Princessa pov
He called to the darkest perversions inside of me, taking and claiming them as his. He knew the hints of my desires, the secrets I wanted to hide from everyone. There was no one, aside from Rafael, who knew even the barest concept that they existed, and he would use them to his advantage.
Even the knowledge that he'd touched me while I slept, that he'd painted my skin with his cum, didn't horrify me in the way it should have. The darkest part of me liked that he'd marked me in such a primal way. If it had been anyone else, I'd have been too traumatized to function. But with Rafael, it somehow just made sense.
"I don't think that's what you want," Rafael said with a chuckle as his breath touched my cheek. His voice was a soft murmur, a tone that should have been sweet. Instead, all it did was promise to corrupt me with his evil. To taint me and make me his.
He wrapped his free hand around, sliding it between the mattress and my body to touch my lower belly. I jolted in his grip, struggling to get away from the touch that I knew would become invading if I didn't get away. A tear fell free, making a lone path down my face that he leaned forward and licked off my cheek. "Please don't do this," I begged, trying to shake my head no.
He ignored the plea and slid his hand further down my belly. Over the line where my underwear should have been if he hadn't stripped me naked while I slept. Over the very center of my womanhood, until he slid a finger between my lips and bumped it against my clit. With my legs spread around his hips, he moved through me smoothly until his finger brushed up against my entrance.
"I don't think my pussy wants me to stop, Princesa,"
he murmured, gliding his finger inside of me. Like the traitorous thing it was, he met no resistance as he pressed all the way inside me. Not even as he added a second finger, pumping them in and out of me slowly because of the restriction of my weight on top of his hand.
"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me," he said.
"If you can do that without lying, I'll give you clothes."
The arrogance in his voice infuriated me to no end, driving me mad with the need to prove him wrong. Glaring at him from the one eye where I could see him, I forced my lips to form the words. As he leaned further into my space, his lips touched the corner of my mouth, feeling mine move as I spoke.
"I don't want you,"
I spat. "Not like this."
"Hmm," he hummed
. "That tasted like a lie. I am think you don't want to want me, but you damn well know that you're mine, regardless."
"I hate you," I hissed, jerking my head back from his as he shoved a third finger inside me and pumped them furiously.
"That one was true,"
he chuckled. "Such a shame that I do not fucking care. I gave you the chance to love me. I'll take your hate instead." Pulling his fingers out, he shifted his weight behind me as he shoved the shorts down his thighs, tightening his grip on my hair as I struggled beneath him. "Last chance to convince me, Isa."
"Fuck you! You'll just take what you want no matter what I say," I said, snarling at him as he leaned forward and bit my bottom lips
"My world, my rules," he chuckled, sliding his cock between my folds as I squirmed beneath him. The worst torment of it was how good it felt, how much Rafael made me want him.
It made no sense, but it was true, no matter what
I tried to tell myself. I had to force down the moan that threatened to climb up my throat, trying to tear itself free from my deepest shame. "I don't want to be in your
world!"
"Well, that's just too fucking bad, because you are never leaving it, Princesa." He growled the words, notching himself and thrusting inside me with one smooth glide that struck against the end of me so harshly I jolted forward on the bed. His hand still held my hair, pulling me back as he withdrew and pulling tighter so I couldn't move with the next punishing thrust of him inside me.
"You will never leave me again, do you fucking understand me, Isa?" he asked, holding me still as I struggled to get a grip on the sheets.
I felt desperate with the need to claw something to deal with the mix of pain and pleasure threatening to tear me in two. I couldn't handle the dichotomy of sensations, the turmoil of my emotions exploding inside me.
I wanted him. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to watch him bleed out, and he brought out that worst part of me.
The forbidden desires and the violent impulses. The rages that I'd shoved down deep so I wouldn't become like Odina.
He pounded himself into me with aggressive strokes, claiming the deepest part of me for himself as if he could fuck through me. His own anger was potent in the air, matching my own as he took it out on my body. He withdrew as suddenly as he'd entered me, grabbing a leg in his grip and turning me to my back. His hand came down on my throat, a solid weight as he pressed me into the bed and shoved back inside me violently.
His beautiful face was twisted with malice, the pure hatred he felt for me now written in every line of his expression. I wanted to be free of him and wanted to comfort him all at once.
I wanted to tell him that it had broken something inside of me to walk away, but I'd done it because he'd left me no choice. I couldn't abandon my life back home for a murderer.
