Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

"One of the greatest tragedies in life is to lose your own sense of self and accept the version of you that is expected by everyone else."

― K.L. Toth

Alexsei

I winced as I peeled off the bandages from my hands, carefully inspecting the raw, reddened skin. It looked better than it did yesterday, but still a mess.

Goddamn Caia, with her soft emerald eyes, those lips like ripe cherries soaked in wine, and that body of hers... I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the thoughts, but it was pointless.

I had no fucking clue about last night—why she fought so hard to resist me, only to give in, then freeze up like she'd seen a ghost, trembling all over. I wanted to dig deeper, to figure out why she reacted like that, but the way she avoided my eyes and her eagerness to leave made me stop.

Something was definitely off with her, and part of me cursed myself for even caring.

She's supposed to be just a quick fuck, Alexsei! Damn it!

I wandered into the living room, scanning the space. The only remnants of the evening were our glasses on the table. I picked up the one Caia had used, noticing the faint trace of her rosy lipstick. Giving in to an impulse, I pressed my lips against the spot where hers had been, savoring the lingering taste of her in the last drops of water.

Too exhausted to drive back to the Manor, and with no desire to endure the freezing hour-long trek through that snow-covered hell, I decided to stay. But sleep? Nowhere in sight. My mind was a disaster, trapped between memories of her and fantasies I couldn't fucking control.

Caia Mankiev.

That woman's under my skin like poison.

Next time, I'll bring the real handcuffs.

I'll keep her tied up, helpless until she understands—until she knows what happens when she tries to pull away from me. She'll beg me not to stop, kiss me the way she did last night, desperate and raw.

When I close my eyes, I can feel her lips on mine, our tongues tangled, the way she'd bite me, testing, before soothing with a kiss. It wasn't just lust; it was something darker, like she needed me to rip apart whatever walls she had left. Every movement between us felt dangerous, electric. She was fucking starving for my touch, and I knew it.

Then those sounds she made— fucking hell, those desperate, needy moans that only fueled the fire burning in my chest.

Every time I sucked on her tongue, I felt her surrender, like she couldn't help herself. She melted against me, and I had her for a split second.

I can't stop thinking about it. I've got this relentless urge to do things to her—things she's never dreamed of. All I wanted was to make her cum so hard she'd never look at anyone else, never want anything that didn't have my fucking name on it.

She'd be mine, body and soul, and she wouldn't even have the will to fight it.

Mine.

I hate that word. Hate how women get all clingy after you fuck them, like they own a piece of you. But with her... it's different. There's no getting away from it. She's in my head, twisting me up inside, and I can't fucking stand it.

I don't care about anything except having her again.

I thought it was just her body I wanted, just for one night. But that was a lie.

I want all of her, every part.

And I won't fucking stop until she's mine.