And I found that I liked that. I liked hearing her scream and beg as I hurt her and made her come. The violence crawling under my skin had found another outlet, and it was one I used every chance I got.
It wasn’t enough, of course. The rage dwelling deep within me couldn’t be pacified so easily. Maria’s death changed something inside me. She had been the only pure, beautiful thing in my life, and she was gone. Her death accomplished more than my father’s training ever could: it killed any remaining conscience I might’ve possessed. I was no longer a boy reluctantly following in my father’s footsteps; I was a predator who craved blood and vengeance. Ignoring my father’s orders to let the matter drop, I hunted down Maria’s killers one by one and made them pay, drinking in their screams of agony, their pleas for mercy and for quicker death.
After that, there were retaliations and counter-retaliations. People died. My father’s men. His rival’s men. The violence kept escalating until my father decided to pacify his associates by removing me from the business. I was sent away, to Europe and Asia . . . and there I found dozens more women like the one who had introduced me to sex. Beautiful, willing women whose proclivities mirrored my own. I gave them their dark fantasies, and they gave me momentary pleasure—an arrangement that suited my life perfectly, especially after I came back to take up the reins of my father’s organization.
It wasn’t until nineteen months ago, during a business trip to Chicago, that I found her.
Nora.
My Maria reincarnated.
The girl I intend to keep forever.
Chapter 2
Nora
Sitting there in Julian’s embrace, I feel the familiar hum of excitement mixed with trepidation. Our separation hasn’t changed him one bit. He’s still the same man who almost killed Jake, who didn’t hesitate to kidnap a girl he wanted.
He’s also the man who nearly died rescuing me.
Now that I know what happened to him, I can see the physical signs of his ordeal. He’s leaner than before, his tan skin stretched tightly over sharp cheekbones. There is a ragged pink scar on his left ear, and his dark hair is extra-short. On the left side of his skull, the growth pattern of that hair is a bit uneven, as though it’s concealing a scar there as well.
Despite those tiny imperfections, he’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I can’t tear my eyes away from him.
He’s alive. Julian is alive, and I’m with him again.
It still seems so surreal. Up until this morning, I thought he was dead. I was convinced he had died in the explosion. For four long, excruciating months, I had been forcing myself to be strong, to get on with my life and try to forget the man sitting next to me right now.
The man who stole my freedom.
The man I love.
Raising my left hand, I gently trace the outline of his lips with my index finger. He’s got the most incredible mouth I have ever seen—a mouth made for sin. At my touch, his beautiful lips part, and he catches the tip of my finger with his sharp white teeth, biting down on it lightly, then sucking my finger into his mouth.
A tremor of arousal runs through me as his warm, wet tongue laves my finger. My inner muscles clench, and I can feel my underwear getting damp. God, I’m so easy when it comes to him. One look, one touch, and I want him. My sex feels swollen and slightly sore after the way he fucked me earlier, but my body aches for him to take me again.
Julian is alive, and he’s taking me away again.
As that fact begins to sink in, I pull my finger away from his lips, a sudden chill feathering over my skin and cooling my desire. There’s no turning back now, no possibility of changing my mind. Julian is again in charge of my life, and this time I’d willingly flown into the spider’s web, placing myself at his mercy.
Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered if I had been unwilling, I remind myself. I remember the syringe in Julian’s pocket, and I know that the outcome would’ve been the same regardless. Conscious or sedated, I would’ve been accompanying him today. For some messed-up reason, that fact makes me feel better, and I place my head back on Julian’s shoulder, letting myself relax against him.
It’s futile to fight against one’s destiny, and I’m starting to accept that fact.
* * *
With traffic, our ride to the airport takes a little over an hour. To my surprise, we don’t go to O’Hare. Instead we end up at a small airstrip where a sizable plane awaits our arrival. I can make out the letters ‘G650’ on its tail.
“Is that yours?” I ask as Julian opens the car door for me.
“Yes.” He doesn’t look at me or elaborate further. Instead his gaze appears to be scanning our surroundings, as though looking for hidden threats. There is an alertness to his manner that I don’t remember seeing before, and for the first time, I realize that the island was his sanctuary as well, a place where he could truly relax and let down his guard.