His grip tightened as he lifted my ass off the mattress with his other hand, resting it on his thighs so he could get deeper.
I couldn't hold back the moan that caught in my throat. With my ass higher than my head, blood slowly trickled into my skull past the hand he pressed against the front of my throat. My breathing was restricted as he leaned forward and bent his body over mine.
His lips touched mine in the first kiss he'd given me since I'd woken up, the gentleness of it feeling like a mockery of everything I'd thought we shared before I'd fled in the night. I cried, tears building in my eyes as I held his gaze.
As I realized that everything I'd loved had been destroyed by our choices. Gone and replaced by nothing but a simmering rage that pulsed between us, threatening to burn us both alive.
He kissed the spot where my tear fell, sighing when I lifted a hand to touch his face gently. He leaned into the touch, seeming to crave the affection we were missing as much as I was.
"I will fucking kill you the next time you try to leave me. Do you understand me?" he asked, making my eyes go round as I stared up at him.
"There is no place on this Earth that you can hide from me, Princesa. Eres mia." My bottom lip trembled as my hand fell away, and I stared up at him in shock. He'd terrified me, but some part of me clung to the hope that he would never truly hurt me,that he loved me, beneath all the dark edges of his soul.
"I understand," I whispered as his grip eased up slightly on my throat, still pinning me in place but almost with the gentle caress of a lover. His thrusts inside me still jolted my body on the bed. He still fucked me like he wanted to live inside me.
As if he thought the way to reconnect with me was through sex, when sex had never been our problem. Our problem was that our lives were shrouded in mystery, in secrets that kept us separate and meant we could never truly know each other. He might have been ready to lower his walls and reveal the truth to me, but I would never be ready to tell him my sins.
I'd take them to my grave, whether it was Rafael Ibarra who put me there or something else.
He reached down to stroke my clit as he fucked me, the wet sounds of our coupling echoing through the room proof of the fact that I might have been more turned on by his violence than I'd ever been when he was gentle with me.
The conflict I felt over that wasn't enough to force down the orgasm building in me, not even when his thrusts lost their rhythm and he approached his own climax. I whimpered my release, clenching around him as I came and digging my nails into the side of his arm where I grabbed him. He groaned, following me over the edge as he thrust into me a few more times and then stilled, dropping his weight on top of me as I fought to catch my breath.
The reality of what we'd done, of what I'd let him do, came crashing over me as I fought for breath, but I tried to push it away. It was done. I couldn't change it, and all I could do was try to find a way to make Rafael understand why I couldn't stay. He shifted his weight back to his knees as he pulled out of me, and I stared down at him in horror as I clenched my eyes closed.
I huffed out an irritated breath, opening my eyes to stare at him in disbelief. I supposed protecting us against pregnancy when he was pissed off was too much to ask. I sat up, trying to ignore the liquid that leaked free when I went more vertical. "I need another morning-after pill," I said.
His cold stare held mine for a moment before it fell to the space between my legs. He touched a finger to my entrance, coating it in his release before he shoved it back inside me.
"No," he said, wiping the moisture on his finger on my thigh before standing from the bed. I gaped after him, scrambling to stand up and wobbling on fuzzy legs. Whether it was from the drugs or the sex, I didn't think I'd ever know.
I certainly didn't want to have a repeat of being drugged ever again just to find out. "What do you mean no?" I asked as he reached out a hand to steady me.
He sat me back down on the bed, trying to force me to lay down. "You need to rest," he said, but there was no warmth to the statement. No concern for me, just a dismissal.
"What do you mean no?!" I repeated, my voice going shrill as he glared at me.
"There will be no more morning-after pills, and there will be no condoms between us," he said as he grabbed his shorts off the floor and pulled them up his legs.
"Am I going to be on birth control?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper. He couldn't honestly mean to make that kind of decision for me.
Could he?
"No."
"You can't just decide that for me!" I yelled, watching in horror as he made his way for the bedroom door.
"Watch me," he growled, tugging it open and then disappearing through it. The lock latched from the outside, trapping me in the bedroom alone as I stared after him and wrapped my hands around my stomach in anguish. He could not be serious.
ISA stared at the door after it closed, my entire frame flinching with the sound of the lock as it echoed through the cavernous room. Glancing around the empty space, I jolted into action when I realized he really intended to leave me locked in the bedroom.
My legs got tangled in the bedding as I fought to get to the door, sending me sprawling to the floor with a pained grunt as my scraped knees crashed against the hardwood.
