Page 13 of Forbidden Empire (Sinful Gods #1)

Five

E SME

Three hours and twenty-seven minutes. I counted every damn second on that Rolex clock Aidon had mounted on his wall, like he won it at a bloodsport.

My nails pressed half-moons in my palms.

I kept digging in, not sure if I was trying to keep myself anchored or just hoping I'd bleed.

I kicked off my heels. One of them hit the dresser, the expensive, shiny mahogany one, and made a crack that was a little satisfying.

He dragged me through that door, his hand tight on my arm. Hard enough to bruise, because, of course, that was his style.

Then he locked me in here, like some princess in a fairy tale, except the dragon was the goon outside the door. I paced the length of the room, back and forth, burning figure eights into the carpet.

Counting steps. Doors. Anything that looked like a weakness.

It figured. The bastard kept a penthouse in my brother’s casino. Zeno and Aidon, circling each other, both waiting for the other to make a move. Two scorpions trapped in a glass. The idea of them sitting together, drinking, and talking, while I sat here, made my jaw ache.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my hair wild. I slammed my fist into the wall again. The pain felt like something piercing, bright, and real.

“Fuck.”

I pressed my forehead to the window, chilled glass against my skin, sixty stories above the Strip. Vegas glittered underneath.

And then my body betrayed me.

Ridiculous, but true. I remembered his hands, his mouth, the way he held me down. My thighs squeezed together. Instinct, or muscle memory, or just more proof I was the weak one.

I could see him in my mind, pinning me to the wall, breathing hot and rough against my neck. Just the thought sent a bolt of electricity straight through me. I hated him. I hated myself more.

What kind of woman gets wet for the man who locks her up?

The kind who’d spent years lying awake, imagining all the ways she’d hurt him.

Never like this. Not boredom. Not this soft, slow torture.

I thought I’d be ready for death. Or violence. But not for this. Not for him leaving me here, alone with these filthy thoughts, and the ghost of his hand on my throat, pressing just hard enough to make my pulse roar.

My skin still burned where he'd gripped me.

I paced the room, my thighs clenching with each step.

Not once had I thought Aidon would leave me alone.

My mind was spinning. I needed to escape. Aidon was dangerous. By now, he most likely considered me his enemy, despite our shared past, and hated me just as much as I loathed him, despite the sexual tension that pulsed between us like it had a life of its own.

But if we hated each other, why did I still feel my pussy quiver every single time I was near the man?

Maybe it wouldn’t be so confusing, so complicated, if I’d never felt the firm caress of his touch, or the delicious slide of his cock entering me so smoothly.

Maybe if I’d never seen the look in his eyes while he exploded the searing heat of his desire deep inside my pussy…

This could have been much easier.

Maybe then, I’d have been long gone by now and had the strength to move on, not plagued with thoughts of Aidon that kept me lingering in places I should have left long ago.

Three a.m. hotel rooms, sheets ripped off the bed, my back nearly snapping in two, his name torn from my throat as I dug blood-red half-moons into his shoulders. That memory flashed behind my eyelids and made my thighs press together, my body clenching down on nothing.

I never believed Aidon would leave me alone.

My pulse pounded so loud I could barely think. Sweat prickled at my hairline, even with the AC blasting.

I kept circling my cage, brushing my fingertips over the cold wall, pretending it was the ice cube he once dragged down my spine.

He’d chased it with his tongue, slow, deliberate. I hated him. I hated how my body still reacted to the idea of him: nipples tightening, heart racing, that familiar heat rolling low in my belly.

I hated the way his eyes looked when he shoved me into this room. So dark they were almost black, pupils huge, wild with anger and something else I refused to name.

I slapped my palm against the wall. It stung, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache pulsing deep inside me.

I clenched my jaw so tight, I half expected to chip a molar.

Those dangerous little daydreams?

I forced them down, way down, into the coldest, deepest corner of my mind and slammed the steel vault shut.

There’d be time to indulge them later, when I wasn’t worrying about Aidon sniffing around in my head, piecing it all together from a stray glance or a slip of focus.

Survival. That was it. Escape, or nothing.

Fuck Aidon. Fuck his predatory, hypnotic stare.

That animalistic growl should have terrified me, but instead sent a shiver straight through my bones.

Fuck his need to own me, to bend me to his will. Fuck the way my body remembered the heat of his hands, his mouth, every reckless, addictive second.

