Bad Medicine (Underworld Kings) Read online

  She does as she’s told, knowing now that this is her only option.

  “Bend over as you do it.”

  Adjusting herself, she puts her body into the position I crave to see her in. The curve of her spine is erotic. I imagine it arching like this when my cock steals her pleasure.

  Coming to stand behind her, I use my foot to spread her legs farther apart by nudging her ankle. “Beautiful. Truly fucking beautiful.”

  “Flawed,” she whispers back, pain emanating from her sweet lips. It’s a lie she tells when she says those words.

  “You are not fucking flawed, Arabella. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman. Do you want me to show you?” Gripping her hips when she doesn't say no, I thrust my hard cock against her ass, and she lets out a moan.

  “Looks like you aren't as afraid of your captor as you let on.”

  “I'm terrified of you.” She peers back at me over her shoulder, her eyes glistening in arousal.

  “Really?” I lift a brow.

  She keeps her eyes on me and awaits my next move. Taking my pointer finger to the top of her thong, I slide it between the fabric and her skin, gliding it down all the way to her center. Instantly, wet heat soaks my finger. Her pussy is smooth, and I swear I almost come, unashamed that she is that fucking tempting.

  “Wet and aroused. Who's really afraid here, Arabella? Because you hold all the control. Say the words, and I will relieve that ache between these beautiful lips.” I slide the side of my long finger barely along her sex. That’s when her engorged clit hits my fingertip, and I’m the one who lets out a moan this time.

  “Fuck,” we say in unison.

  “I know I’ll regret this tomorrow, but it’s been so long since I’ve been touched this way. Please,” she begs, but that first part makes me hesitate.

  “I won’t be a regret. You don’t get my touch until it’s the only thing you want. And trust me, you’ve never been touched the way I plan to.” With that, I drop my hand, removing myself from her with all the strength I have in me.

  She whimpers, and God how I want to too, but I won’t be someone she regrets. Ever.

  Stepping into my closet, I pull out a shirt and bring it back into the room. Now, she’s standing there with her dress to her chest, her cheeks red and flushed, rejection emanating from her face.

  “Get dressed and in bed. I’ll be back. And don’t you dare think of fucking trying to escape, Arabella. You will see a monster you’ve never encountered in your lifetime.”

  I leave then, locking the door from the outside and getting some much-needed space. I need a drink and a goddamn shrink.

  7

  Arabella

  “Sweet Arabella. No one is going to save you, and if they try to take you from me, I will do to them what I was supposed to do to you.”

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? What was he supposed to do to me? Could it be that he didn’t randomly spot me on the street and decide then to kidnap me?

  So many questions fill my mind as I grab his black hoodie once more and pull it over my nakedness. I don’t have long to think about any of it though before DeLuca returns not long after leaving me alone in the room, and what I see in his hand makes the blood drain from my head, making me dizzy.

  “You… you don’t need those. I promise I won’t try to run. Where would I go? We’re out in the middle of nowhere, if the drive and the trees I saw surrounding us out front are anything to go by,” I ramble, taking steps back as he stalks toward me. But my retreat is foiled when my ass hits the wooden nightstand next to the giant four-poster bed that reminds me even more of something that would be inside a castle.

  My small hand comes up as if to stop him, my palm pressing to the center of his wide chest, and it’s there I feel his heart beating, slow but hard. The tempo of mine seems to double as he looks down at where I touch him, his eyes then lifting to meet mine, his eyebrow rising in challenge. But I don’t move. Not because I’m holding my ground, but because I’m frozen in fear of what he might do next. After all, I just begged him to get me off, and he returned with a pair of fucking handcuffs.

  What I failed to realize until this moment is the easy access I just gave him to my arm, not until I feel the cold metal wrap around my thin wrist, nothing but flesh and bone, and hear the startling number of clicks it takes for the cuff to become tight around me. He seems to notice too, and his eyes flash with something—not quite anger, not quite protectiveness. Something in between.

