Page 3

Aria

I imagined a man like Cillian living in some cold stone mansion on the outskirts of town, so I’m surprised when he pulls up in front of a modern condo tucked in a calm suburban neighborhood. The inside of the house is just as nice, with cool furniture and abstract art. On a normal day, I’d want to look around and take it all in. But right now, I can barely keep my eyes open, every muscle in my body aching with exhaustion.

Cillian seems to notice. “Let’s get you to the guest room,” he says softly, his hand brushing my arm as he leads me through a hallway lined with doors. His touch is warm, grounding, and something in the way he moves—so deliberate, so sure—makes me feel oddly safe, like I’ve known him for a while. I know I have no reason to trust him—he just bought me at an auction, after all—but I can’t help it.

We stop at the end of the hall, and he opens a door to a cozy room with a large bed that cures my fatigue as soon as I look at it. I glance up to see Cillian watching me with that intensity that makes tingles shoot all over my body. Up close and in normal lighting, he’s somehow even more striking—broad shoulders filling out his perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair just slightly tousled, framing sharp, chiseled features. His eyes are the color of the sea, cold and deep, and I’m drowning in their depths.

He breaks our eye contact, disappearing into another room and returning with a stack of soft-looking clothes. “Here—something more comfortable to wear. Is there anything else you need?” His low baritone voice gently caresses my skin. I like the way he talks to me in soft tones, like he’s scared I might break or something.

I shake my head, managing a small, tired smile. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Cillian nods. He gestures to the telephone on the nightstand. “If you need anything, just dial one. The maid will come, or I’ll check on you in a bit.” He hesitates, his hand lingering on the doorframe. For a moment, it’s as if he wants to say something else, but can’t find the words.

“Thank you,” I say, the words barely a whisper.

He nods, his gaze softening just a little. “Rest, love. You’ve had a long day.”

My heart skips a beat at the word “love.” Memories of the auction house flood my head, his big manhood pulsing violently in my palms, his deep erotic grunts as I ran my tongue along his length. It’d felt so good knowing that I could make him respond like that. I felt…powerful. Heat floods my cheeks at the thought. I never thought the day would come when I’d do something like that, and in front of all those people. But I only saw Cillian, the hard planes of his handsome face as he struggled to stay in control.

I look up to see Cillian watching me as if trying to figure out what’s going on in my head. His eyes have gone dark with a staggering hunger that sends a surprising thrill down my spine. I blush even harder, nervously biting my lower lip. His eyes drop to my lips, lingering meaningfully before returning his gaze to my eyes.

“Goodnight, Aria.” With a small nod, he turns and leaves, closing the door gently behind him.

As soon as the door clicks shut, I let out a deep sigh, immediately changing into the soft T-shirt and boxers Cillian provided and inhaling his scent that clings to the fabric. I kick the little red skirt away, hoping I never have to see it again, before collapsing onto the bed. I turn on my side and let the memory of the day wash over me again.

Everything that’s happened today—no, tonight—feels surreal, like a fantasy wrapped in a nightmare. Just yesterday, my life was ordinary, almost painfully mundane. I spent my days barely scraping by, chasing a dream that seemed more and more unrealistic. And now, here I am, in the guest room of a handsome stranger, wearing his clothes, after a night I never imagined living, let alone surviving.

I can still hear the voices of those men, shielded by that terrifying darkness, watching me. But Cillian was there at the auction too…and he paid a million dollars to own me. I should be terrified of him like I am of those other faceless men, but I’m not. Instead, thoughts of him invade my mind, slicing through the horrifying memories that threaten to pull me under.

I shiver, my cheeks heating as I remember the way his large hand guided mine over the bulge in his pants, how he looked at me, his face tight with restrained hunger. His deep, almost pained groans as he came…the way his body shuddered under my touch, that soft, possessive growl of pleasure. The thought alone makes a strange heat pool between my legs. I rub my thighs together in an effort to ease the ache building in my core.