I almost started cursing myself aloud for letting him get to me, for hanging around long enough for all this to happen.

I’d seen the warning signs. I wasn’t new at this.

But maybe there was something in me that craved the risk, that got off on seeing how close I could get to the fire before it burned me to ash.

Well, the flames had reached me now. Searing. Unforgiving.

Time to find my way to ice.

I stopped in front of the door, hand clamped around the knob, my whole body wound so tight I might snap. The plan was coming together, bit by bit, even though images of Aidon’s body pinning me down kept slamming into my thoughts, refusing to be ignored.

Before he’d shoved me in here, he’d ripped my purse away. No phone. No weapons. Not even a nail file. Clean sweep.

But they’d missed the USB port stashed in my stiletto heel. My tiny beacon of hope. Somehow, Aidon and his goons hadn’t found it.

So all I had?

My brain, my body, and combat training. Not comforting, considering the size of the guys I’d pissed off.

Ares had glared daggers at me when he’d limped down the hall earlier, promising payback.

I took one deep slow breath. Turned the knob. Threw the door open. The jolt of relief was so sharp, I almost laughed out loud.

No Aidon. No Ares. The coast was clear for now.

Instead, someone else was waiting.

A different guard hunched over his phone until he noticed me. His head snapped up. Surprise flickered in his eyes as I stepped forward, my “don’t mess with me” face on full display.

Holy hell.

The guy was enormous. His biceps strained against his uniform sleeves, like they’d split the fabric if he so much as flexed.

When he stood, the chair beneath him groaned, as if grateful to be free. I swallowed because he started coming my way, and each of his thighs looked about the size of my entire torso.

His hands? They were big enough to snap my neck in two seconds flat.

I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. He was looking down at me, like a bouncer sizing up someone who didn’t belong.

I might be trained, but up against this guy, I’d be a hummingbird pecking at a grizzly bear.

My pulse spiked. A different tactic was in order.

So I relaxed my shoulders, softened up, and tilted my head just a little, the exact way I’d practiced in a hundred hotel-bar mirrors, watching men’s eyes go wide every time.

“Hey,” I said, mouth curving into a smile.

He blinked. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ma’am,” he managed.

“What’s your name?” I took a step closer. Close enough to catch a whiff of his cologne.

“Seth,” he said, staring at my neckline.

“Hey, Seth. I’m Esme.”

“I know who you are, ma’am.” His jaw flexed, arms bulging beneath the suit jacket like he was prepping for a bodybuilding contest.

Fabric straining, shoulders squared, posture so tense it bordered on cartoonish. If he was aiming for intimidation, it wasn’t landing.

Not in this gilded, over-the-top hallway, all mirrors and candlesticks and money dripping off the walls.

But that little flick of his eyes, from my face to the door behind me and right back again, said he’d been warned. Probably more than once.

The whole thing amused me.

I didn’t bother hiding it.

Instead, I stepped up so close I could feel the heat coming off him. Ran my fingers down his forearm, tracing up to his bicep. His muscle jerked under my touch, like he’d been shocked.

“Seth,” I murmured in a low whisper. He had to lean in to hear me. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Classic. His Adam’s apple did a full bob, sweat popping up at his temple.

“I—” he tried, but the word fell apart when I circled his arm with fingers that were, yes, freezing.

“Sorry,” I said, gliding my hand along the ridge of his forearm, right over a twitching vein. “Cold hands.”

I added a shiver, making sure my nipples pressed against my blouse just so. His pupils dilated. The Adam’s apple bobbed again, a real performance.

I leaned close, breath warming his ear. “I’d be so grateful.”

He clenched his jaw, sweat beading at the edge of his hair.

“Can’t,” he managed.

The word fractured, then fell out in two rough syllables. His gaze darted to my chest, lingered for a split second, then snapped up to my face like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Can’t let you leave, ma’am.”

I pressed against him until our bodies aligned like puzzle pieces, my hip bone sliding against his inner thigh. His skin burned through the fabric between us.

"Seth," I whispered, my lips so close to his ear my breath made him shiver.

His pupils swallowed his irises as I watched something crack behind them.

"Please? Just the bathroom. Five minutes."

He retreated half a step, but his body surged toward mine like a compass finding north. His gaze dropped to where my chest rose and fell, his fingers curling into fists then splaying wide, over and over.