With a war-cry, I smashed the cylindrical prison and prayed with everything I had left that I was strong enough.

Strong enough to survive.

Strong enough to survive Q.

Stroke me, provoke me, adore me, I implore thee, take all of me, ensnare me, play me to your tune

The release wasn’t enough.

It’d been too quick, too tame.

Even as I’d driven deep inside Tess, coming hard and fast, I knew it wouldn’t sate me for long.

It wouldn’t sate me because it’d been normal. Fucking vanilla. Sex wasn’t what gave me pleasure and got me off. It was the dominance—the role-play, the mind games, the linking of masculine and feminine through bodily control.

The one strike I’d delivered had been enough to send me over the edge, but not enough to stop the churning in my gut for more. I needed worse. I needed dirty.

I sighed, throwing an arm over my eyes.

Tess was still in the bathroom. She’d been in there for at least forty minutes.

What the fuck was she doing?

My eyes travelled around the suite. From the bedroom, I could see most of the lounge and part of the drawing room where dinner and business meetings were concluded. Each room took up a colossal amount of space with huge windows bordering the view of the seaside, colourful umbrellas, and lobster-red sunbathers.

I threw myself back onto the covers, staring at the ceiling. The suite consisted of soothing shades of white: eggshell, alabaster, and chalk. I knew because the hotel stupidly provided a decoration guide complete with drapery design, carpet blends, and colour swatches.

As if I’d come here for fucking decorating advice.

I’d flicked through the magazine after rolling it up into a tube, testing it as a spanking device. I’d discarded it because the slick glossy pages were too heavy—it would bruise. And although I wanted Tess to pant and a few tears to be shed, I also hated the thought of marking her. Which twisted my gut with perplexity.

I missed the straight forwardness of before. The joy at knowing Tess could take it. Now, I had no fucking idea what she wanted or even what I wanted.

Did I want to hurt her?

Yes. Fuck, yes.

Did I want to make her cry?

Yes. I loved her tears.

Did I want to protect her and never lay another finger on her?

More than anything.

I would’ve castrated myself if it meant I could be free of the evil lurking in my blood. Tess didn’t deserve any of that. Tess deserved to be made love to. Not fucked. Not used by a man who had issues deeper than the fucking ocean.

The door opened.

Tess came out of the bathroom. I sucked in a breath as she made her way toward the bed. Her naked body was flushed and scrubbed. Droplets from the shower sparkled in the late afternoon sunshine streaming through the window.

My eyes dropped to the red outline of my hand on her thigh.

Ah, shit. Seeing the mark tangled my conscience into further chaos. My heart raced in bitter regret, while my cock leapt with fucking joy. The blush. The thrill. The knowledge I’d put it there sickened as well as bewitched me.

I wanted more.

No, you don’t, you sick bastard.

My eyes fell to the ugly yellows and greens mottling her skin. Fading abuse from other bastards like me who got off on abusing women.

How can I be like them? How could I hurt the woman who owned my soul?

I struggled to suck in a breath as Tess climbed gracefully on the bed, carefully avoiding my eyes. Every movement was understated, carefully orchestrated as if she was invisible. Her hair was coiled upward while damp strands escaped, sticking to her neck. Her spine stood out, her collarbone a stark necklace. She looked so innocent and young.

But strong. So fucking strong.

I waited to see if she’d come to me. My arms throbbed to hold her. I wanted her to curl against me and let me guard her—I would be her protection so the nightmares would never find her.

But she didn’t come closer.

With a soft sigh, she reclined against a pillow, staring upward. Her eyes were large and lost. Her face tense and timid.

My blood boiled. What had she been thinking about in the bathroom? Something had to have happened for her to become so withdrawn.

It didn’t make sense. I hadn’t hurt her. I knew she’d enjoyed me taking her. She’d come. She’d wanted what we’d shared. I knew that with utmost certainty. Her release had milked my cock, telling me blatantly how much she enjoyed it.

So why? Why the silence and sadness?

Confusion itched my muscles, making my temper flare.

“Plus de secrets, esclave.” No more secrets.

Tess looked over, her eyes filling with warmth. “No secrets. Just tired.”

Damn fucking lies.

The large bed created a barrier between us. Lies filled the silence, secrets distanced us—pushing us further and further away.

I’m done.

Nothing would stop me from cracking open her mind and finding out the truth. I was done fucking waiting.

Throwing myself off the bed, I prowled around the mattress toward Tess. My cock hung heavy between my legs, reminding me I had plenty more to give. I’d use it to break her. I’d drive her mad with wanting and then I’d ask. I’d demand to know.

Tess’s eyes closed, either blatantly ignoring me or hiding yet more secrets.

“Esclave. Get up,” I ordered.

Her gaze flashed open; she sucked in a gasp. Her vision drifted down my chest, over sparrows and ink to latch onto my rapidly growing erection.

It jerked under her inspection, begging for her wet heat.

Tess froze; something flickered across her face but then was gone. For a split second clouds rolled over the sun, drenching her in shadow, painting her face with grief. But then the sun broke through, and she smiled.

Her body moved like water, slinking and rising from the pool of bedding to stand before me. Fuck, she was stunning. And mine. All mine.

I locked my muscles to stop myself from reaching for her as she came to stand before me. Every moment echoed with strength then shyness. Rebellion then obedience. Her entire demeanour played havoc with my head.

One moment I saw the woman I fell for, the next all I saw was prey. Prey I wanted to molest and break and bend to whatever sick fantasy I desired.

My jaw locked as she raised her chin, looking me in the eye. I wanted her to bow to me. To serve. To let me do whatever I damn well pleased.

Everything inside—everything I’d been missing—sprang back to life. My soul that’d been scarred and tattered thanks to Tess’s abduction slithered away, leaving me angry. So fucking angry.

The anger started as a burn in my heart—a spark with a flash of gasoline, erupting into a flame, igniting my blood until my entire body set alight with furious need.

I needed to take Tess ruthlessly and painfully. I needed to remember who I truly was at heart. She might have let me brand her and accept my callous ways, but I’d held back. All my life I’d held back.

And every time I did, it layered more darkness in my gut. Building into something manic. Tess had let me use her, but it was nothing, nothing, compared to what I wanted now.

“Je suis désolé.” I’m sorry.

Her lips parted, her skin whitening.

My arms banded around her—picking her up in a vice. “I’m not done with you, mon coeur.” My heart.

My mouth stole hers; my legs almost buckled at the fresh taste of her shower, cloaking the muskiness of spent desire.

Her lips went slack, allowing my tongue to dip inside her mouth. I groaned as she kissed me back. Her hands left the ramrod position by her sides, coming to rest on my hips. Her fingernails scratched my skin, dragging me forward until my lips bruised hers in a searing kiss.