"Begin."
The Gray's voice fell over the room like a verdict.
The woman, so breathtakingly beautiful she looked unreal, shifted closer to him.
She brushed her lips against his abs, a light kiss, then another, and another.
Slow. Controlled. Obedient.
Naiara held her breath.
The woman slipped her fingers under his belt, unbuttoned his pants with irritating grace, and lowered the zipper.
He didn't move. Not a muscle. He remained still, imposing, left only in his boxer briefs.
Then she slid those off too. And Naiara turned her head away.
The world shrank around her.
Her dignity shriveled down to something tiny, insignificant, like a crushed ant.
Humiliation.
Shock.
Rage.
Jealousy.
Jealousy.
The word she refused to acknowledge, even inside her own mind.
That man, that monster, that captor, was so beautiful he stole her breath just by existing.
And he had the power to wound her without even touching her.
The Gray noticed her turning away and then he began to moan gently.
Low, deliberate, sensual sounds.
For her.
Only for her.
He wanted her to hear everything.
He wanted to tear her open from the inside.
The woman lowered her head between his legs. Her mouth disappeared around him.
And he spoke, unwavering:
"Look at me."
Naiara froze. One second. Two. Then she broke. She looked.
His eyes cut straight through her. He wasn't looking at the woman. He was looking at her.
As if she were the one kneeling before him, as if every movement was hers.
He let the woman continue, until something changed in his expression.
Naiara's eyes were filling with tears.
Not dramatically.
Quietly. Like a glass cracking under pressure.
She was fighting it. Fighting not to cry.
Not to give him that satisfaction.
He studied her.
Then placed a hand on the beautiful woman's nape.
A small gesture. Enough.
Naiara's jealousy exploded like a whip.
With one swift, furious kick, she drove her foot into the Gray's abdomen.
He staggered back a step, startled.
The woman stopped.
"STOP!" Naiara screamed, her voice splintering. "Enough! What do you want from me? You want to punish me?! You DID! You happy now?! I'm crying because of YOU!"
She threw everything at him.
Her hate.
Her desire.
Her frustration.
Her shame.
Her longing.
He looked at her. Then nodded at the woman.
The stunning woman rose and slipped out of the room without a sound. Leaving them alone.
Tears streaked Naiara's face.
For the first time in his life, the Gray felt a pain he didn't want to name. A sharp, unwelcome sting.
He didn't want to see her like this.
Didn't want to see her break.
So he forced ice back into his eyes. The same ice that had allowed him to become what he was.
"Last night you struck me. Now I've struck you."
Naiara sobbed, "Stop… you can't do this to me… you're sick."
He approached her. Naked. Imposing.
Terrifying.
And for the first time, he touched her like a man claiming what he desired.
His fingers slid along her inner thigh.
Slowly.
Higher. Until they reached her panties.
She jolted. A strangled sound escaped her throat.
The Gray smirked with a dark, ruthless satisfaction.
"If I'm the sick one…" he murmured, brushing the damp fabric with two fingers, "why are you so wet?"
She flushed crimson.
"Don't… don't touch me like that… please…"
"You know that if I wanted," he whispered, "I could fuck you until morning."
She trembled. Her vision swam. Her world twisted.
"But you're not ready for me. Not yet."
She burst into tears again.
Fury, shame, desire crashing together.
Then he did something so obscene it stole her breath.
He raised his fingers, slick from her, and put them in his mouth.
Slowly.
A moan tore through her chest.
Then he leaned over her, dangerously close.
"You taste good, little strawberry."
And he slipped the same fingers into her mouth.
She bit him. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to challenge.
He smiled.
Finally pleased.
"You'll beg me to touch you again, little strawberry. And you will. Soon."
Words stuck in her throat. Her heart crashed against her ribs.
He untied her wrists. Lifted her in his arms like she weighed nothing.
She didn't resist. She was drained.
Exhausted. Worn thin by emotions she couldn't contain.
He carried her back to her room. But didn't leave.
He dragged a chair close to her bed.
Sat down.
"Sleep. I'm staying for a while."
She looked at him, shattered and confused.
"Why…?"
He tilted his head, those gray eyes both weary of her and starving for her.
"Because I do what I want. When I want.
And right now, I want to watch you sleep."
She let out a broken laugh.
"You humiliate me… and then you want to watch me sleep?"
"Get used to it, little strawberry. And remember: I never lie. This is me.
I'm a lion. But I can be a lamb, if I decide to."
She looked at him with wet eyes.
"Can you be a lamb… for one night?"
That hit him harder than any punch.
What she made him feel scared him more than anything.
He closed his eyes for one second.
Then reopened them.
"Only tonight."
He stretched his hand out on the bed, palm up.
An invitation. A danger.
Naiara inhaled shakily. Then placed her trembling hand on his.
He didn't close his fingers around hers.
Didn't grip her.
He simply let their palms touch.
She fell asleep like that: heart in pieces,
hand in his.
The Gray watched her for a long time.
And for the first time in his life, a thought rose inside him, raw, uncontrolled, dangerous.
"What the hell are you doing to me, little strawberry?"