Page 10 of Beautiful Torment (Empire of Kings #1)

ABELLA

T hunder rattles the windows, and lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating the figure towering over my bed.

Tall, broad shoulders, big hands cloaked in black gloves, and dark, mysterious eyes—the only discernable feature behind the skull mask.

They’re the hallmarks of the man who resurrects himself in my thoughts, even from behind a prison wall.

Whether it’s my imagination running wild or the familiarity I can no longer deny, my brain has made this association that can’t be severed.

In my mind, he can only be Angelo Vitale.

When I’m asleep, he haunts my dreams, but tonight, his silhouette is so sharp beneath the moonlight, it steals my breath. Is he the ghost of the life I almost had, or is he the devil who stalks me in the darkness?

A charged silence crackles between us as he studies me the way a wolf sizes up its prey. Beneath that mask is something raw and primal. A man who moves like a predator, with a hunger so consuming he’ll hunt me to the ends of this earth.

Sometimes, I think I’m losing my mind. Maybe this is the punishment I deserve. A purgatory between the past and present, never quite certain what’s real and what are just broken fragments of memories.

It isn’t a stretch of the imagination to think I could have conjured him up in a lucid dream. Masochism is my favorite sport. Except, the evidence he leaves behind is too tangible to ignore.

The roses.

The texts.

The gifts.

The small scrape from his blade against my chest.

Heat licks along my flesh as the memory plays through my mind.

Hunted. Captured. Claimed.

My heartbeat thrashes in my ears as I recall the undiluted fear I felt as I dangled over the rooftop—one slip of his grip away from death.

It was terrifying. And yet, when I surrendered to the moment, it was a high unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

Now, as those dark eyes burn a path down my throat, pausing to linger on my rapid pulse, I can’t help but wonder what he’ll do next.

What psychological mindfuck does he have planned for me tonight?

He tilts his head to the side and cracks his neck, releasing a fraction of the tension from his rigid body. It isn’t enough. Truthfully, I think he could hate fuck me until the end of time, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Something feral lives inside him. It’s more than obsession. It feels like starvation laced with fury.

I close my eyes on a shuddering exhalation, and the bed dips as he sits beside me, his fingers trailing the length of my jaw.

“No running this time, bella ?” His thumb grazes my lower lip. “That’s a shame. I was looking forward to the chase.”

I shiver beneath his touch, nipples tightening under the thin fabric of my tank top. He leans closer, his heated words brushing against my ear.

“If you only knew all the ways I’ve imagined fucking you, you would run.”

My brain fails to verbalize a response because he’s right. I should run. But instead, I’m hanging on his every word, anxious to see what he might do.

It feels like a rebellion. Against my father.

Matteo. All the rules that have been set for me.

I have no control over my future, but in this moment, I have a choice.

I could call for the guards. I could scream, and they would come to my rescue.

Or I could run toward the fire and let the devil himself pull me down to hell.

“You know you have a debt to pay,” he tells me, the words dripping over me like honey.

My legs squeeze together, and his fingers tighten reflexively around my face.

The scent of citrus, cloves, and leather stirs a distant memory, shadowed by a thousand others.

They crash around my brain, colliding with each other until my heart cracks open.

In a desperate bid for self-preservation, I close my eyes and take shelter from the pain.

His gloved hand slides down the column of my neck, caressing me there as he commands my attention.

“What should I collect as payment?”

My eyes snap open, and time suspends itself as he studies the chaotic rhythm of my pulse, weighing his options. Does he want to extinguish the light in me forever or satisfy his revenge in the most primitive way?

I’d choose the latter.

His gaze drops, tracing the curves of my breasts. When his thumb scrapes over the pointed fabric, it sends a shockwave through my entire body. He stares at the expanse of cotton separating him from my naked flesh, the silence stretching with tension. He doesn’t want to want me.

I realize it when a low, frustrated growl escapes him.

For a moment, I’m not sure which side of him will win.

But he slips his gloved fingers beneath the material, groping me with a roughness that betrays his low-simmering anger.

