MY CRUEL PROTECTOR

Chapter 7: Scars of War

POV RUBY

The silence that followed our kiss was almost more violent than the confrontation itself. Nevan remained leaning against the wall, his torso bare and his freshly stitched wound throbbing under the dim light of the stove. I took a few steps back, rubbing my lips with the back of my hand, trying to erase the sensation of his mouth, but it was useless; the taste of him was etched on my palate.

My hands were still stained with his blood. I went to the small sink and let the cold water run over my fingers. The red liquid swirled down the drain, disappearing, but the sensation of his skin under my fingertips did not wash away with the water.

"Are you going to be like this all night, Ruby?" he asked. His voice was now a low murmur, tired but with that edge of authority that never left him. "Staring at the water as if it will give you the answers you don't dare to ask?"

I turned off the tap and turned around. He had stood up with obvious effort, gritting his teeth to keep from groaning. He walked over to the table and, from a small hidden compartment in his boot, took out a phone I had never seen before. It wasn't a normal cell phone; it was thick, with a sturdy antenna and a screen that emitted a cold blue glow.

"Who are you talking to?" I asked, my curiosity finally overcoming my fear. "You said we were alone in this."

Nevan didn't answer right away. He typed a quick message, his fingers moving with mechanical precision. His eyes reflected the light from the screen, making them almost electric in the dim light.

"Just confirming that the trail has gone cold," he said, setting the device down on the table with a sharp thud. "Not everyone looking for me is as careless as Julian Vane. There are people out there who don't understand the concept of 'surrender.'"

He approached me, and even though he walked with a slight limp, his presence was still overwhelming. He stopped in front of the stove, and the light from the fire illuminated the tattoos on his back once more. I was mesmerized by one in particular on his left shoulder blade: an ancient shield intertwined with thorns and an iron crown. It didn't look like the design of a common tattoo parlor; it had the symmetry of an official seal, of a coat of arms that demanded respect.

"That tattoo..." I murmured, taking an involuntary step toward him. "It's not just decoration, is it?"

Nevan tensed. For a second, I saw a shadow cross his face, something that was neither wickedness nor desire, but an ancient weight. He turned slowly, hiding the design from my view.

"It's a mark of belonging, Ruby. One I hope you never have to truly understand."

"You talk as if you're part of something bigger," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You always talk about 'us' or 'the people who paid for this cabin.' I thought you were a mercenary, a lone wolf who sold himself to the highest bidder."

Nevan let out a dry laugh, without a trace of humor. He moved so close that I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. The heat radiating from his body was almost unbearable.

"A lone wolf doesn't last long in this world, sweetheart. To survive men like Vane, you need a pack. One that's darker and older than any law you've studied in your books."

"A pack?" Like a criminal gang?" I asked, trying to put the pieces together.

He reached out and stroked my hair, tangling his fingers in the coppery strands with a gentleness that threw me off balance. "Let's just say my family has very specific traditions about protecting what they consider theirs. And right now, you are the most valuable thing in my custody."

His words had a double meaning that made me shudder. He wasn't talking about me as a protected witness, but as a treasure, or property. His finger trailed down my jaw until it stopped at the center of my throat, right where my pulse was beating hard.

"Tell me something, Nevan," I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling. The man in the gallery... Vane. He seemed afraid of you when you mentioned your name. It wasn't the fear of an ordinary killer. It was the fear of someone you can't negotiate with. Who are you really?

Nevan smiled, and this time it was that wicked smile that made my knees feel like jelly. He leaned toward my ear, his hot breath brushing my skin.

"I'm the man who's going to keep you alive, Ruby. And I'm also the man who's going to make you forget everyone else. For now, that's all you need to know."

He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me toward him with a sharp tug. His hand sank into my lower back, forcing me to feel the hardness of his body against mine. Desire exploded in my belly again, a physical need that erased any trace of logic. He knew exactly what he was doing to me; he knew that my revulsion was a lie that crumbled every time he touched me.

"You're hungry," he said, changing the subject with irritating ease. "I'm going to cook that rabbit. Then you're going to sleep. Tomorrow we move."