  “Trust has to be earned, not freely given,” he tells me in his low, gravelly tone that sends a shiver up my spine.

  I swallow. “Yet you want me to trust you, no questions asked.” The words come out of my mouth without permission, just like they did every time I spoke to him between the kitchen and where we stand now. Is it my fear making my brain-to-mouth filter malfunction, or is there something about this man that makes me want to speak exactly what’s on my mind, subconsciously knowing I’m safe to talk freely without worry of some kind of punishment?

  “I’ve done all I can so far to earn your trust, Arabella. I’ve been nothing but gentle with you. I’ve fed you. I haven’t hurt you in any way. That’s how I earn people’s trust, with actions, not words,” he explains, and I can’t even argue, because what he said is true. He hasn’t done anything to me that would warrant mistrust—well, aside from kidnapping me.

  Except for the fact that he’s now tugging my arm attached to the handcuffs, using his other arm to lift me on top of the huge bed, where he snaps the other cuff around one of the wooden rungs of the headboard. He yanks on the bedspread until he pulls it out from under me, then lays it across my lower half. I would complain, but it’s like I’ve been tucked into a cloud, and the handcuffs aren’t all that uncomfortable.

  My body sinks into the mattress and pillows, an overwhelming sense of fatigue washing over me so briskly I wonder if he drugged me, put something in my food. But as if he can read my mind, he says, “Your adrenaline has worn off, and if what I assume is true, you haven’t been so well-fed in quite some time, so the combination of your body coming down along with your full belly will make for good, deep sleep.”

  He tells me this with a look of caring in his eyes I’ve never seen from anyone before, not my husband, and not even my own father. It loosens something inside my chest I didn’t know was strung tight, and it makes me relax even further into the comfort of the big bed. He lifts his hand to my face, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, then tracing the line of my jaw before he stands up straight again.

  “Get some sleep, piccolina. I have something I need to take care of tonight before I can join you,” he murmurs, the soft look in his eyes still there as he steps back from the bed, then turns and walks out the door.

  Try as I might though, I don’t immediately fall asleep, even though my body tries to drag me under. My mind won’t just shut off. What in the hell just happened in the last two hours? Wasn’t it just a few days ago that I was daydreaming about someone coming to steal me away from my cloistered life? Did I manifest this? And as scared as I am of this situation in reality, the emotional lines are blurred because I had been fantasizing about this happening. Over and over again, I brought myself to orgasm with this exact image in mind—the handsome “bad guy” taking me from my ivory tower and whisking me away to his castle.

  How did my fantasy come true so accurately?

  If I had written it down in a diary somewhere, I would believe someone got ahold of it and was paying this man to role play and act out this dream of mine. But I never had. God only knows what Ferro would’ve done if he’d found it.

  Ferro—what will he do when he discovers I’m missing? I would be worried it’d take him forever to figure out I’m gone since he only visits me once a month, but that’s not the case, because certainly my security team realized I wasn’t home almost immediately. They would’ve informed him within minutes of me not making it up to my apartment after my driver dropped me off.

  Could they
be tracking me right now, as I lay comfortable and not in a panic in another man’s bed? No. I have nothing on me that could be tracked. Everything I had with me when DeLuca took me from that alley was new. A bag of books, my purse I’d just purchased the day before that only had my credit card, ID, and lipstick. I’d purposely left my phone at home to not be disturbed at my happy place—the bookstore. Anything I needed otherwise, I could simply ask my driver for.

  Something niggles in the back of my mind, something my captor said. What was he supposed to do to me?

  But just as I try to process what that could mean, my mind finally gives up along with my body, and I fall into a deep sleep, dreaming what I always do—about being stolen away in the dead of night, but instead of my keeper being a faceless entity, DeLuca’s dangerously handsome image replaces the void.

  8

  DeLuca

  I reach my office just as my phone rings, and lo and behold, it’s exactly who I was about to call.

  “DeLuca,” Ferro barks, making my nostrils flare. “Where the fuck is my wife?”