"Rafe!" I yelled, forcing myself to my feet in a hurry. His steps receded away from the bedroom door despite my call, ignoring me as my fists pounded against the wood.
"Rafael!" I screamed, hitting it with all my might as I tried to turn the knob. My back pressed against the door as I spun, looking around the room for something that I could potentially use to pick the lock.
There was no sign of anything small enough, even if that had been a skill I possessed. I gasped for breath as his release tickled against my flesh, sending me racing for the bathroom to scrub him off me.
Pregnancy wasn't something that was at the front of my mind. It wasn't something I'd ever really considered possible for me, since I'd spent so much of my life catering to Odina. Our lives were a mess financially, and I'd seen far too many girls I went to school with deal with an unplanned pregnancy and the vicious cycle it created for keeping them in poverty.
I used the bathroom, moving to the sink to wash my hands and use the water there to scrub myself clean. My hand brushed against a sore spot on my inner thigh, drawing my gaze down to it as I spread my legs and stared at it in confusion.
The bite mark was red, the early bruising in the distinctive shape of Rafael's perfect teeth marking my flesh clearly and leaving little doubt to what he'd done to me while I slept.
I heaved an angry sigh, turning my gaze up to the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, making me halt my motions as I studied the mess of hair around my face. The light hint of a bruise showed on the side of my neck, the injection site of his drugs a light purple to contrast the tan of my skin.
I swallowed, turning my gaze back to my face as I gripped the edge of the counter in both hands.
If I wasn't the poor girl from Chicago who had to help her family, who would I be? Would I be a mother? A wife one day? I hated that when I tried to imagine the picture, the only face at the front of my mind was Rafael's.
I leaned forward, hanging my head momentarily as I tried to force the image away. I couldn't marry the man who'd kidnapped me off the streets.
That was the pinnacle of fucked up. The definition of all the darkness I'd barely escaped as a girl, and the opposite of the responsible thing to do. I touched a hand to my stomach, running my fingers over the flat surface as I bit my lip and willed myself to focus on what mattered in the moment.
Getting away was the only thing that mattered. Escaping was all that I could focus on.
I pushed away from the bathroom counter, striding back into the bedroom and searching for the closet door on the opposite end of the room. I needed clothes if I wanted to attempt an escape.
I slid the barn style door to the side, stepping into the closet and staring around in dismay. One side was filled with Rafael's suits, his clothes as meticulously kept as they'd been when I snooped in his hotel room.
It felt like a lifetime ago that the prospect of him being married had been the worst of my concerns.
My eyes drifted to the brightly colored clothes on the other side, to the feminine lines of designer dresses and skirts. To the jeans and tops and shoes. All were in colors similar to what I wore regularly; all were the same kind of styles and cuts I preferred, if not just slightly more provocative.
But the fabrics flowed over my skin as I touched them, the luxurious quality of wealth I'd never thought I'd know feeling so dramatically different than all the cheap clothes I'd been comfortable in.
I forced down the questions rising, wondering if the clothing had been intended for me or if it belonged to someone else. Grabbing a pair of shorts off one of the shelves, I tugged the elastic waisted bottoms up my legs and found a tag hanging from my side. I tore it off ruthlessly, dropping it to the floor and studying the rest of the clothes. All still had tags, and that at least reassured me that I wasn't putting on another woman's belongings.
Even if it begged the question of how he knew my personal style so well to purchase it all in such a short time frame. The amount of clothing here was far greater than anything my sister and I had owned combined, and wouldn't have been a quick process to accumulate.
I tugged a bra on and then a cotton shirt over to cover my chest. Whatever the reasoning, whatever the time frame, he was clearly deranged.
It was as if he truly believed we'd live some happily ever after despite the man he was and the things he'd done to me. My anger rose once again with his clear dismissal of my will to escape him. The windows at the back of the room led to a private terrace and infinity pool, with walls to either side of the space. I wasn't hopeful that I would be able to escape through there, but the rage boiling in my blood compelled me to fucking try anyway.
The asshole deserved to have a floor to ceiling window that needed replacing after what he'd done to me. I grabbed one of the small end tables next to the little breakfast nook, hefting it up despite the way my arm muscles protested the action and my hands throbbed with the feel of something in their grip. Swinging it back with all my might, I threw it at the window.
It bounced off the glass, sending me reeling back with a startled shriek to avoid getting hit. My lungs heaved as I stared at it, irritated with myself for not foreseeing the possibility.