"We're moving? Where to?"

"Somewhere where the rules are different," he replied, turning away to find a knife. "Somewhere where you'll understand that there are cages much bigger than this cabin, Ruby. And that in some of them, the queen has to learn to bite."

I stood there in the middle of the room, feeling smaller than ever. Nevan moved around the kitchen with lethal grace, ignoring the pain in his ribs as if it were nothing more than a minor annoyance. I looked again at the tattoo on his back as he moved. It looked like a throne, a symbol of power that didn't fit with the image of a simple mercenary hiding in the mountains.

I felt a twinge of something that wasn't fear, but a dark premonition. Nevan wasn't hiding me from the world; he was preparing me to enter his. A world where names carried weight and where the man who had stalked me for months could turn out to be someone much more important, and much more dangerous, than I ever dared to imagine.

I sat on the bed, wrapping myself in the gray T-shirt that smelled like him, watching the shadows dance on the walls. I didn't know who Nevan was, but I did know one thing: the Ruby Lane who walked into that gallery had died that night. The woman in this cabin, longing for the touch of a monster, was someone completely new. And I had a terrible suspicion that Nevan had been designing her, detail by detail, long before he captured me.

Chapter 8: The Weight of a Crown of Shadows

POV RUBY

The SUV devoured miles of asphalt and gravel as we ventured into an area of Ireland that didn't appear in tourist brochures. Here, the trees were denser and the hills seemed to hide secrets that no one dared to unearth. Nevan drove in tense silence, his right hand resting heavily on my thigh. Despite my attempts to brush it away at the beginning of the trip, now its warmth felt like a necessary mark, an anchor amid the chaos that was my life.

"Why are you staring at me so much, Ruby?" he asked without taking his eyes off the road. His voice had that hint of superiority that set my blood boiling. Are you trying to memorize my features before I throw you to the lions, or have you finally accepted that you can't stop wanting me?"

"You're an egomaniac," I replied, feigning disgust that crumbled with every mile. "I'm just trying to understand how a man like you ended up living like an animal in a cabin. You don't fit in anywhere, Nevan."

He let out a dark laugh and squeezed my thigh, his fingers digging into the fabric of my sweatpants.

"I fit right where I want to be, beautiful. The cabin was for your safety. But here..." He pointed ahead, where a huge black iron gate stood between two stone pillars. "Here, the rules are mine."

The gates opened before we reached them, moved by some invisible mechanism. The SUV drove down a path flanked by guards armed with tactical rifles. My breath caught. These weren't careless mercenaries; they moved with the discipline of a private army. As the vehicle passed, each and every one of them stood at attention, bowing their heads in a gesture of respect that left me frozen.

"Nevan?" I whispered, feeling a knot of anxiety in my stomach. "What is this place?"

He didn't answer. He stopped the car in front of a stately gray stone mansion that screamed ancient wealth and absolute power. Before the engine had even finished cutting out, a mature man, dressed in a suit that cost more than my car, approached the driver's door and opened it.

"Welcome home, Boss," said the man, bowing his head in a bow that brooked no argument.

Nevan got out of the car, regaining the imposing posture that the pain of his injuries seemed to have momentarily erased. He walked around the vehicle and opened my door. When he saw me, the man in the suit took a step back, assessing me with a look that made me feel like a piece of a private collection.

"Is this her?" the man asked.

"This is her," Nevan replied with a possessiveness that made my skin crawl. "And no one, absolutely no one, approaches her without my permission. Is that clear, Silas?"

"Crystal clear, Boss. The council awaits you in the main hall. There are urgent matters concerning the northern territories."

Nevan grabbed my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine with a force that said "you are mine," and forced me downstairs. As we walked toward the mansion's entrance, the staff and armed men moved aside as we passed. The words "Boss" and "Sir" whispered with a mixture of fear and devotion filled the air.

We entered the grand foyer. The ceiling was a glass dome, and the polished marble floor reflected the chandeliers. Everything here was opulent, cold, and commanding. I realized that Nevan was not just a mercenary who had rescued me for money or some cheap obsession. The scars, the coldness, the way the world bowed down to him... it all took on new meaning.

