Page 55 of Fractured Devotion (Tainted Souls #1)

His breath catches, his body tensing beneath me. “No,” he says, his voice low. “That was me. All me.”

The honesty in those words cuts deeper than I expect.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

Then I shift again, pulling a hiss from him.

“And now?” I murmur, my voice softer, like smoke seeping through a crack.

“Now I’m already lost,” he admits, his voice breaking.

I lean down again, pressing my mouth to his, slow and claiming, tasting the confession on his lips.

He kisses me back like a man drowning.

When I pull back, I look into his eyes and speak with certainty. “You’re going to give me every name, every file, and everything you’ve ever buried.”

He nods, barely.

“And you’re going to do it willingly.”

He gives another nod, his breath shaking.

“Because if you don’t,” I say, my voice sinking to a dangerous whisper, “I will end you in ways even you can’t imagine.”

His eyes darken, not with fear. But with surrender.

“Yes, Celeste,” he says.

And this time, I know he means it.

Because I have him exactly where I want him.

The chains may hold his body.

But now, I hold everything else.

His secrets.

His loyalty.

His heart.

And I intend to use every part of it.

I don’t release him. Not yet.

Instead, I lift myself off him, dragging out every inch with deliberate cruelty. He groans at the loss, his body twitching in overstimulated shock.

I watch him carefully, admiring the way he looks beneath me—sweat-soaked, spent, utterly wrecked, and still bound.

I slide off the bed, moving with languid precision, unhurried as I step away to retrieve a knife from the nearby table. The room still smells of sex and sweat, thick with the evidence of what we just did.

His eyes widen when he sees the glint of the blade.

“Celeste,” he rasps, his voice hoarse.

“Relax,” I murmur, approaching slowly, the knife held loosely in my fingers.

I climb back onto the bed, straddling him again, the bare skin of my thigh rubbing against his trembling body. His cock is still sensitive, twitching with every subtle brush of my body.

I press the cool blade to his collarbone, dragging it down his chest and tracing over the lines I marked with my nails earlier.

He shudders violently but doesn’t flinch away, watching me with dark, blown pupils, his breathing ragged.

“You’re going to remember exactly how it felt to lose every shred of power you thought you had.”

I lean down, pressing a kiss just beside the trail I carved with the knife.

Then another.

My lips leave a wet path down his chest, kissing along the marks and softening the bite of the blade with warmth.

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me everything I need to know,” I murmur against his skin.

He groans, his hips bucking slightly despite himself, the tension between pain and pleasure clouding every line.

I remove the knife, setting it aside, then lean back to study him.

Helpless.

Open.

Mine.

I don’t give him time to regroup.

I trail my fingertips along his thighs, just the barest touch, watching him twitch beneath me. He’s spent and breathless, yet I know his body well enough by now to see the flicker of need still sparking under his skin.

I circle his nipple again with my fingertip, slow and lazy.

“Talk,” I murmur.

He swallows hard, his voice wrecked but obedient.

“Nobody knows I know this,” he rasps, his voice thick with the weight of the confession.

His chest heaves under my fingertips as he shudders.

“I used Rourke’s access… pulled some things for myself.

As insurance. Just in case everything went to hell.

” He pauses, his eyes locking with mine, dark and unreadable, holding something that twists between defiance and reluctant vulnerability.

His breath catches, then he speaks again, the words dragged out like a wound being opened fresh.

“There’s an offshore server, hidden under Meridian’s shell firms. That’s where the original Echo protocols are stored,” he rasps, his words slipping out between shudders.

I hum softly, dragging my fingernails down his chest.

“Where?”

“Coordinates… encrypted in the old archive wing. Sublevel two. The key is inside my personal drive.”

I smirk. “Of course it is.”

He shudders again, his hips twitching involuntarily as I trail lower, ghosting my touch along his sensitive cock.

His body strains, every nerve alight.

“And who else knows?” I press.

His breath stutters. “Rourke. A few board members. They kept it compartmentalized, but they all want it. They think they can restart everything if the clinic falls.”

I tilt my head, my voice smooth when I say, “But not if I erase it first.”

He groans, helpless beneath me, every confession dragging him deeper under. “No. If you take it, they lose everything.”

I lean down, my lips grazing his throat. “And you just handed it to me,” I murmur.

His voice is hoarse, but there’s something raw beneath it. “I was yours the moment you bound me,” he breathes.

I bite down lightly, enough to make him flinch, enough to remind him that I’m not finished. “Not yet,” I whisper, pressing another kiss to the mark.

I want him wrecked. I want him emptied.

And I’m not stopping until I’ve taken everything.

“More,” I order softly.

His body trembles under mine. “There’s… there’s a contingency plan,” he admits, his voice barely a breath. “If the main archive is wiped, they have backups scattered across private networks.”

I narrow my eyes. “Names.”

“Rourke. Dunlay. Vescari.”

I repeat the names, burning them into memory.

Then I reward him with a slow, torturous stroke, making him writhe.

He gasps, helpless.

“Good boy,” I whisper, savoring his surrender.

I don’t let him drift away into the haze of exhaustion.

Instead, I lean down, my lips brushing over the sharp shell of his ear, soft as cotton but sharp enough to cut. “You’re going to take me there,” I whisper, my words sinking into him like a command laced with something darker.

He groans, the sound rumbling up from his chest, raw and unrestrained, his body arching involuntarily against the bonds.

“You’re going to unlock every door and hand me every key. Then you’ll watch me burn their empire to the ground.”

His breath stutters, the weight of surrender already pressing down.

“Yes, Celeste,” he murmurs, his voice hollow and stripped bare.

I drag my fingers down his chest, tracing the lines of muscle slick with sweat and watching the way he shivers under my touch.

“And after it’s done,” I continue, my voice dipping lower, “I’ll decide whether you’ve earned your freedom.”

He doesn’t fight it.

He’s past that now.

His voice breaks on the words. “Anything you want, Celeste. God knows I will do anything for you.”

I kiss him then—hard, deep, and claiming.

A kiss that tastes like ash and absolution.

When I pull back, his eyes are glazed, his body limp beneath mine.

I finally reach up and undo the cuffs, releasing him from his binds, though we both know he’s still mine in every way that matters.

He drags his arms to himself, sinking back against the sheets, utterly spent, his chest heaving.

I rise from the bed, smoothing down the hem of my dress and adjusting the sleeves with intent precision. I was never fully undressed, but now I straighten the fabric, restoring every button and seam to its rightful place as I watch him from the corner of my eye.

“I’ll come for you when I’m ready,” I tell him, my voice like a promise and a warning.

He watches me through half-lidded eyes, unable to summon words.

As I move toward the door, I glance back once. “You won’t see me coming,” I murmur.

Then I slip out into the night, leaving him wrecked and marked, knowing the war isn’t over yet.

It’s only just begun.