian than anything else. She had a way of moving, of speaking, that never made me feel on edge.

"Miss Lolita," she said softly, her voice like a whisper through the air. "You must shower now. The others will be here soon to help you prepare."

I blinked away the remnants of sleep, slowly sitting up.

The room was now bathed in the low light of dusk. Verity motioned to the small table beside me, where a tall glass filled with a thick smoothie rested. It was different from the ones I had been drinking in the past days—this one had a richer color, a deep maroon, its surface smooth and glistening.

"This is your drink for today," she said, her tone even. "It will help."

"What is it this time?" I asked, not bothering to hide the hesitation in my voice.

Verity's head tilted ever so slightly, as if considering how much to reveal. " Sirenum Scopuli ," she replied, her voice as smooth as the drink she offered. "It's... for the ceremony tonight. To relax you."

"Only to relax me?"

She nodded, offering no further explanation. Her expression—or what little I could see of it beneath the veil—remained neutral. I hesitated for a moment longer, my fingers grazing the cool glass.

There was no point in refusing. Not with the weight of the night looming over me like a storm cloud. Alexander had made it clear earlier that I needed to be prepared. The taste was… strange. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't something I could easily describe either. It had an earthy sweetness, with a hint of bitterness beneath it, and something else that lingered at the back of my throat. It coated my tongue as I drank, the texture thick and cool.

When I finished, Verity took the glass from me, bowing her head slightly as she always did. "I wish you luck tonight, Miss Lolita," she said softly.

"Thank you," I replied softly, though I wasn't sure luck was something that could help me with what lay ahead.

Verity left the room silently, leaving me alone once more. I took a deep breath, feeling the effects of the smoothie begin to settle in my body.