"You lied to me," I said, stopping abruptly at the foot of the grand staircase. I forced him to look at me. "You're not an independent 'protector.' You're... you're one of them. Worse than Vane."

Nevan let go of my hand and took a step toward me, cornering me against one of the marble columns. His shadow covered me completely.

"Vane is a scavenger, Ruby," he hissed, his face inches from mine. "I am the owner of the land where he tries to hunt. I told you this place was different. Here, my word is law, and my law is to keep you by my side, whether you like it or not."

He leaned in, brushing my ear with his lips, ignoring the guards watching from the shadows. "Tell me, Ruby... do you still feel that 'disgust' now that you see who I really am? Or does power excite you as much as danger?"

I felt a spasm of pure, treacherous desire. Seeing him like this, surrounded by his empire, being called "boss" by men who were scary, made my insides melt. My mind screamed that he was a monster, but my body responded to his dominance with an intensity that frightened me. I was excited, wet, and terribly lost.

"I hate you," I lied, even though my hands rose to his chest, squeezing his dark shirt.

"You want me," he corrected, his hand sliding down my back to squeeze my buttocks, pressing me against his erection in front of his entire empire. And tonight, in my bed, in my house, you're going to stop pretending. Because here you have nowhere to run, and I no longer have any reason to hold back.

He released me abruptly, leaving me trembling and breathless. He turned to Silas, who was waiting a few feet away with his eyes downcast.

"Take her to my room. Have a bath prepared for her and clothes fit for a queen. If a single hair on her head is missing, I will burn this place down with all of you inside."

Nevan walked away toward the main hall, his footsteps echoing with the confidence of a king returning to his throne. I stood there, staring at his back, realizing that the cabin had been child's play. Now I was at the heart of a mobster's empire, and the man who had stalked me for months didn't just want me in his bed; he wanted me in his world.

And worst of all, as Silas led me upstairs, all I could think about was how the "Boss's" hands would feel on my skin now that all the masks had fallen away.

Chapter 9 : The Queen's Bath (and the Tyrant's Eye)

POV RUBY

Silas, the man in the impeccable suit, guided me through the labyrinth of marble and dark paintings. Each step echoed in the opulent silence of the mansion, and every member of staff who crossed our path lowered their gaze, a gesture of submission that reminded me again and again who Nevan was and, by extension, who I was now in this place. I was not the guest; I was the Boss's property.

He led me to a suite on the second floor that was larger than my entire apartment in Dublin. The walls were lined with silk, the bed was huge and four-postered, and the windows looked out onto a winter garden that was lost in the fog. It was a golden prison, a cage too beautiful to be real.

"The Lady," Silas began, his voice formal and icy, "has ordered a bath to be prepared and fresh clothes. The Chief will not return until the council meeting is over. Do not leave the suite without his permission.

"The Lady." The title echoed in my head like a mockery. Did they consider me his wife? His concubine? A cold rage ran through me, mixed with an excitement that burned in my gut.

When Silas left, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him, I approached the bathroom. It was a sanctuary of marble and steam. An antique lion-foot bathtub was already filled, the bubbling water releasing a scent of jasmine and sandalwood. There were lit candles, soft towels stacked neatly, and a cream-colored silk robe waiting on a chair. It was all so perfect, so calculatedly sensual, that it gave me chills.

I slowly undressed, dropping Nevan's gray T-shirt to the floor. The cool air in the room made me shiver. My body, marked by Nevan's hands, with the memory of his kiss and his erection still fresh in my mind, felt alien to me. I stepped into the bathtub, sighing as the hot water enveloped my skin. It was a feeling of luxury I hadn't experienced in years, a balm for my tense muscles and exhausted mind.

I closed my eyes, trying to erase the images of Nevan, of the man in the gallery, of the photos that proved my life had been his long before this kidnapping. But it was useless. His face, his blue eyes, the way his husky voice pronounced my name... it all invaded me.

