“I can tell you are very strong, destined for great things,” she continues, “just like I was before I did something about it, before I seized the moment and took what was mine. But for all the power that keeps your mask in place, behind it I feel like there is a wounded soul, dying to break free. And I would love to be more acquainted with him.” She stands in front of me, pressing her body to mine.
“And what do you think,” I begin, “this wounded soul, dying to break free, is destined to do?”
She touches my bottom lip with the tip of her finger; her dark eyes sweeping over my mouth.
“Kill your brother,” she whispers onto my lips, brushing hers against mine. “Take your revenge, and then take what is rightfully yours.”
She slips her tongue into my mouth; my body, not my rational mind, reacts to her warm flesh. My hands quickly find her hips, gripping the flesh in my rigid fingers; I push her body against the door, tearing away at her robe and it comes apart in front of me; her tits spilling out into my hands. I kiss her hard, hungrily. “I want to feel you,” she whispers when the kiss breaks. “Let me feel how much of the black wolf you really are.” Her mouth collapses around mine again, and her hand finds its way into my pants.
I growl, low and guttural, against the side of her neck when I feel her hand gripping my cock with painful abandon—the rougher the better, you crazy bitch. If I don’t stop myself I’m gonna fuck her. I don’t give a shit about who she is, what she is, or what she does—I’m gonna have to fuck her.
Izzy’s face framed by her butchered auburn hair pops into my mind, and I stumble back a few steps—I can’t leave her alone any longer.
Francesca, looking disappointed, but not slighted, tilts her head to one side.
I straighten my suit.
“I’d love to stay longer,” I say, “but I’m going to be honest with you—I don’t feel good about leaving my girls alone with your pissed off brother roaming around without his leash.”
Francesca smiles, and then closes her robe about her, loosely so that her tits are still easily seen.
“I understand perfectly,” she says. She steps up to me, reaches out and smooths her fingers down the length of my tie. She appears to be thinking about something and then says, “Why don’t you join me again tomorrow before you leave; just you and me; leave your girls at your hotel. That will also give me more time to think about which of my cyprians I can show you next. Tomorrow I can have six or seven of them for you to look at.”
And that’ll give me enough time to figure out how I’m going to get you out of this mansion, bound and gagged so I can collect a payday.
I lean in and kiss her lightly on the mouth.
“I will be here.”
The girl, Sian, is awake when I go back into the room to find Izabel and Nora the same way I left them.
“I won’t go with you!”
“I’m sorry, Niklas,” Izabel, as Naomi, says as I come into the room without Francesca. “I tried to talk to her, told her you wouldn’t hurt her if she cooperated, but she won’t listen to me.”
Miz Ghita—ordered by Francesca to give me whatever I need before escorting us out of the mansion—stands at the open door, waiting. “I will get her some clothes,” she says and walks into the room with us and opens a closet.
I move past Izzy and stop in front of Sian, looking down at her still sitting on the floor in her bloody gown.
“Take off your gown,” I demand, looming over her. When she doesn’t act fast enough, I repeat, “I said take off your gown.”
Finally she obeys; she trembles as she raises her arms above her head, struggling to get the fabric past her shoulders. I crouch in front of her and help her with it, dropping it on the floor afterward. She sits with her legs pressed together over to one side; her arms covering her naked breasts.
“Did the doctor sew you up?” I ask.
She nods, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Show me.”
She doesn’t move; her eyes grow wider.
“Spread your legs and show me,” I repeat, this time with an air of warning.
Her body shaking, her arms come uncrossed and her knees break apart apprehensively. I help her with that too, speeding up the process so we can get the hell out of here. She spreads her legs before me and I examine her carefully so I don’t hurt her—I’m not leaving this place before I’m sure she’s been properly cared for after giving birth. I can’t take her to a hospital and I sure as hell won’t be sewing her up myself. Fuck that.
“Good,” I say, push her legs closed and then reach into my pocket. “I want you to swallow this.”
She looks down into my hand at the pill, then back up at me, shaking her head no.
Grabbing her by the back of the head with one hand, I shove the pill down her throat with the other, pushing my finger deep so I know she swallows it. She gags; thrashes in my grasp, her eyes watering from the sting. Then I close her mouth with my hand and hold it there firmly. “Swallow it.”