Page 42 of The Beast's Broken Angel

“My mother's piano,” he said, voice softer than I'd ever heard it. “I had it moved here after... after the fire. The only thing I saved from the music room.” His fingers traced the edge of the keys without pressing them. “I haven't played in years. Couldn't bear to touch it for the longest time.”

The vulnerability in his admission made my chest tight. “What changed?”

“You.” He looked at me then, those mismatched eyes holding something raw and unguarded. “You make me remember who I was before the scars. Before the anger. Before I became what Harrison shaped me into.”

He sat on the bench, hands hovering over the keys like he was afraid they might burn him. “I used to play for hours. Mozart, mostly. Some Chopin when I was feeling ambitious.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Mum said I had the touch for it. That music was in my blood.”

“Play for me,” I said softly, settling beside him on the bench. “Please.”

Adrian's hands trembled slightly as they finally found the keys. The first notes were hesitant, uncertain, but then muscle memory took over and the music flowed. It was Mozart—something achingly beautiful and melancholy that filled the small space with pure emotion.

I watched his scarred fingers move across the keys with impossible grace, watched the tension leave his shoulders as the music carried him somewhere beyond the violence and darkness that defined his days.

This was Adrian as he might have been—should have been—before trauma reshaped him into a weapon.

When the piece ended, silence settled between us like a blessing.

“It's been so long,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I thought I'd forgotten how.”

“You could never forget something that beautiful,” I said, my hand finding his on the keys. “It's part of who you are. The real you.”

He turned to look at me, and I saw tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. “You see things in me that I thought were dead.”

“They were never dead,” I corrected. “Just buried. Waiting for the right moment to breathe again.”

Adrian stood slowly, fingers sliding from the keys like he was releasing something sacred. The silence between us pulsed—too full, too fragile—until he reached out, tracing his thumb along my cheek, a ghost of a touch that left me trembling.

“Come with me,” he said, voice low and taut, as though any louder and it might break.

We slipped back into his room, the familiar shadows and softness now charged with something darker. The moment the door closed behind us, the air changed—thicker, waiting.

I froze. Someone was already there.

Viktor.

He sat in Adrian’s chair, impossibly at ease for a man his size, legs sprawled, fingers steepled. For a wild second, I thought I’d walked into the wrong room.

My pulse stuttered. “What—” The question snagged in my throat, raw and half-formed.

Viktor’s gaze flicked up, as lazy as a lion waking. There was no surprise in his expression. He’d been waiting for us. Waiting for me .

A sick, weightless feeling dropped into my stomach. I looked at Adrian, searching for explanation, for reassurance, for anything except the cold calculation I found instead.

He didn’t give me time to protest.

Viktor rose to his feet, moving with that predatory confidence that always left me off-balance. The dark gleam in his eyes promised trouble.

Adrian didn’t hesitate. “Both of you. Undress. Now.”

The command made my blood run hot. Viktor stripped with calm efficiency, eyes on me the whole time, and as each layer came off, it was impossible not to stare.

Underneath the expensive suit was a body that looked built for violence—broad chest dusted with dark hair, thick slabs of muscle over his shoulders and arms, old scars scoring his skin like battle trophies.

His stomach was flat and hard, a trail of hair leading down to where his cock hung heavy and thick, already hard.

Everything about him was big—hands, thighs, the dark ink swirling over one bicep, the cocky set of his jaw as he watched me take it all in.

It was raw, intimidating strength, and it made my breath catch.

Adrian reached for my chin, making me look at him. “Tonight, you do exactly as you’re told. Is that clear?”

My heart hammered. “Yes.”

Viktor’s voice was rougher, threaded with hunger. “Yes, sir.”

Adrian smiled—a wolf’s smile, sharp enough to cut. He took two silk ties from a drawer, letting the cool fabric slip between his fingers. “No hiding. No pretending. I want you both raw. Helpless for me.”

He slipped the blindfold over my eyes first. The world went black, my breath catching in my throat. Everything else sharpened: the scent of leather and sweat, Viktor’s heavy presence behind me, the soft drag of silk as Adrian secured it.

Viktor’s hands found mine, his grip commanding but gentle as he guided my wrists above my head. He moved with total confidence, like he’d done this a hundred times before—like he owned my body as much as Adrian ever could.

Adrian’s voice was a purr in my ear. “Open for me, Noah. Good.”

