A Ruthless Kind of Love

Chains of Silk

The city fell behind in shards of white, red, and gold as Damien's automobile cut across the night. Outside, the world was a blinding light and sound, but inside the smooth black vehicle, there was quiet, something to be clung to.

Elena sat rigid in the passenger seat, her damp hands flat against the chill of the leather. Her heart was still not fully returned to its normal tempo from the shoot-out at the restaurant. All her nerves still screamed danger. She could still hear the crackle of bullets, the shattering of broken glass, the guffaws of hard men as Damien swept her onto his lap like a trophy to be displayed.

She had never felt this helpless.

Never this little.

The car smelled slightly of leather and Damien's cologne-spicy, smoky, unavoidable. She wrapped herself into the seat, trying to merge into it.

Damien's face was carved out of granite. His jaw clenched, muscle creaking every now and again. Eyes on the road, never so much as blinking, tougher than steel. He was already planning how he was going to reduce the entire city to ashes in retaliation after it had clearly attempted to cross him.

There was an oppressive silence. It wrapped around her throat so that she could hardly get a breath.

And then Elena spoke, her voice not much more than a whisper. "I can't do this."

Slowly Damien's head moved, as a hunter feels the movement of the beast that had been dumb enough to wake up. His eyes locked with hers, dark and unmoving. "Can't do what, Elena?" His tone was quiet, but under it was the promise of violence.

She swallowed hard, her dry throat. "This-this your world." Her voice cracked with her terror. "The guns, the dying, the blood. I can't-"

She was cut off by a cold, harsh laughter. The kind of laughter that sent shivers down her spine.

You really think you get to just walk away?

He took his breath in, his tone icy. His knuckles were white because he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly. "Tonight? And all those men sitting in there staring at you on my lap, my mouth against your neck? You go back to your little world?

Her belly twisted in a spasm of horror. "You r***d me," she breathed. Her eyes blazed with burning, unshed tears. "You-

The car swerved hard to the right before she could even try to get the words past her lips. The tires screeched down the road as Damien braked hard in front of his apartment complex. The tower loomed above her, glass and steel shining like a citadel at dusk.

Elena dangled there suspended in mid-air, gasping for breath. Her hands were curled into fists around the leather seat as the car stopped.

Damien was out of the car in a flash. She turned to look, and the next thing she saw, he was standing beside her open door. It opened, and his hand curled around her wrist before she could step back.

"Out."

His voice did not tolerate argument.

She stumbled as he yanked her from the car, heels ringing against the marble driveway. His grip kept her moving, dragging her toward the side door. She strained to keep up with his strides, gasping in short terror-filled breaths.

"Walk," he snarled, not looking at her.

Her legs obeyed even as her mind rebelled. The extravagance that burst in around her-the gleaming marble floors, the gold molding, the doorman who waited silently, inclining his head to one side as if taught not to look-had the smell of the decoration on a gold cage.

They came to the private elevator, and the doors opened silently with a chime. Damien preceded her into it, into the elevator. The doors closed, surrounding them together.

The air clung.

"Damien-please," Elena panted, desperation cutting at her throat. She strained back against the mirror wall, struggling space between them. "I just want to go home."

He was in the room in the space of a blink. His hand slapped against the wall next to her, pinning her in place. She drew in a sharp breath, her heart thudding up into her throat.

"You are home," he said, low and unarguable. A verdict.

Her breasts rose and fell in shock at his words. The mirror showed her own wide, frightened eyes, her trembling lips-and Damien standing behind her, his eyes burning into hers like fires.

The elevator had flattened on the penthouse floor. The doors opened into his penthouse, opulent and expansive. Floor-to-ceiling windows blazed out at the sparkle of city towers. Black marble floors appeared to go on forever, cold and unyielding. Steel and glass echoed the muted light, slick and pitiless-him alone.

Damien didn't break. He lifted her once more, carrying her as if she were nothing. Elena's frozen scream was the final thing she managed to get out in the room as he swept through it.

"Let go!" she screamed, trying weakly to struggle against him.

He said nothing. His expression didn't change, his arms never relaxed. He carried her into the bedroom, where soft silk sheets glowed golden under soft light.

He set her down on the bed, but his body was still above hers, keeping her pinned down from escaping.

"You don't see," Elena gasped, the words shattering with almost-a-cry in her voice. "I cannot live so. I do not belong here."

Damien cradled her chin in the bend of his fingers, tilting her face so she could not help but look at him. His hold wasn't cruel, but it was hard and commanding.

"No, Elena," he answered, his voice low, unrelenting. "You don't comprehend."

His eyes locked on hers, dark and intense. "Every man in this city now knows you're mine. They saw it. They'll never forget it. Which means you're safe... only in my chains."

The word chains sent a shiver through her.

Her lips parted, but no words came. Her body trembled beneath his shadow.

He bent close, lips to her mouth. "Hate me if you must. Fear me. But don't even think about leaving me. Tonight, at least."

And then his lips were on hers.

The kiss was savage, punishing, full of possession. Elena fought to protest, her hands attempting weakly to push him back, but his lips softened suddenly, becoming soft and alluring. The type of his kiss changed, silk to steel, and her heart thudded for a very different reason.

Her body betrayed her.

She hated the melting, her mouth opening to his, responding. She hated the fire that coursed through her blood, the flames that twisted in her belly.

His hands shifted, his palms tracing over her arms, her spine, bringing her to him. Every touch devoured her. Every touch spoke to her something she did not want to hear.

"Mine," he growled against her neck. His lips left fire on her skin, every kiss branding.

Tears pricked her eyes. She wanted to scream, to push him away, to run. But her body arched toward him instead, craving the very man she feared.

His breath ghosted across her ear, his voice a whisper of smoke and danger. "You're not leaving me, Elena. Not tonight. Not ever."

Her heart hammered against her chest. The silk sheets she lay on were silky smooth and cold, a pitiful contrast to the heat of his body over hers.

And even as all of her protested to sit up and shift away, another truth dug deep within her chest:

The chains did not encircle solely around her body and wrists.

They'd already handcuffed her heart.