Page 1

Waking up without him on top of me felt strangely wrong. It was a disruption of the twisted routine into which we had fallen. Every morning, without fail, Alexander found his way between my legs, staking his claim before the day even began. The absence of his touch wasn’t exactly a relief.

As I shifted, a dull ache in my lower abdomen pulled me back to reality, and I became acutely aware of the dampness beneath me.

Motherfucker.

No—wait, this was a good thing.

Of all the complications swirling around me, my period arriving wasn’t high on my list of problems, but in a way, it was a small victory. Alexander had made it clear he wanted me only for himself before reducing me to a barefoot, pregnant cliché. Yet, I was dutifully drinking fertility smoothies and swallowing pills every morning to increase my chances of conceiving.

And he was insatiable.

His desire for me was both exhilarating and exhausting, leaving me feeling simultaneously desired and objectified. When he wasn’t hard, he used his hands and mouth to keep my body pliant until he could fuck me again. I knew some of this soreness I was feeling had everything to do with him. The irony of the situation was almost comical, but it also made me want to cry. I carefully sat up, clutching the comforter to my body to hide my nakedness.

The feeling of stickiness beneath me only added to the grossness of the whole situation. My cycles were short and never lasted more than four days, but they always managed to be messy and brutal. Every movement felt like a chore as I slowly swung my legs over the side of the bed. The door suddenly creaked open, and my stomach pooled with a mix of dread and surprise when Alexander stepped into the room. His presence filled every inch of the space, his stature commanding as ever.

The first time I had woken up, the sun had yet to fully rise. Now, he stood before me, dressed in a tailored black suit that hugged his well-defined muscles. A crisp white undershirt peeked out from beneath the jacket, contrasting starkly against the dark hues of his attire. His tie, a deep shade of burgundy, added a touch of color to the otherwise monochromatic outfit.

His dark hair was perfectly styled, adding to his imposing yet undeniably attractive appearance. Even the faint scar on the right side of his face, which I was beginning to see as a symbol of his complex past, added to his charm.

"Good morning, beautiful," he greeted me as he closed the distance between us, his steps slowing as he studied my face. "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone gentle yet probing. I tried to respond, but no words would come out. His unwavering gaze searched for an explanation as I clutched the blanket tighter around me.

"I...um," I stammered, feeling humiliated and vulnerable. It wasn’t just the physical discomfort; it was the emotional exposure. Periods were natural—I knew that—but I’d never openly discussed them with men. I hadn’t done much of anything with men in general before all of this. Now there I was, trying to explain my discomfort to the very man who had brought me to his home without my consent.

He reached out, his fingers grazing my cheek with a possessive touch. "You're menstruating," he stated bluntly, his tone devoid of any emotion.

I flinched, both from the unexpected contact and his unnerving perception. How could he always see right through me?

His lips curved into a slight smile as he noticed my shock, his amusement evident in his eyes. "Despite everything we've been through, you still doubt that I know every detail about you?" There was no sign of mockery, just a simple acknowledgment as if this were a casual conversation between us.

I sighed softly and shook my head. “No, I guess I don’t. Or rather I shouldn’t. Sorry.”

"There's no need to apologize, deliciae . You're still learning what it means to be in a relationship like ours," he reassured me in a soft voice. "Wait there a moment." His command was gentle yet firm.

I watched him disappear into the bathroom, and moments later, the sound of rushing water cascaded into the room. Was it the shower or the bath? Either way, I was grateful for the gesture. The warmth of the water always seemed to ease my cramps. When Alexander re-entered the bedroom, he carried himself with a sense of thoughtfulness that I had yet to fully comprehend.

He approached my side of the bed, and without hesitation, I sat up straighter, keenly aware of my disheveled state. In one graceful movement, he pulled back the comforter and then, with gentle hands, lifted me up and carried me toward the bathroom.

"I-I don't need your help," I objected, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tremors of shame coursing through me.

