Come and Get Me

THE MATRIARCH’S MALICE

The hold of the yacht tilted at a sickening fifteen-degree angle as the sea began to reclaim the vessel.

Water hissed against the heated electronics, filling the air with a thick, choking steam. But Dominic didn't feel the heat; he felt the bone-deep chill of the woman standing in the doorway.

Celia Thorne—his mother—looked exactly as she had the night of the "accident," save for the jagged scar that ran from her ear to her collarbone.

She stepped into the room, her boots crunching over the shattered glass.

"Mother," Dominic choked out, his voice cracking. "The fire... I saw the body..."

"You saw what I wanted you to see, Dominic," she said, her voice a low, melodic rasp. She ignored Elena, who was sprawled on the floor, her skin still shimmering with the blue transdermal serum.

"You were always so focused on the 'how' of medicine that you forgot the 'why' of power.

Now, the keys. Before the Atlantic swallows your genius."

Dominic’s neural-hangover was being overridden by a fresh surge of adrenaline and the raw, lingering stimulation of the serum.

Every time the boat lurched, his c**k, still slick with Elena’s moisture, rubbed against the rough fabric of his gown, sending white-hot sparks of unwanted pleasure through his spine.

"I don't have them," Dominic lied, his jaw tight. "Marcus took everything."

Celia smiled—a cold, terrifying expression that mirrored Dominic’s own.

She looked at Elena. "Nurse, you have sixty seconds to extract the biometric frequency from his subconscious.

Use whatever... 'clinical' methods you have left. Or I’ll leave you both bolted to this floor."

Celia stepped back into the shadows of the hallway, her gun trained on Dominic’s heart.

Elena scrambled up, her eyes wide with animal terror. She looked at Dominic, then at his bound hands.

The blue serum she had rubbed into her skin was peaking.

Her n*****s were so hard they looked like they might pierce the lace of her uniform, and her p***y was a weeping, swollen ache between her legs.

"Dominic, please," she sobbed, but there was a dark hunger in her voice.

"She'll do it. She’s crazier than Marcus."

Elena didn't waste time.

She threw herself back onto the table, her movements frantic and predatory. She ripped the remains of his gown away, exposing his hard c**k, which was pulsing in sync with the yacht’s dying engines.

She leaned down, taking him into her mouth with a desperate, bruising force.

Under the dual influence of the serum, the sensation was catastrophic.

Dominic felt every individual taste bud on her tongue, the wet heat of her throat, and the suction that felt like it was pulling the very marrow from his bones.

"f**k," Dominic roared, his head slamming back. "Elena, stop—"

"I can't," she muffled, her hand sliding down to grip his balls, squeezing them until he saw stars.

She knew his body better than he did.

She knew the exact pressure points to bypass his will.

She pulled back, her lips glistening, and straddled him again.

This time, she didn't just drop.

She began to grind her soaking p***y against the head of his d**k, teasing the opening, letting the pre-come act as a lubricant for the sensory hell they were about to enter.

"Give it to her," Elena whispered, her voice a ragged plea as she began to slide down, millimetre by agonising millimetre.

"Give her the keys so I can f**k you until we drown."

The entry was a sensory explosion.

Because they were both coated in the transdermal serum, the moment their skin met, a feedback loop was created.

Dominic didn't just feel his own pleasure; he felt the scorching heat of Elena’s internal walls, the way they contracted in spasms of fear and lust.

He felt the friction of his own d**k sliding against her G-spot as if it were happening to him.

"Ah!" Dominic screamed, his hips bucking upward into her.

Elena let out a high, keening wail, her back arching so far her hair brushed the steel table. She began to thrust with a violent, rhythmic desperation.

Every time her hips slammed into his, the sound of wet skin hitting skin echoed louder than the rising water in the hallway.

"The frequency..." Elena gasped, her p***y clamping down on him in a rhythmic, milking motion. "It’s... It’s 14.8... isn't it? The date of the accident..."

Dominic’s mind was a fractured mess of memories and nerve endings.

He felt the walls of his subconscious thinning.

The pleasure was too much; it was a physical weight, a liquid fire that was melting his secrets.

"14... 8... 92," Dominic groaned, his vision turning to static.

Elena didn't stop.

She pushed harder, her breasts bouncing, her n*****s dark and engorged.

She reached back, her fingers finding the sensitive spot between his hips, driving him toward a climax that felt like it would be his last.

"Yes!" Elena screamed, her body convulsing as she hit a jagged, serum-fueled orgasm.

Dominic followed, his c*m erupting into her with a force that made his entire body go rigid.

The neural-link in his brain flared blue, a holographic string of numbers appearing in his mind's eye, projected by the sheer intensity of the neural discharge.

Celia stepped back into the light, her phone out, capturing the digital ghost of the encryption key.

"Perfect," Celia said, her voice devoid of warmth. "14892.

The day I taught you how to lie, Dominic."

She reached into her pocket and tossed a small, serrated knife onto the table near Dominic’s bound hand.

"The boat sinks in five minutes," Celia said, turning toward the stairs.

"If you’re as fast with a blade as you are with your nurses, you might make it to the life-raft."

"Mother!" Dominic shouted, the water now swirling around the legs of the table.

Celia didn't look back.

"Consider this your final lesson in medical ethics, Doctor.

The patient always dies eventually."

The door to the hold slammed shut, the electronic lock fusing as the salt water hit the circuits.

Dominic and Elena were alone, still joined, still gasping, as the cold Atlantic water rose to touch their skin.

Dominic looked at the knife.

Then he looked at Elena, whose eyes were rolling back in her head from the overdose of the serum.

"Elena," Dominic rasped, struggling against the silk.

"Elena, wake up! We have to move!"

The yacht gave a final, mournful groan and began its terminal plunge.

The water reached his chest.

Dominic grabbed the knife with his teeth, his eyes burning with a new, lethal clarity.

He wasn't just going to survive.

He was going to burn the world down to find her.

The room went dark as the power failed.

In the silence, a new sound emerged: the rhythmic clicking of a second lock.

Someone else was on the boat.