  My hackles rise at the piece of shit laying any kind of claim on my woman. I lower myself into my leather seat behind my big mahogany desk, reminding myself to keep my voice calm when really I want to rage at the motherfucker for trying to murder Arabella.

  “I took care of it. There was a struggle, so it wouldn’t have looked like the suicide you wanted to portray. I got rid of the body. You’re welcome,” I tell him, which is technically the truth, although I’d have no problem lying to him.

  There’s a pause, and I hear him mumbling, “Okay, okay, that’s good. She’s gone, so now I can be with…. Wait.” He curses, his voice rising. “Got rid of the body. Got rid of the body? What the fuck? Now she’s going to be a missing person, you idiot. You were supposed to kill her and leave her to be found so I could be done with her!” he yells into the phone, and I have to take deep breaths to calm myself enough not to crush my cell in my hand.

  “It’s Desolation, Ferro. Who the hell is going to care about one missing woman who has no friends and stays holed up in her apartment ninety-nine percent of the time?” I growl, gripping the arm of my chair with my other hand.

  He lets out a frustrated rumble before telling me between clenched teeth, “Her fucking dad, asshole. Our marriage was to bring our two families together, a business transaction. If she turns up missing and not discovered having committed suicide, he won’t stop until he finds her or what really happened to her.”

  I put half-assed effort into placating him. “If he finds her body, then it will just look like any old murder in your wretched little city. Either way, you got what you wanted. She’s gone, and you’re free to do… whatever it is you truly wanted her dead for.”

  I stop myself abruptly, not wanting to say exactly what’s on my mind. I have a feeling, deep in my soul, that Arabella had no information that would wreck The Ruin. There’s a different reason Ferro wanted her dead, and he knew I wouldn’t have taken the job if I knew the truth. So I have no qualms lying to the motherfucker. I didn’t miss his murmurings to himself. I caught what he said about “now he gets to be with…” even though he didn’t finish the sentence. And that tells me my gut feeling about her not wanting to destroy The Ruin is the truth.

  “You better fucking hope he finds the body and finds it fast so we can put this all behind us. In fact, just tell me where it is so I can find some way to lead them to her,” he orders, and my eyes narrow on nothing, just seeing the wiry fucker in my mind, thinking he can make demands of me.

  “Not my problem. I did what you paid me to do, and now our transaction is complete. Do not contact me again.” And with that, I end our connection, my mind returning to the little one upstairs in my bed.

  By the time I return to the bedroom, the beautiful creature taking up such a small part of my huge, encompassing bed has fallen asleep. Arabella looks stunning, even in her slumber. I can tell the events of the long night are haunting her dreams in her soft features. She’s scared, yes, but I can tell she’s wrestling with the feelings that draw us to one another.

  We shouldn’t be this way, the feelings—those shouldn’t be transpiring. But I know now just how evil the man she’s married to and planned her death when her back was turned is. I vow to protect her from him, even if that means danger to me. If I must run for the hills with her chained to me, I will. No one will ever get to her again.

  I watch her a minute longer before heading for the shower. Turning on the water, I let it steam up the bathroom, the hot water nearly being felt before I even step in. Once inside, I let the scalding water cascade around my bunched muscles. They haven’t relaxed since the moment I saw her, and each passing moment in her presence has only wound me tighter, to the point that I will combust if I don’t soon make her mine completely.

  I think about how the fuck I will go about keeping her, because she is dead to her old life, while maintaining her safety and making her desperate with need for me. I’ll be a busy man with this wild principessa on my hands. The water begins to grow cold, and I decide to give in to the exhaustion consuming me. Toweling off first, I step into the bedroom naked, moving toward my closet, when I hear a shocked gasp.

  “Oh, um. Sorry.”

  Looking toward the bed, I turn to see Arabella hiding her face in the side of her bicep.

  Smiling smugly, I respond, “No need to look away, piccolina. Might as well get used to my nakedness, and yours, because soon enough we will be tangled in nothing but our flesh when I ravish you the way I fucking intend to.”