He gave a low, dismissive chuckle. "You don’t get to decide what you need right now. I’m going to take care of you, and you’re going to accept it.”

His gaze locked onto mine with a smoldering intensity. "There’s no shame in this. You’re mine—every part of you."

His words were like a soothing balm, but also a sharp reminder of my vulnerability. I couldn't help but feel even more exposed, stripped down to my core in front of this stranger who knew me better than anyone else ever had. He lowered me into the tub with gentle hands, the steam rising around me like a cocoon. The warmth seeped into my body, easing the cramps and tension that had been plaguing me for days.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said softly, his gaze lingering on me before he turned to leave.

Once he was gone, I sank deeper into the water and sighed heavily. How had my once ordinary life taken such a surreal turn? My thoughts were a tangled mess, swirling with confusion about his motives, and an unexpected curiosity about him.

He was a man I should have hated, but somehow, I couldn’t. Every part of me knew I should despise him for taking my freedom, for pulling me into his twisted world. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, true hatred eluded me.

I wanted to loathe the way his eyes followed me, to shudder when he touched me, but it never felt that simple. There was something about him, something that stirred in me even when I wanted to feel only anger. His power was undeniable, but it was more than that. His presence, dark and consuming, kept me on the edge, teetering between fear and something far more dangerous.

I could tell myself that it was all because he had made me his captive, that my mind was playing tricks, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t the whole truth. There was something about his control and his dominance that drew me in despite everything. As much as I should have been planning to escape, my thoughts circled back to him.

There was his voice, his touch, the way he ruled over his world and now, over me. It wasn’t just that he had claimed my body; he was taking my mind, too. That, more than anything, terrified me. I sighed and slipped deeper into the tub. I found myself transfixed by the sweeping view of the lake from the bathroom window. Its tranquil waters stretched out endlessly towards the distant horizon, a peaceful refuge in contrast to the chaos of my new reality.

Standing tall amidst the breathtaking landscape was the solitary lighthouse, a stoic figure watching over the stillness below. Its white facade gleamed against the calm water, its towering presence commanding attention. Despite its beauty, there was an underlying sense of foreboding. It was as though it held secrets within its walls waiting to be discovered.

The rocky cliffs mirrored the jagged edges of my own feelings, the isolation wrapping tighter around me with each passing day.

My thoughts inevitably drifted to Anya, and a sharp pang of guilt and worry pierced my chest. We had always been in sync, our cycles aligning like some twisted cosmic joke.

Was she suffering the same discomfort in this strange place?

Was she even alive?

The thought sent a cold wave of dread over me, drowning out the warmth of the bath. I imagined her somewhere; dealing with the same confusion and fear I was. I reached for the body wash and washcloth carefully placed on the edge of the tub, struck again by the strangeness of my situation. The bathroom felt like it belonged in a high-end spa.

It was just another facet of my captivity - a gilded cage with no escape. As I lathered the cloth between my fingers, the ridiculously soft fabric gliding over my skin, I tried desperately to scrub away the physical discomfort and mental turmoil of my situation. As I immersed myself in the solitary ritual of cleansing, a sudden awareness sliced through my consciousness like a knife. A sensation of invisible threads binding me to an unknown presence sent shivers down my spine.

My hand froze, and I slowly turned, finding him standing just inside the doorway. The casual lean of his body against the frame was deceptive. His eyes held an intensity that felt like a physical touch. The air thickened around us, charged with an electric current that connected us in a way words could never describe. In his gaze, I saw a whirlwind of emotions – possessiveness and desire, yes, but also something dangerously close to adoration.

"You're breathtakingly beautiful.” His voice was a deep timbre that reverberated throughout the room. "I could stare at you for hours on end."

A lump formed in my throat as I tried to process his words. Before I could respond, he revealed a package in his hands, giving me a much-needed topic of deflection. “Are those for me?”