What’s happening to me? I shouldn’t want to remember what happened tonight. But I do. Every last detail.

I sigh softly, burrowing deeper into the bed. It’s soft and luxurious, just like everything else in this house. I close my eyes again, letting my mind wander aimlessly, and of course all my thoughts are centered around Cillian.

I wonder what he does for a living.

He must be wealthy if he can afford to spend a million dollars on a whim.

I should try to find some information about him online.

He’s not the leader of some underground crime syndicate, is he?

I wouldn’t be surprised, though…he kinda fits the bill—a sexy crime lord.

The thoughts drift in and out of my mind, straying in and out of focus as I slowly give in to my exhaustion. I drift off to sleep, and I’m suddenly thrown back to the most horrifying part of the night.

I’m standing alone in the chapel, surrounded by a terrifying darkness. Faceless men leer at me, their voices echoing mockingly in my head. I try to scream, to run, but my body won’t move, trapped under the crushing weight of those stares. I look around desperately, murmuring Cillian’s name under my breath, but he’s nowhere to be found. He’s not coming to save me this time.

I open my eyes with a start, and find myself staring into Cillian’s endless blue eyes. He’s crouched beside the bed, his face inches from mine, his hand placed lightly on my shoulder.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, his voice a steady, soothing rumble that makes my heart race for entirely different reasons. “You were having a nightmare.”

I give him a small nod, trying to regulate my thudding heartbeat. Tears slip down my cheeks before I can stop them. Cillian sits beside me on the bed and pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I cling to him, words tumbling out in between sobs. “I was…at the chapel, and couldn’t escape…they were—”

“Shh…I’ve got you, love,” he says, his voice low, steady. He pulls me closer, his hand running over my back, each touch steadying me. “You’re safe now,” he whispers. “No one’s touching you again. Not while I’m around.”

He eases me back into bed, pulling the blankets up around me with surprising gentleness. And then he leans in, his lips brushing my forehead, then my nose. He stops just inches from my mouth, his gaze locking onto mine with a heat that makes my heart race erratically.

“Sleep well, love,” he murmurs in a rough whisper that sends a shiver coursing through me.

He starts to pull away, but I don’t let go. I tighten my arms around his neck, surprising both of us. I just know that I don’t want him to leave. Not yet.

“Stay,” I say softly, barely more than a whisper.

He freezes. His gaze darkens, his jaw clenching as his eyes burn into mine. Something tells me he’s holding on to control by a thread. “You’re testing me, love,” he warns, voice tight. “If I stay, I can’t promise to keep my hands to myself.”

My cheeks heat, but I don’t back down. “Maybe I want you to touch me,” I say, voice shaking.

His fist tightens in the blankets, his body tense with that same wild energy as in that auction hall. For a split second, I think he’s going to kiss me. But then he lets go of the blanket, his expression hardening. He straightens, takes a step back, and walks around to the other side of the bed. I sink back against the pillows, delighted at first, but then confused when he lies down above the blankets.

He gently rolls me over onto my side, facing away from him, and curls his arm around my body.

“Sleep, love,” he whispers.

I bite my lip to stop my tears from falling. Was I not clear that I wanted him to touch me? This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.

I feel so stupid. What did I expect? I should have known that a man like Cillian wouldn’t want a girl like me under normal circumstances. He’s way above my league. His arm is a comforting weight, but I wanted so much more. Cillian’s face, his touch, his voice—all of it keeps looping in my head.

I finally drift off, only to wake up again in what feels like no time. The bed behind me is cold and empty, and I sit up with a sigh. Of course he didn’t want to stay in bed with me all night. I must have seemed so needy to him, crying about a nightmare when he already saved me. What more can I ask of him?

I get out of bed with another sigh and head out the door barefoot. I try to be quiet as I walk through the hallway, careful not to make any noise that’ll wake Cillian up. I would probably die from embarrassment if I had to face him now, after he rejected me. I head toward what seems to be the kitchen and as I reach the doorway, I freeze in my tracks.

