Page 25 of The Collector

She slapped Elanah's hand away, anger flashing in her eyes like a dare. Her posture was rigid, coiled, as if daring anyone to touch her, make a move against her. Before the moment could fracture into something explosive between the two women, Destiny—ever the quiet fulcrum of the group—leaned in, her touch featherlight, and spoke to Mynx.

She murmured, “Easy. It was just an accident,” keeping her voice low and steady. The words didn't erase the tension, but shepaused it—held it in suspension like breath before a scream. She watched the woman, waiting for her next move.

"I'm Destiny, why don't you come upstairs with me—we can find you something clean to put on. You probably haven't had time to shop yet, and we're about the same size."

Not waiting for Mynx's response, she offered a small, knowing smile and continued. "Come on—" Destiny pulled at her hand softly. It wasn't just a suggestion—it was an escape route, one Mynx could take if she wanted to ease the tension of the moment.

Mynx hesitated for a heartbeat, her sharp gaze flicking over the blonde beside her. Destiny's expression held no judgment, only easy warmth that softened Mynx's resolve, chipping away at the tension in her posture. A scowl lingered on her face, but it softened. Her shoulders relaxed just a fraction. With a slow nod, she rose, stepping away from the table and following Destiny out of the dining room. Conversation swelled behind them, but he noticed Mynx barely registered it as she followed Destiny up the stairs. Her exit was a temporary truce in an unspoken battle Elanah launched, one that Raven knew was far from over.

Elanah turned back to Raven, batting her eyelashes innocently. Frustration simmered just beneath his surface. He clenched it tight, barely keeping it leashed as she pushed him closer to the edge. With controlled precision, he moved back from the table, tossing his napkin onto his plate before turning on his heel and leaving.

I need to get the fuck out of here before I really lose my shit.

Raven was afraid his anger might twist into something he'd later regret, and he wasn't ready to cross that line.

If he was being honest with himself, the anger he was feeling wasn't just about what Elanah had done. It was with himself, acknowledging the fact that he felt possessive over Mynx and wanted to protect her regardless of how it might affect the restof his life. Somehow, she was creeping into his life, sinking her claws into him. Working her way into his heart with an ease that awed him, and the truth gnawed at him in a quiet storm. It threatened to spill into the rest of his life. And that was a risk he couldn't afford.

If he let his concern for her show—even for a moment—she'd become their target. The people in this room saw him as an unattainable conquest, the prize no one could claim. If they sensed his weakness for her, they'd tear her apart just to save face.

I need to play it smart. Rein it in before these temporary feelings bleed into my life and unravel everything I've built. Besides, Mynx is a bratty, headstrong woman—she'd probably watch me burn and call it justice. Even if I wanted to explore whatever this is between us, there's no way she feels the same. Not her. Not with me.

Raven's thoughts remained calculated—each move deliberate, his silence intentional. He needed to play a long game, one woven from patience and precision, if he really wanted to make her part of his life. Victory over her wouldn't come through domination. She would need to be baptized by the fire that was his life. The King's world wasn't built for the faint of heart. It demanded strength, demanded control. Raven had mastered both. Now it was time to see if she could. So far, she has been doing a damn good job.

Mynx was recalibrating—shifting her perspective to navigate the terrain with quiet power. It wasn't loud, but it was unmistakable: strong enough to challenge, stronger still to walk away. Every move she made chipped away at his expectations, revealing something rare and unexpected. She didn't just survive—she radiated a magnetism that carved her path forward. Under scrutiny, she didn't flinch. She held her ground, not out of defiance, but from a profound certainty of who she was and whatshe refused to become. In his eyes, that made her singular. A diamond among stones. Not polished by others but forged by the fire that burned inside her. She gleamed brighter with every moment, and he couldn't look away.

He saw her—clear as day. And it was messing with his head, turning him into a God damn chivalrous fool. The kind who held doors and caught feelings. The kind he swore he'd never be. But questions lingered, quiet and insistent in his mind.

Could she handle life with him? Could she carry the weight of a world where his attention demanded strength—always, relentlessly? Hell, the real question, the one he kept dodging, was whether she could ever love a man who'd ripped her from the only life she'd ever known.

Time would answer. And Raven, ever patient, would wait because she wasn't going anywhere. Not now. Not with him watching.

Punching the security code into the pad beside his door, Raven stepped into his sanctuary of controlled disorder. The office greeted him with the familiar sight of organized chaos—a domain that mirrored his life. Documents and files formed neat yet towering stacks across the shelves, while his large walnut desk stood at the center, commanding the room. It bore the weight of his world: papers fanned out in calculated disarray, pens resting precisely where he'd left them, and a single leather notebook open to his most pressing thoughts. The chair behind it seemed to beckon, waiting for him to reclaim his place and confront the demands of the day. He settled into his chair.

Her contract lay atop his desk, its presence more than just ink on paper—it was a sentence, binding Mynx to the Cordoba Kings and his father's rule. The NDA beside it ensured silence, forbidding any mention of Blood Lust, its members, or the intricate web of power that kept it thriving. It was finality in written form, waiting for her signature to cement her place in a world that was as ruthless as it was intoxicating. He knew she was afraid, but the truth was Blood Lust, and its members could be quite alluring. A slight fear arose within him that he might lose her to the enchantment of promises others might offer her.

Once signed, she wouldn't belong to herself—she would belong to his father until the debt was settled. A prize on display for Blood Lust's most influential. Each member who crossed her path would see an opportunity, a temptation to lure her into their world, their control.

All except him. The man who wanted her most was barred from making a claim—kept at a distance by the King’s rules. Unless he defied his father, and until he was sure of what they might be, it was a battle he wasn't ready to wage—not yet. If the way he felt now was any indication of things to come, he could see the inevitability of that battle with him creeping closer, whether he welcomed it or not. He and his father would eventually be at odds when the path he forged with her veered from the King's standard rules to have her. He needed to be sure.

When they built Blood Lust, they agreed on one rule: no active member of the Kings could claim a performer. It wasn't about morality—it was about control. The rule ensured that every performer remained accessible, untouched by favoritism, and free from personal entanglements. It left the King's with no attachments. No bias. Just power, evenly distributed over the performers to maximize their return on investments in them. His father's investment.

Back then, the rule had meant nothing to him. Now? It was becoming a pain in his ass.

A knock softly rapped on his door. Shelby popped her head in seconds later.

"Hey—I have her here for you," she said.

"Thanks, Shelby—can you send her in?"

"Be gentle, Raven—she's still in shock, raw from the loss of her family." He nodded, and she smiled back at him. She ushered Mynx into the room with a practiced ease.

The presence of his cousin's friendly, business-like face solidified his resolve to attend to the contract details and move forward. Shelby might not be an enforcer or someone prone to violence. However, she had her own methods of persuading people to do what she wanted. And Raven was in no mood to deal with her wrath this morning if he didn't act the way she thought he should

He rose from his seat. Raven's movements were measured in an attempt to put Mynx at ease, as he gestured toward one of the soft leather chairs across from his desk. The chair seemed to swallow her as she sank into it. Her fingers were toying with the hem of her sleeve, betraying her frayed nerves. Despite the unease flickering in her outward appearance, she lifted her eyes and fixed him with a bold, unflinching stare—her defiance burning through the uncertainty of the moment. He couldn't help but admire the strength behind that resolve, even as the tension thickened in the air between them. She pushed tendrils of her blonde curls behind her ears and faced him, waiting.

Get your head in the game.Raven cleared his throat.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked. Attempting to ease the tension of the situation with a thread of normalcy.