He smirked knowingly. “Organic and crafted for ultimate comfort,” he boasted, walking confidently towards the double sinks, and placing the pads down before retrieving a fluffy towel for me.

“I’ve always used the cups,” I found myself replying.

"I know, but I won’t allow anything inside of you except me."

I blinked, momentarily thrown by the boldness of his statement. “You won’t... allow?” I echoed, half-questioning, half-challenging, though my voice lacked the bite I intended.

He turned towel in hand, with that same knowing look that always set me on edge. “That’s right, only me.”

I stood still as he wrapped the towel around me, feeling like a fragile doll in his strong grasp.

"It was delayed due to me vetting everyone to make sure we didn’t have a repeat of the servitor situation, but our staff has returned, and they are waiting downstairs to meet their new Mistress."

Mistress? The moniker felt like a heavy cloak draped over my shoulders, one I wasn't sure how to wear. His hands brushed against my skin in a possessive touch.

"You have the morning to explore our estate," he continued, his tone upbeat. "But don't forget about Chapel later today." A hint of reverence laced his words.

The mention of that building extinguished all warmth from the bath. My mind flashed to the strict schedule Esther and Nicolette had shown me, each day mapped out with precision. I hadn't seen Nicolette in days.

Esther, however, up until recently had been a more frequent presence, always appearing with infectious energy.

“S-should I wear something specific?”

His eyes lit up with a mix of amusement and approval. "You'll look beautiful in anything but choose a dress from the upper level."

"I'll find something," I managed to reply, my voice steadier than I felt.

His warm hands delicately cupped my face, tracing the line of my jaw with a feather-light touch. He ran his thumb across my cheek, sending shivers down my spine. “I can’t remember the last time I was this hard,” he brushed his lips against mine. “You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now. The feeling of you wrapped around me, there’s nothing like it.”

My mind raced as I tried to process his words. “But...I'm on my period," I finally blurted out, hoping it would be enough to dissuade him.

"And? Why would that stop me?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

I bit my lip nervously, unsure of how to respond to this man who had no reservations or inhibitions. "Isn't that unhygienic?" I asked hesitantly.

His grin widened, revealing dazzling white teeth. "I don't believe in such things," he stated confidently, pulling me closer and pressing his body against mine. "In fact, there's something quite erotic about the idea." His hands roamed down my back, tracing the curves of my hips before sliding lower and cupping the sides of my thighs just beneath the towel.

“Will it hurt?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the words trembling as they left my lips.

He paused, his hand lingering against my skin. His eyes darkened, a slow smile spreading across his face as if my question amused him. He pulled away just enough to study me, the weight of his attention making my heart pound.

“You’re so innocent,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction, as though he reveled in the very idea. His grip tightened slightly, just enough to remind me of his dominance. "The fact that I was your first... you have no idea how much I love that."

A mixture of revulsion and arousal churned in my stomach, the heat of his words twisting my insides. He moved closer again, his lips hovering over mine, teasing but not yet touching. “I marked you, Lolita. No one else will ever have what I took from you. No one will ever get close.”

My breath hitched at his words, and he smirked, reading me too easily. “I love that I was your first. I love that you were untouched before me. Because now, everything that happens to you, every kiss, every ache, every pleasure... it's mine. You’ll never forget it, and I’ll never let you.”

He let the silence hang between us, his presence overpowering, suffocating.

I tried to find words, but nothing came. He leaned in again, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Does that scare you?” I swallowed hard. “It should," he added the dark promise.

His lips pressed firmly to my forehead before he released me with a devilish smirk. "Unfortunately, I have a meeting this morning," he sighed, his eyes still fixed on me possessively. "Otherwise, I would already have you bent over and begging." His eyes swept over me again. "I'll be waiting for you downstairs," he said with a more refined grin. "Come down when you're ready." With one last touch of my cheek, he turned and walked away.

I stood there, staring at the door long after he'd left.