Cillian is leaning against the counter, drinking water from a plastic bottle. He’s shirtless, his broad shoulders and sculpted chest illuminated softly by the dim kitchen lights. His muscles flex slightly as he lifts the bottle to his lips. My throat goes dry at the sight, my eyes roaming down his chiseled chest to the lean muscles of his stomach. Every inch of him radiates a raw, masculine energy. My pulse quickens, my body heating up with a now-familiar ache. I start to back away quietly, hoping he doesn’t see me.

But his gaze snaps to mine, brows raised slightly in amusement. “You’re just gonna leave like that?” he asks quietly, his lips curving upward in an amused smile.

Heat floods my cheeks and I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me.

“I thought…I just…” I drop my gaze, unable to handle the smoldering heat in his gorgeous blue eyes. “I wanted a glass of milk, but I could come back.”

Still smiling, he grabs a glass, and a bottle of milk from the fridge. He pours some milk into the glass and walks over to me.

“Here you go.”

I take the glass from him, his fingers lightly brushing mine, sending jolts of electricity zapping through my body. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice almost a whisper. I raise the glass to my lips, my hand trembling slightly. I can barely think or function with Cillian standing so close, his eyes roaming my body with deliberate slowness, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I gulp the rest of the milk, almost choking from swallowing too fast.

“I-I should get back to bed,” I stutter, clearing my throat awkwardly.

I start to turn away but his voice stops me. “Don’t go, Aria.”

My heart skips a beat. I like way he says my name, the way it rolls off his tongue like a caress.

“Why?” I ask quietly, thinking back to his rejection earlier. It hurts. “I didn’t think you wanted me around you.”

“I do, love,” he responds in a tight voice. “I want more than you can possibly imagine. Look at me.” I raise my eyes to his face and he steps closer, gently caressing my jaw. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

My heart is beating so loudly I wonder if he can hear it. “From what?”

“Myself.”

“Why? Because I’m younger?”

“How old are you, love?”

“I’ll be twenty in two months.”

His mouth curves upward in an amused smile. “You’re indeed young, but that isn’t why. I think you should be with someone as good and pure as you are.”

“What about you?” I ask, searching his face. “Or do you think you’re a monster because you buy girls as playthings for your amusement?”

I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth. Cillian’s expression has gone cold, a muscle ticking in his temple.

“I don’t buy girls,” he says quietly, his tone deathly silent and dark with something that’s as terrifying as it is exciting. “I bought you, my love, to free you—it had nothing to do with my amusement.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He cuts me off. “I need you to know that you’re not a prisoner here. I don’t expect any kind of payment from you, and I don’t own you.” My heart shrivels in disappointment, but then comes to life again with his next words. “I want you to be safe, and happy—preferably safe and happy here. In my bed. With me. But you are free to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave,” I say quickly. “I—I was so afraid, at the chapel, but then when you bought me I knew I’d be safe. I know it’s probably sick of me to enjoy what happened, but…in that moment, I was so glad to be yours . And I still want to belong to you. If…if you want me.”

The words die in my throat as he pulls me roughly against his chest, claiming me in a fierce, almost punishing kiss. His mouth against mine is hard, unyielding, and I feel the shock of it deep in my bones. His hand slides into my hair, pulling me closer, and I gasp against his lips, completely overwhelmed. Every inch of me responds to him, my pulse hammering as his other hand grips my waist, his fingers digging into my skin. I don’t even think—I just melt into him, my hands slipping up to his shoulders as he presses his body firmly against mine.

In one smooth motion, he lifts me off the ground. My legs instinctively wrap around him as he carries me up the stairs and down the hallway to his room without missing a beat. He lays me down on the bed, and for a moment, he just hovers over me, his intense gaze roaming over my face. His lips curl into a dark smile as he leans down, his mouth brushing against my ear, sending shivers up my spine.

“I want you, Aria. So much.”