Viktor’s voice followed, closer than I’d expected, thick with something dark. “You like this, da?” His accent roughened the words, made them dangerous. “Blind. Waiting. You don’t know what’s coming. Makes you shiver.”

He pulled my arms tighter, silk biting into my wrists as Adrian tied the knot. My skin prickled everywhere Viktor’s fingers brushed—slow, deliberate, mapping me out. His breath was warm against my neck. “You smell nervous. You should be.”

Adrian’s lips ghosted my ear. “You’re not allowed to come until I say. Either of you. Understood?”

“Yes,” I gasped, my voice shaking.

Viktor gave a low, amused sound. “Yes, sir,” he echoed, mocking and sincere at once.

Adrian pressed me down onto the bed, my body guided by hands I couldn’t see—Viktor’s strength, Adrian’s command.

The mattress dipped under Viktor’s weight as he crawled behind me, caging me in, one huge hand splayed across my lower back to pin me.

I could feel the heat of him, cock already leaking, balls heavy and hot against my ass.

His voice was right in my ear, rough and possessive. “So pretty like this. You don’t fight, you just tremble. You want to be used, little one?”

Adrian’s laughter was low and dark. “He does. And you—Viktor, show him how good obedience can feel.”

Viktor’s hands roamed over my hips, kneading my ass, squeezing until I gasped. “Relax for me,” he murmured, running a calloused palm up my thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. “Let us take everything. You want it—don’t lie.”

I whimpered, arched into his touch, blind and desperate.

Viktor nudged his cock between my cheeks, teasing, making me squirm. “Feel how hard you make me?” His hand slid beneath me, wrapping around my own cock, squeezing. “So eager, even when you’re helpless. ”

Adrian leaned in, breath hot at the back of my neck. “He’s beautiful like this, Viktor. All yours for now. Don’t be gentle.”

Viktor growled—hungry, satisfied. “Never gentle. Not for you.” He thrust against me, letting me feel his length, his balls slapping heavy against my ass. “You take it, yes? Take what we give you.”

Adrian’s hands tangled in my hair, yanking my head back so his mouth could devour my moans, swallowing every sound. “Noah,” he murmured, voice honey-thick, “you’ll beg before I let you come. For me. For him. You want it that much?”

“Yes—God, yes,” I whispered, shaking.

Viktor’s mouth found my shoulder, teeth scraping. “Good boy. Scream if you need. No one will help you.” There was dark promise in his tone—cruel, but almost tender. “We will ruin you together.”

Adrian knelt in front of me, his fingers ghosting over my lips, then trailing down my throat, chest, stomach. He took his time, letting the anticipation build until I was shivering with need.

Adrian’s thumb pressed down, parting my lips. “Open up.”

I obeyed, breath trembling. Adrian leaned in and let a thick strand of spit fall straight onto my tongue.

Viktor’s grip tightened on my jaw, turning my head just enough so his face was above mine. “You like it messy?” he rasped, before spitting directly into my open mouth, the taste of both of them mixing on my tongue, making me dizzy with humiliation and want.

Adrian’s voice was dark silk: “Swallow.”

I did, throat working, every nerve alight.

“Open your mouth,” Adrian commanded, sliding his cock past my lips, controlling the depth with one hand tangled in my hair. The other hand caressed my jaw, his touch both possessive and gentle. Viktor kissed along my spine, teeth grazing my skin, making me moan around Adrian’s cock.

Adrian withdrew, leaving me gasping, spit slicking my lips. “Viktor, get him ready.”

Viktor’s hands were on me instantly, spreading my cheeks wide, rough fingers digging into my flesh.

I felt the cool slip of lube as he worked it in, one thick finger breaching me with almost no warning—a jolt that made me gasp and arch back against him.

He twisted, worked me open, scissoring his fingers, the burn blooming into slick, molten pleasure.

“Take it,” Viktor growled, accent rough, breath hot against the small of my back. “Open up, pretty boy. You want to be filled, da? You take what I give.”

He pressed in deeper, another finger sliding alongside the first, making my hips twitch.

His grip on me was bruising—possession written in every touch.

When I whimpered, he leaned in, tongue tracing my spine, his low laugh vibrating against my skin.

“You’re so tight for me. Not used to this, huh?

Adrian spoils you. I make you work for it. ”