Black Wings & Stolen Things: Chapter 8

EMERIC

They have no idea it’s me under this devil mask, and yet, the partygoers are still quick to get the hell out of my way as I prowl through the main floor of the club after my little deer. It’s as if something instinctive warns them that if they don’t step aside, they’re going to become my next bloody art project. All it’d take to make that happen is one nod at one of my men lurking amongst the crowd. Without fuss or fanfare, they’d have them detained in my concrete room and held there until I was feeling crafty.

In the strobe of a purple light, my eyes catch a glimpse of her feathered mask. Knowing I’m closing in on her, Rionach looks over one narrow shoulder at me, the same taunting smirk that sat on her pretty lips moments ago remains firmly in place, beckoning me to her.

She’s trouble and I like it.

The woman from the events and fundraisers isn’t here tonight. Gone is the placating smile and docile demeanor. The same Rionach that stood on the roof ledge is here and blazing with intoxicating boldness. How she’s able to keep this side of herself so tightly restrained, I’ll never understand. It must be akin to slowly killing a piece of herself.

I don’t make it five more steps in her direction before she’s ducking between groups of inebriated and euphoric people. They’re all chasing their own highs tonight, just as I am. While theirs is booze and thin lines of white powder in the bathrooms, mine is a little minx who doesn’t yet comprehend who she’s fucking with.

She thinks she can outsmart and outrun me, but I know this place better than anyone. I designed the fucking thing. Every nook and cranny, I know. There’s nowhere to hide, my love. She can run all she likes, but I’ll be getting my hands on that creamy skin soon enough.

Darting down one of the arched marble hallways, I cut her off just as she tries to skirt around the corner. She doesn’t realize that I’ve caught up to her until it’s too late. My hands wrap around her upper arms, and I whirl her around, slamming her spine into the marble wall.

I’ve tried every drug under the sun, I’ve tasted the most expensive liquors… all that pales in comparison to what it feels like to have Rionach Moran in my hands.

Her breath rushes out of her lungs from the harsh impact, and I’m so close to her I can feel the air dance across my lips. Big round green eyes with flecks of gold dancing around the pupils stare up at me in surprise. And as they do, the people and the heavy bass music melts away until all that’s left is her.

Spilled alcohol, stale cigarettes, and sweat usually permeate the air of the club, but all of that is gone. Rionach doesn’t wear sweet-smelling perfume like most women I’ve been around. She smells spicy and musky. Inhaling deep, I take in the tobacco, cinnamon, and citrus scent that clings to her skin. Yes… this is better than heroin.

“What now, princess?” I question, face close to hers so she can hear me over the obnoxious dance music. It takes all my willpower to not bury my face in her neck. “You all but begged me to chase you. I’ve caught you. You’re trapped until I say otherwise, so what do we do next?”

Her breasts heave within the confines of her tight black dress with each of her labored breaths. She might hide it well, but that brazen attitude of hers is always close to the surface. It flares in her eyes like green flames as she bites out, “I don’t beg.”

Unable to stop myself or ignore the need to touch more of her, my hand releases one of her arms. Starting just below the ear that has a handful of different studs and hoops in it, I trace my fingertip down her neck.

“They all say that, Rionach,” I tell her darkly. “Doesn’t quite matter the situation. One way or another, the people around me always end up begging. Some beg for their lives or the lives of their loved ones. They beg me to stop the pain while others beg me to keep touching them. Pain or pleasure, I’m capable of either, but in the end, they’re begging me for it. And you, my sweet siren, will be no different.” The way her pulse jumps against the tip of my finger has a smirk forming on my lips. “What part of that excites you more? The idea of pleasure or pain?”

There’s no fear in her eyes as she stares up at me. It’s a sight I haven’t seen in years. My actions and reputation have rightfully made people fearful of me, but not her. No, the only thing reflected in those big eyes is excitement and lust.

I bite back a groan as my cock continues to throb. She’s exquisite and all these fuckers have been blind to it. Their loss is about to become my gain.

Not backing down or shying away, she lifts her chin boldly. “I’m not really picky.” The next thing she says seals her fate. Whatever chance there was of me walking away from her tonight turns into ash at our feet. “Do your worst.”

The hand I was using to trace her heartbeat wraps around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make it obvious who’s in control here. Dipping my head lower so I can speak directly into her ear, I whisper, “You’re going to regret saying that.”

Breathing harder, her head shakes. “So far, I’m confident in my decision.”

I drag my nose down her cheek, inhaling another lungful of that scent I’m quickly becoming addicted to. “We’ll see.”

Without warning or preamble, I release her throat and take hold of her slender fingers in a vise-like grip. Her shorter legs have to take twice as many steps as I pull her down the corridor to the guard and keypad-protected door beside him. Very few people in New York are aware of what resides below Tartarus. Those who do know have paid a hefty sum to partake in the pleasures that dwell there.

One story down is where the true underworld is.

My man spots me headed his way and opens the doors before I need to ask. Swiftly, I drag her through to where the elevator made of glass waits for us. She doesn’t hesitate or ask questions, a move I can’t decide is brave or stupid. Recklessly fearless, this one.

Rionach stands steadfast and silent beside me, her fingers still entwined with mine. She doesn’t shake or tremble as we descend into the red illuminated abyss. It’s not until the doors open and she’s fully confronted with where we are does she make a sound.

A single, barely audible gasp.

Considering what she’s currently looking at, it’s impressive that’s all she lets slip.

