Bitter Truths (Crimson Falls Duet 2)

“That’s all for you, little one,” Darius promises, grinding his hips against me. “Would you like us both inside your fragile body?” he asks, his words a warm hiss of pleasure when I push back against him in an attempt to free myself, but all I only succeed in turning him on further.

“You don’t want to do this,” I warn him, shutting my eyes so tight, attempting to focus, to calm my erratic breaths. My hands shove at his chest, but he’s more than double my size. Memories assault me, but even with those come shame, so I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “If you hurt me, there is no going back from that, Darius.”

He stills.

It’s true. And he knows it.

If something happened to me, Lycan would kill his brother.

“Stay here,” he says finally, stepping away from me. His hand grips my arm, and he tugs me away from the door before he opens it and steps out into the hallway. “And if you try anything, and I do mean anything, I won’t think twice about binding you to my bed.” He shuts the heavy wooden door and leaves me glaring at the grain. The lock clicks, and I realize I’m in this for the long haul. There is no escape. The same way I was a prisoner of Lycan’s for so long, I’m now stuck with his brother.

Sighing, I move to the window. The heavy curtains are open, and I can see far beyond the high walls that surround the house. In the distance is a city, but I can’t really tell from here where I am. There isn’t many houses close by, and when I open the window, breathing in the fresh air, I can’t smell the ocean, so at least I’m sure we’re not on the coast.

Leaving the window, I pad over to the wardrobe which I find is a large walk in, and inside are rows of denim and leather. Heavy biker boots sit in tidy rows on the carpet, and in the center of the space is a countertop with drawers. I try each one, finding them locked, and instinct tells me there could be weapons inside.

Abandoning my search, I head back into the bedroom and to the door opposite the closet. Inside is a bathroom which is smaller than I expect, with only a shower above the corner tub, and a single wash basin which has a mirror hanging above it.

When I glance at my reflection, I gasp. My hair is a mess, and tears have distorted my perfectly made-up face. I quickly open the tap and splash my face. I grab the bar of soap sitting in its dish and lather up my hands before scrubbing my palms over my cheeks and my closed eyes.

By the time I’m done, I look refreshed, and my hair looks partly normal with just using my fingers to run through the unruly strands. I step back and consider changing my clothes. Maybe even showering. But I’m not sure when Darius is going to come back, and if he does, I don’t want him to find me naked.

The thought of him knowing about my needs, my desires, and knowing about what Lycan and I have done makes me nervous. Yes, I’ve found solace in the way Lycan would pin me down, in the way he’d push inside me, force himself on top of me, it made me come harder than I ever have. Even just the memory seems to cause the burn on my cheeks and my stomach to twist with need.

I recall the first time I read about it. I’d picked up a novel, wanting to get lost in the wispy romance, but in the end, it was the darkness that enveloped me, and I was lost to the depraved acts. Reading about how the woman enjoyed being out of control, how she loved having the heaviness of her partner pinning her down, I found myself entranced.

When I did finally have sex, it wasn’t even close to what I’d fantasized about. I thought I was broken, that I couldn’t orgasm, no matter how many times I had been with Bryden, my ex from college. He was sweet, gentle, and as much as I wanted to enjoy it, my needs ran darker.

My mind played out the scenarios I read about. And only then could I find my release. And now Darius knows about those cravings as well.

Back in the bedroom, I settle on the mattress and curl up, leaning my head on the soft pillows. The comfortable mattress makes me sigh. My eyes flutter as weariness overtakes me.

“Don’t go into the garden at night.” A warning. A threat.

Eyes follow me as I meander through the house. I can feel them, but I can’t see them. Someone is out there. Perhaps that’s why my father told me not to go out at night when I was little. This house has been haunted for a long time. I read stories about the old Bardot mansion, but I never truly realized just how eerie it is.