I moved back toward the bed slowly, glancing around as I looked for a weapon. I might not be able to pick a lock or break a window, but I could damn well hit him in the face when he stepped into the room, and run. I'd been afraid to run from him before because being chased would mean awakening the darkest part of my soul.
The unfortunate reality was that he'd made flight an inevitability when he'd drugged me. He'd taken away my choice, and I'd do anything to get it back. I didn't want to think of what I'd be capable of doing in order to get home to my grandmother and my parents.
I ignored the voice in my head that questioned my ability to hurt him. I shoved down the part of me that didn't want to and still clung to the foolish hope that maybe all of this came from some twisted place of love. Because there was no doubt in my mind that I loved Rafe. That the man I'd known had been everything to me in a way that terrified me, but the phantom that threatened me now wasn't him.
I just wanted the man, not the monster.
I stood on the bed, grabbing one of the lantern-style lamps that hung beside it. Hefting it in my hands as I stepped down to the floor, I glanced toward the door.
Then I moved into position behind it and waited for the moment it would open, and I'd find out if I was capable of hurting Rafael to be free.
Rafael POV
isa screamed my name in the room behind me as I made my way through the house to approach the kitchen. Regina stood behind the island, preparing ensaimada in a misguided attempt to soothe my anger.
If the fact that my cock was still wet with Isa's orgasm wasn't enough to soothe my anger, then Regina stood no chance of doing anything to quell the nightmare within me.The one that begged for release, that needed violence and penance for the failure that had resulted in all my carefully laid plans being decimated.
There was one man who deserved my wrath, but since he'd tucked himself safely away in Russia after our altercation in Ibiza, he was unfortunately out of my reach for the moment.
"No one goes near that bedroom," I ordered Regina. She gave me her best innocent eyes, deception hiding in her dark gaze. I knew her well enough to know she'd go to Isa and give her food and comfort if I didn't lay down the rules quickly and harshly.
Isa would have no comfort but me. She wouldn't take solace in anyone that I didn't give to her. Everything she had now was an extension of me, each person in her life a bond I allowed her to have.
She was mine, and until the day came when I felt less inclined to keep her locked away in my bedroom with no one to speak to but me, I would be her entire world. I hoped for both our sakes that my rage would quieten to a less all-consuming irritation quickly, because I couldn't think of anything but the stabbing reality of her betrayal.
Of what it would mean for her and the penance she would need to pay.
"I understand," Regina said.
"I mean it," I ordered. "Anyone who disobeys me on this will find themselves no longer welcome in my home."
Regina swallowed, nodding solemnly as she turned and left the kitchen without another word. The casual dismissal of everything she thought we meant to each other never sat well with her, but she didn't understand the depths of my obsession just yet.
There was nothing I wouldn't sacrifice to have Isa.
Nothing I wouldn't give to make her feel the same pain she'd caused me, even if I already regretted the wounds she'd suffered at my hands.
The scrapes to her knees and palms were extensive, an unintended consequence of the terror that had been necessary.
I didn't regret scaring her, not when her fear had tasted so addictive the moment I'd caught her in my arms. But I regretted the fact that her flawless skin had been marked, all the while loving the sight of my mark on her.
Loving the knowledge that she may bear the scars of her mistake for the rest of her life. I had a feeling they were only the first of many, as penance had to be paid. Fleeing through the streets of Ibiza Town was only the beginning for mi princesa.
The worst had yet to come.
"Perhaps it would be good for Isa to see a kind face. I can't imagine she was very happy to see you," Joaquin said as he stepped in at the back of the kitchen. I moved to the bar against the wall next to the dining table, pouring myself a drink despite the fact that it was the middle of the day. I'd been so anxious for Isa to wake up that I'd never gone to sleep.
Now with her wide awake and no doubt raging in my room, I knew bed was a long way off. Sleep beckoned to me, and the part of me that was nothing but a man who craved his woman wanted to curl up with her in my arms and forgive her for the choice she'd made.
The other part of me wanted to make her hurt, wanted to break her and make her into the woman I knew she could become if given the chance, but she'd have to let me do that.
No matter what I said, no matter what I did to Isa, I would never push her past her limits. I'd never take what wasn't mine to take, and if she'd been able to tell me in all honesty that she didn't want me?
I wouldn't have taken her. I wouldn't have forced the issue, but I knew without a doubt that Isa still wanted me.