I sense that it’s a step too far for him in his mental tug of war, but even that’s not enough.

He draws the fabric all the way up, exposing my breasts to cool air and the scorching heat of his gaze.

How many times did I think about Angelo doing this when we were together? I wanted him to see every inch of me. I wanted him to ache for me with the same intensity I felt every time I looked at his stupidly beautiful face. He was too much of a gentleman then.

The man who sits beside me now has unshackled all civility and restraint.

Liquid heat soaks into my panties as my imagination runs wild with the thought of him claiming every part of me. His size and strength would probably tear me in half, but there are far worse ways to die.

My legs part, tempting him with a silent invitation.

Seconds tick by, and my heart feels like it’s in my throat as he drags it out.

“Is this what you want, Abella?” He slides his gloved hand down into my panties and strokes me there. “Has your fiancé left you so unsatisfied you have to resort to begging random men?”

“If it gets the job done,” I reply, my voice still hoarse from sleep. “Besides, you went to all the trouble of setting the mood.”

“How many?” Something dangerous edges his voice, and I know I shouldn’t goad him, but I’m feeling a little dangerous too.

“Why? Should I start offering queue tickets?”

His hand stills inside my panties as he wraps the other one around my throat, rigid fingers pressing into the delicate flesh in warning. It’s a punishment and a gift, another item from my bucket list of bad ideas.

I lay there and let him choke me, and he shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re sucking all the fun out of it, cara .”

“That’s too bad,” I wheeze. “I’m having a great time.”

He waits me out, watching me squirm in frustration as his fingers rest where I need them most. Meanwhile, the edges of my vision start to blur, and my heartbeat drums in my ears.

Everything amplifies. The sound of my shallow breaths.

The tingling of my nerve endings. The rush of heat when he finally rewards me with the friction of his fingers.

My entire world narrows to a single focus until the only thing that exists is him. The press of his fingers. The unyielding vice around my throat. The warm brush of his arm across my stomach. The lack of oxygen heightens all my senses, and every stroke feels like a spark.

I’m on a razor’s edge—caught between madness and desire. Every survival instinct in my body is screaming danger, while the darkness whispers for me to surrender.

I’m drunk on his power as I meet his stare, silently imploring him to keep me safe even as he threatens to destroy me. I want to trust him. The thought is so ludicrous, I should slap myself.

He proves it when his fingers bite deeper into my throat, and he watches the light slowly drain from my eyes. Blackness creeps in, and panic whirls through me as I buck against him, reaching for him in the darkness.

“There it is.” Pleasure ripples through his words. “You want to know the worst part?”

The room around me spins as pressure coils deep inside me. The need to breathe. The need to come. Every muscle in my body contracts as I arch off the bed, lungs ready to explode. I claw at him, anchoring myself to his strength as if that will save me somehow.

“The worst part is you’ll crave this for the rest of your life.” His words brush against my hair. “And I’m the only one who can ever give it to you.”

The sound of his fingers sliding through my wet arousal is the last thing I hear before ringing pierces my ears.

As I free-fall into oblivion, he releases his grip on my throat, and air punches its way into my lungs.

My body jerks, electric shocks pulsing all the way down to my toes.

The pleasure crests so violently, it launches me into outer space.

I’m floating on a cloud of euphoria in a galaxy of stars, completely weightless and strung out.

I can’t stop the sounds that spill from my throat as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me. Time stretches on, leaving me suspended in that space until every ounce of bliss has been wrung from my body.

Ragged breaths fall from my lips as my senses return one by one. Warmth spreads through me as I melt into the bed, completely boneless and thoroughly ruined for anyone else. In my gut, I know he’s right about that. Nobody else will ever be able to give me what he just did.

I’m still trembling when I open my eyes to meet his gaze. Hardness has etched itself into his dark eyes as he lazily palms my breast, triggering another flutter in my belly. Beneath his stillness, there’s a storm—full of fury and barely leashed.

For every action, there’s a consequence, and I knew what mine would be when I betrayed him. That wound lingers like a cancer between us, poisoning his thoughts and hemorrhaging the darkness from his mind.