Chapter Seven — A Willing Prisoner
661 Words
The night air was thick with the scent of rain, the distant rumble of thunder a warning.
I sat on the edge of the grand canopy bed, my fingers curled into the silk sheets. My new cage.
Everything in this room screamed luxury—velvet drapes, gold-trimmed furniture, a crystal chandelier casting fractured light across the walls.
But beneath all of it… I felt the weight of my choices.
I had walked into this willingly.
Not because I wanted to.
But because it was the lesser evil.
If I hadn’t, my family would have sold me to the highest bidder without a second thought.
At least this way, I chose my own monster.
And Rhys Evander Kain?
He was the kind of monster that swallowed people whole.
The door creaked open.
And there he was.
Tall. Dark. Dangerous.
His presence sucked the air out of the room.
I lifted my chin, refusing to show weakness.
“You’re not locked in,” Rhys said, his voice smooth, amused. “You can walk out anytime.”
I exhaled slowly. “And where would I go?”
His lips twitched.
“Nowhere,” he admitted. Like I already belonged to him.
I clenched my jaw. “Then don’t pretend I have a choice.”
Rhys stepped forward. His gaze never left mine as he undid the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up with slow precision. Like he had all the time in the world.
Like he knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
"You did have a choice, Naomi." His voice was silk over steel. Commanding. Unshakable. "And you made it."
A shiver traced down my spine.
Because he was right.
And that was the most terrifying part.
---
Owned. Not Broken.
He reached for me then—slow, deliberate.
His fingers found my wrist, his touch firm but not forceful.
I stiffened.
Not from fear.
But from something far more dangerous.
He tilted his head, watching me. “You’re shaking.”
I forced a breath. “I’m not.”
Rhys hummed, unconvinced. His thumb brushed over the pulse at my wrist. Steady. Claiming.
“You made your choice,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Now you’ll live with it.”
I swallowed.
Because hadn’t I already accepted that?
This wasn’t about regret.
It wasn’t even about hating him.
It was about what came next.
I had given myself to him.
And he wasn’t going to let me forget it.
---
He pulled me closer, a whisper of space between us. The scent of him—dark spice and power—wrapped around me.
"Do you regret it?"
His question slithered through the silence.
I should have said yes.
Should have fought. Should have pretended that this—his touch, his presence—meant nothing.
But my silence was answer enough.
Rhys smiled.
Something dark. Something victorious.
He reached for my chin, tilting my face up. Forcing me to meet his gaze.
“You don’t belong to them anymore, Naomi.”
His thumb brushed the corner of my lip, slow and deliberate.
"You belong to me."
--
I inhaled sharply. A warning. A dare.
Rhys didn’t flinch.
Instead, he lifted a brow. “You’re waiting for me to break you, aren’t you?”
The words struck something deep in my chest.
I hated how much he understood me.
“I don’t break,” I said.
Rhys leaned in, his lips barely an inch from mine.
"We’ll see."
The air between us crackled.
And then, he kissed me.
Not gentle. Not soft.
It was possession. Control. A silent reminder that I had walked into his world—and now, I had to survive in it.
---
The kiss ended, but the war between us had only just begun.
I wasn’t naïve.
I knew what I had given up.
I knew what I had chosen.
And Rhys?
He was going to make sure I never forgot.
She was a willing prisoner stuck in his game.
- Writer