Her panic after sex hadn't been for the fact that we'd fucked in the first place. But purely for the potential of a pregnancy. That alone told me everything I needed to know about her mental state. She'd fight me. She'd rail against me, but in the end, she'd understand that she was exactly who she was always meant to be Mine.
"She didn't seem too opposed to me," I said, tossing back my drink with barely a glance in his direction. His brothers followed him into the kitchen, Alejandro trailing at his heels as they waited for instructions.
"She needs time to adjust. The three of you need to stay away from the house for a few days until she's ready to know the truth."
"Don't you think it's better to just rip off the bandage now? Get it all out in the open so she can come to terms with it all at once?" Alejandro asked, stepping toward the kitchen. I met him at the island, grabbing one of Regina's knives in my hand and twirling it thoughtfully.
"I think she's stronger than you can imagine, and she's holding up under the pressure of everything I've thrown at her so far, but there's only so much she can take. Knowing that one of her best friends betrayed her and the entire friendship was a ruse will push her over that edge," I explained.
"She needs to be more stable in her understanding of what she and I are before we throw that at her."
"He's right," Hugo agreed.
"She can take a lot from strangers. She always expects people to disappoint her, so when they do, it's just another day for her. No matter what he wants to think, Rafael is a virtual stranger to her. She's spent a week with him, and that's a drop in the bucket for Isa.
To know that she never knew him, she can recover from that, but our betrayal will trip her up more," he said as he looked at Gabriel and Joaquin. "She trusted us in a way she's never had the opportunity to trust him." My fists clenched at my sides, the truth to his words unsettling the part of me that wanted blood.
Nobody should have been capable of hurting Isa more than me. I should have been her entire world. Joaquin nodded his agreement, ushering his brothers out of the house as he gave me a meaningful stare.
"Don't fucking hurt her," he warned. "She deserves better than that, and what you expected of her was never a fair demand. She was always going to disappoint you."
Alejandro nodded his agreement as Joaquin disappeared out the side door after his brothers, leaving us in silence.
"Maybe that's true," I agreed, pursing my lips thoughtfully as I stretched out a hand to grasp Alejandro's wrist in my grip. He swallowed, but didn't fight the contact as I touched the tip of the knife to the edge of his palm and sank it in a line to carve through his flesh.
"But your failure to handle Pavel certainly didn't improve our chances." He swallowed, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to force the pain down. I cut into his left hand with deep crisscrossing slices that left his hand a bloody, tattered mess
. "I know." He held my stare the entire time, knowing that while the penance might have taken a different form, this was the punishment he'd earned no less.
"if it weren't for you, Isa wouldn't be in my bed with bloody knees and torn palms. She'd be exploring Atlantis with me, still in Ibiza. Still falling in love with me and completely unaware of the truth. Because of your failure, she bled," I growled, dropping the knife to the counter when I'd finished with his hand. I left his right unscathed as a kindness, knowing that it would make it easier for him to function as my second if he had at least one working hand.
"I admit that my handling of Pavel caused problems, and I accept my penance willingly," Alejandro said, his voice dropping low as he ended the statement. He always trailed off as he considered the best way to phrase messages he knew I wouldn't want to hear, but he was my second because he always said it despite his fear.
He was honest, regardless of the consequences for himself.
"I think you need to consider the possibility that Isa was never going to choose to stay in Ibiza. Her life in Chicago holds some sway over her that she can't seem to let go of, no matter how she feels for you. If that's the case, she might not ever be yours in the way you want. What will you do if that's true?"
"I don't know," I admitted, taking his gun from the holster at the side of his pants. Touching my finger to the trigger, I aimed it at his knee as he flinchfed but didn't try to move away from my aim.
"But saw now, if she bleeds, so do you."
He groaned when I fired the gun and caught him in the thigh just above the knee. Another kindness, at least in my world, to not have to suffer through the recovery of a shattered kneecap.
The bang reverberated through the space, a sound that the walls of my home were all too familiar with. It wasn't uncommon for me to shoot people, though I tried to keep that kind of activity out of the house for Regina's sake.
Summoned by the noise, she hurried into the kitchen and ranted at me. "Mi hijo!" she yelled. "Now I have to throw out the ensaimada dough and disinfect the counter.
You couldn't have taken your games outside?" She tutted, stepping around the counter to clean as Isa's scream echoed from the bedroom.
I dropped the gun to the counter, racing for the bedroom faster than I thought my bare feet could carry me. Regina followed at my heels, knowing there had been something different in that scream.
That one had been a scream of pain, of pure terror, and not one of frustration.