  She peers up through her lashes, unable to hide the blush on her cheeks and the tightening of her legs under the black silk sheet.

  “Yeah, that ache will be fun to relieve,” I growl, gripping my now-hard cock in my fist. I imagine her cunt is much tighter and warm and will keep me in a haze between those sweet thighs.

  Her eyes never leave my moving hand, and watching her watch me jerk my cock as if I’m fucking her gets me so damn close.

  She wants it. Sure, sexually, she can’t deny what I do to her and what I could do with a touch, but I need her to want all of me. Every bit of lust, craziness, and obsession. Until then, I will make her starve for my touch. For my fuck. For my pleasure.

  “Fuck, I want you. Tell me you like what you see.” I pick up the pace, so close to coming. I swear I can feel her arousal all around me. Every inch of me invading her, claiming her, taking her, owning her, and seeing her like this, I know she will want that, every part of it.

  “I do. You make me want things I shouldn’t. You’re a monster, but I like it,” she whispers, rubbing her thighs together.

  “That’s right. I am a monster, but I will not be one to you. Ever. In time, baby, in time. Fuck.” With that, I explode, coming without breaking eye contact with her. Both of us breathe deeply, the sound echoing in the still room. My lip curls into a snarl, my lust turning into raging anger, because this woman has been in my life less than a day, and she’s already driven me mad.

  I don’t care what this means for me and The Ruin, or what havoc Ferro is going to rain down on me. I don’t care that this woman is a temptress who has made me want something I never sought out or desired before. But I hate that Arabella is under my fucking skin. I have to focus, be more aware of what exactly is happening around this bubble of lust and desire and pure fucking insanity.

  If I let my guard down, it will be deadly for the both of us. She senses my anger and cowers and curls into herself, the lust being overruled by fear. Turning, I slam my fist into the wall, the smooth surface cracking under my strength, and then I disappear into the closet, ready for the wars I’m about to fight.

  For her and with her.

  9

  Arabella

  What was that? What is this? What the hell is happening? It’s been less than a day. I’ve been kidnapped, being held captive. Yet, I’m mad with lust and desire. I’m suffering from my own self-induced whiplash. Seriously. This man is a monster, bu
t there is something in me—and I mean deep, deep in me—that feels… saved, protected. Who else would feel this way under these circumstances? Well, that’s easy—any woman inside The Ruin.

  I’ve been captive since the day I was betrothed to Ferro, but I never teetered on this line of both want and hate. I hate that another man has claimed me as some sort of property, when all I ever wanted was freedom—but… the man claiming me is one I don’t want to hate. For once, I feel like I can breathe, escape from the world like I fantasized about for years. Sure, I envisioned it, but who knew I’d actually be kidnapped by an insanely sexy megalomaniac?

  I’m in the most dangerous situation of my life, yet I’m not completely afraid of it in the way I should be.

  Mad. I’ve gone mad. This will all end, and it needs to. I can’t bring myself to truly believe the same man who took me like a thief in the night will be my knight in shining armor. He is a monster, and I need to find a way to get out of here. I’ve already gone so far as to ask him to make me come, and when he pulled away, that should’ve been the wakeup call I needed in order to snap out of this insanity. I have to find a way to call my father or Ferro and get the hell away from this man before he digs his claws in too deep and I end up with some twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome.

  I turn the best way I can with my hand in the cuffs, but it’s limited, and I’m uncomfortable. My arm has begun to ache. He enters the room, and I stiffen. Seeing as he just got off while watching me watch him before he cracked the wall of his room, I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself.

  “I will help you get comfortable,” he says, moving to my side of the bed. He’s dressed in black silky pajama pants, the fabric showing off the defined muscles of his thighs and impressive cock. Even when he’s not hard, he’s huge. It’s almost intimidating. Grabbing some pillows, he slides them under my ribcage, the plushness helping me a bit, but that doesn’t stop the ache in my arm.