My hand slid down my thigh, under the water, exploring my own skin with a curiosity that was not only mine, but also his. He had lit a fire in me that I didn't know how to extinguish. My fingertips brushed the soft skin of my groin, and the memory of his hand on me in the car, his finger torturing me in the previous chapter, came back with overwhelming force.

A moan escaped my lips. I curled up in the bathtub, the water rising up my neck as I caressed myself with a desperation that embarrassed me. It wasn't just pleasure; it was a search for control, an attempt to reclaim my own body from the clutches of his possession. Steam filled my lungs, and every caress of my fingers was a reminder of the closeness we had shared, of the promise of more.

My thighs opened under the water, and my fingers found the sensitive knot of my pleasure. I moaned again, louder this time, my head falling back as I surrendered to the sensation. Waves of pleasure washed over me, each more intense than the last, erasing the outside world, erasing fear, erasing Nevan... or so I thought.

Just as the climax was about to break me, I opened my eyes.

The sight froze my blood.

Nevan was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe. He had changed out of his wet clothes and was now wearing a black silk shirt that hugged his broad shoulders, but his eyes were the same: steel blue, intense, and now filled with a wicked amusement that made me want to sink beneath the water. He hadn't missed a thing. He had been watching me.

My face flushed with such deep embarrassment that I couldn't breathe. I covered myself with my hands, trying to make myself small in the bathtub, but it was too late. He had seen everything.

"So this is what you do when you think you're alone, huh, Ruby?" His voice was a low whisper, but the sound filled the bathroom, echoing in every corner. "You don't disgust yourself now, do you? Or do you only disgust yourself when I'm the one touching you?"

Nevan entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft but definitive slam. He approached the bathtub, his steps slow and deliberate, each one a silent threat. He knelt beside me, the candlelight casting long, dark shadows across his hard face.

"It's... it's not what it looks like," I stammered, my voice trembling.

He smiled, a crooked smile that made me tremble. He reached out a hand and, with torturous slowness, brushed the wet skin of my thigh protruding from the water. His touch was fire.

"Oh, beautiful, it's exactly what it looks like," he said, his voice hoarse and laden with unholy intimacy. "You're desperate. You're wet. And you can't even lie to yourself that it wasn't my memory that was pushing you over the edge. I saw it in your eyes. My name in your moans.

He moved closer, his face inches from mine, the scent of his skin mingling with the jasmine in the bathroom.

"You have no control, Ruby. You have so little that you have to touch yourself thinking about the man who has you locked up. And let me tell you something..." His voice dropped to a whisper that made every hair on my body stand on end. "That's f*****g exciting."

His hand moved up, his fingers brushing the edge of the tub, making my body tense. He looked directly into my eyes, his burning with an insatiable fire.

"I like that you touch yourself for me," he said, his voice dirtier than any words he had ever spoken before. "I like that you're desperate to feel me. But you know what I'd like even more, Ruby."

My breath caught. I could only stare at him, trapped by his gaze.

"I'd like you to ask me to finish what you started. To ask me to make you scream my name not just in your head, but out loud, until the servants on the other side of this mansion know exactly who owns you."

He jumped up, breaking the bubble of intimacy that surrounded us. He walked over to the towel rack, picked up the silk robe, and held it out to me.

"Get out of the water, Ruby. And get dressed. The council has finished its meeting. And I have business to attend to in my room."

He looked at me one last time, that wicked smile etched on his face, before turning and leaving the bathroom, leaving the door open.

I stood there, shivering in the water that now felt cold. The shame was a sharp pang, but beneath it, an even more powerful excitement ran through me. He had seen me. He had provoked me. And now, he was waiting for me. The fear was real, but the desire was undeniable. I knew that when I stepped out of that bathtub, I would cross a threshold from which there would be no turning back.

Chapter 10: The Price of Innocence

POV RUBY

I emerged from the bathroom with trembling legs, wrapped in the cream-colored silk robe that felt like a sinful caress on my still-damp skin. Nevan's master bedroom was an extension of his own personality: vast, dark, and decorated with an elegance that bordered on military. The shadows of the velvet curtains were cast over the four-poster bed, and the only sound was the crackling of the wood in the black marble fireplace.

