Taken by Lies (Truth or Lies 1)

I kick off my shoes, remove my suit jacket, and loosen my tie before climbing into bed next to her. I don’t dare take off any more clothes. My self-control is already hanging on a thread as it is. I can’t feel her skin to skin.

But as I wrap my hot skin against her cool ice, I feel every part of her connect with me.

Body.

Heart.

Soul.

What are you doing to me, pretty girl? And why do you have this hold over me?

I pull her tighter to my body, our skin regulating each other’s temperature and bodies as we doze while we wait for the doctor to arrive. My cock hardens, pressing against her ass.

Not going to happen, I try to convince my cock, but to no avail.

And I know that as I hold her, I can never touch her again. I’m the devil, but I’m done being a monster to her. I will stay far away. She will be safe as long as she never leaves these four walls. And I will continue to be the monster with power over the world, and control everything, except her.

17

Kai

The chill returns to my body. My eyes fly open.

Where am I?

What happened?

I’m in the most magnificent room I’ve ever seen in either real life or a magazine.

The bed I’m lying on is enormous. Much bigger than a traditional king. It’s a white canopy bed with white linen sheets softer than a pile of feathers. Floor to ceiling windows line the wall, giving me a view of a balcony most people would pay a fortune to sit on, because it has the most unobscured, private view of turquoise blue water I’ve ever seen. You can’t even see any sailboats on the horizon, that’s how reclusive it feels. Like you are on your own tranquil piece of paradise.

But I want to sprint over to the curtains and pull them shut, blocking out the fucking sun and the divine view that makes my stomach want to hurl.

I chuckle to myself when I notice the see-through curtains. There is nothing in this room that will block out the sun’s rays.

I stare down at the stark white sheets and comforter covering my body. They may be made of the softest fabrics known to earth, but they irritate my skin—making me feel like I need to scratch my reddened flesh like I have the chicken pox.

I can’t decide if I’d rather bury myself under the covers to block out the sun or throw the scratchy covers from my body.

I try to remember where I am and how I got here.

Enzo.

I remember the club. I remember losing the game. I remember collapsing.

Shit.

I collapsed. Passed out. That’s the one thing I never wanted to let happen. Because when I’m unconscious, I can’t control what happens to me. I can’t fight. I can’t prevent the torture.

My body stills. But I don’t feel the usual pain that comes after being abused. I don’t think I was touched…

But I remember being warm.

How is that possible? I never feel warm. Even with the light shining in and the mountain of covers on top of me, I’m not warm.

Now, I’m cold. It must have been a dream of feeling snug.

I actually feel colder than usual.