He stood there, next to the bay window, looking out over the mansion's grounds with a cut-glass goblet in his hand. He was no longer wearing the silk shirt; he had left it open, revealing the white bandage I had placed over his wound, now slightly stained with red. Hearing my footsteps, he turned with the slowness of a predator who knows his prey has nowhere to run.

"You took your time, Ruby," he said, his raspy voice cutting through the air like a knife. His eyes scanned my body from top to bottom, lingering on the neckline of my robe. "It suits you better than I imagined. Although nothing suits you as well as water and sin."

I felt my cheeks burning again at the memory of the bathtub. I crossed my arms, trying to maintain a shred of dignity.

"Are you going to keep taunting me, or are you going to tell me what's next in this insane game?" I asked, trying to sound firm.

Nevan set the glass on an antique table and walked toward me. With each step, his presence seemed to fill the entire room, stealing my oxygen. He stopped a few inches away, forcing me to tilt my head back to hold his gaze.

"Game? No, Ruby. This stopped being a game the moment you walked into my house," he whispered, reaching out to catch a strand of my wet hair and twirling it around his finger. "But I've realized something interesting. Something that didn't appear in my detailed reports on your life.

His thumb brushed my lower lip, and I felt that electric spasm that was already becoming an addiction. He leaned in, his face millimeters from mine, his breath tasting of whiskey and desire, burning my skin.

"You observe yourself with a curiosity that isn't typical of someone with experience," he murmured, his blue eyes turning dark as a storm. "Your body responds to me in such a pure, unfiltered way that it almost seems... untouched."

I froze. The humiliation was replaced by a vulnerability so raw that I wanted to disappear. I tried to pull away, but Nevan grabbed my waist with a force that took my breath away, pressing me against his hot body.

"Is that it, Ruby?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerously soft, almost flirtatious tone. "Are you a virgin? Have you never let anyone touch this canvas I've been studying for months?"

I couldn't answer. I looked down, unable to sustain the intensity of his discovery. Nevan let out a low laugh, a sound filled with wicked satisfaction.

"Unbelievable," he hissed. "You're surrounded by beauty and art, and no one was smart enough or brave enough to claim you. No one until me."

"I'm not property, Nevan," I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper. "And I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of... of it being with you."

He smiled, a slow smile that chilled my blood and set my insides on fire at the same time. He took a step back, releasing me, but the sensation of his hands still burned my skin. He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, watching me with a calmness that frightened me more than his aggression.

"Do you think I'm going to take you right now just because you're a gift that no one has opened?" he asked, crossing his arms over his tattooed chest. "How little you know me, beautiful. I don't just want your body. I want you to beg me for it. I want your innocence to cry out for me to destroy it."

I stood there in the middle of the room, feeling small under his "Boss" gaze.

"I'm not going to beg you for anything," I said, even though my body was still vibrating with excitement.

"You will," he assured me. "Because now we're going to play a new game. You're going to sleep in this bed with me. Every night. You're going to feel my warmth, you're going to smell my skin, and you're going to know that I'm inches away, but I'm not going to lay a hand on you until you can't stand another second of silence.

He walked over to the fireplace and threw in a new log, sending sparks flying. He turned to look at me one last time before turning off the main light, leaving the room bathed in the red glow of the fire.

"Lie down, Ruby. The Boss has plenty of patience for things that are worth it," he said, pointing to the right side of the bed. "And believe me, discovering the sounds you make when you finally surrender... is something I'm willing to wait a hundred lifetimes for."

I got into bed, covering myself up to my chin, feeling the weight of his gaze even in the darkness. Nevan lay down beside me, not touching me, but his mere presence was like a fire. I could feel his breath, his heartbeat, and the power that emanated from him. I knew this "game" was much crueler than any physical attack. I was locked in a golden cage with a man who was not only a mobster, but the owner of my darkest desires.

I closed my eyes, knowing the battle was already lost. The Ruby Lane of before would never have accepted this, but the woman now lying in this bed, wanting him to break his own rule, was a stranger Nevan had created for himself.