Like the main floor, this level is also made of marble. Large, decorative chandeliers hang from the tall arched ceilings. The light bulbs in them are red, casting a red-and-pink hue on everything and everyone. Long white curtains drape down, creating alcoves for patrons to lounge in. A fully stocked bar takes up much of the left wall, bottles sitting on glass shelves that are twenty feet tall.

But the decor and architecture of the space aren’t what has Rionach gasping.

It’s the people wearing studded collars while their backs are being blown out on the leather chaise lounges, and the naked women with ball gags in their mouths dancing on raised platforms. It’s the Wall Street boys sitting at the bar, getting their cocks sucked while they drink old fashions. It’s the men and women moaning and writhing in ecstasy. Some of them still wear masks from the party upstairs, but with or without them, their anonymity will remain preserved regardless.

Nothing is off-limits here, and nobody is fucking shy.

“What is this place?” she whispers to me as we step out of the elevator and into the fog of corruption.

“Heaven,” is my only answer. If such a place truly existed, this would be mine. A room with no rules. Just pure, unadulterated debauchery.

Her head turns and I can feel her eyes on me as if she’s trying to figure me out. She must find her answer because after a minute, her attention returns to the illicit sights surrounding us. Without a word, she wanders away with an air of curiosity around her. Just this once, I allow her fingers to slip from mine as I follow behind her. Letting her go is something I don’t think will come easy for me in the future.

While she takes everything in, I watch her, waiting for the moment she decides this is all too much for her young soul to take. Twelve years longer than her I’ve been on this earth. There isn’t much I haven’t experienced, but for her, this is all brand new. I enjoy watching it through her eyes. It brings back a layer of excitement I’ve been missing for quite some time.

She comes to a stop in front of a wall made of glass. Behind it, a blonde woman sits in a swing with her legs spread wide, her pussy on full display to anyone passing by. A man kneels before her, devouring her like a fucking animal.

Rionach looks back at me, eyes wide behind her feathered mask. “Can they see us?”

My head nods. “That’s the point. They want people to watch them get fucked. It adds to their pleasure, and that is the very reason people come here. This is a place where they can give in to every desire and craving without shame or consequence.”

She asks nothing else, just turns back to watch the woman grind against the man’s face. While her attention is consumed by them, I fixate on the way Rionach’s fingers rhythmically trace along her plump bottom lip. My dick stirs at the thought of those very lips wrapping around it. Any other woman I would have taken by now, but something about her has me slowing down and taking a moment to just… take her in.

It’s been nearly a month and a half since I’ve been this close to her, and I’m making up for lost time. Time that is limited. The second we stepped foot off the elevator, our clock started. While I want nothing more than to take her home and keep her locked in my room until I’ve had my fill, we simply don’t have that luxury right now.

Her breath hitches and her teeth sink into the very lip I’ve been fantasizing about as the woman behind the glass comes with a dramatic scream. I know the man who’s on his knees for her, there’s no way in hell he actually made her make that sound.

In a move I wasn’t expecting, Rionach whirls to face me. “Is that why you brought me here? To simply give in to a craving you have?”

This has me chuckling. “Love, I could have given in to my craving at any time in the past month and a half. Your father’s men aren’t exactly what I’d call vigilant. That big oak tree outside your bedroom window would have been a breeze to climb up. I could have been in your bedroom and between your thighs before you could have so much as made one of those breathy gasps of yours.” My new favorite sound. Telling her about the tree outside her window lets her know just how closely I’ve kept my eye on her. I want her to know that it doesn’t matter where she is, she’s never too far out of my grasp. “Forty-one nights have passed since New Year’s Eve. I could have chosen any one of those nights and had you right then and there. Fuck, I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind.”

Something about my words has a spark igniting in her jade eyes. “What would you have done if I’d said no?”

I take a tendril of softly curled hair and rub the smooth strands between my fingertips. “Can you honestly tell me you would have said no?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Neither was yours.” I drop the piece of hair and let the honesty of my obsession drip from my lips. “I would have done it anyway. I would have stopped at nothing to taste you.”

Most women—women concerned for their safety—would have taken a confession like that and run straight to the closest police department, but Rionach doesn’t run. The only thing that moves are her pupils as they dilate.

Something resembling shame flashes across her face. “You shouldn’t say that kind of thing to me, and I…” Her words trail off and her teeth sink into her bottom lip.

My hand collars her throat, giving a slight squeeze when her gaze flicks away from me. “Eyes on me, love. And you, what?”

“And I shouldn’t like it.” Her confession is a barely audible rush of words, and beneath the edges of her feathered mask, her cheeks grow a delectable shade of pink. “I shouldn’t like how you make me… feel.”

“And how do I make you feel, princess.”

“Afraid.”

“You like being scared?”

With my hand still necklacing her throat, her nod is restricted.

I already put that together when I witnessed her little jaunt to the roof, but I like hearing her admit it. “Is it the adrenaline rush you like? Or is it the idea of giving yourself over completely to the fear.” My head dips and my lips skim the edge of her pierced ear. The lack of control, perhaps?”

The shame is back with her softly spoken, “Yes.”

“Don’t.” My order comes out like a whip’s crack. “Don’t you fucking dare. You get turned on by fear? Own it.” Hand tightening on her throat, I give her a little taste of what she’s craving. “Look around you. There isn’t a single person here ashamed of what they’re doing. That’s the beauty of this place. They’re simply taking their pleasure. So. Own. Yours.”

Her hand wraps around my wrist, but she doesn’t try to shove me away or interfere with the control I currently have on her ability to breathe. No, her thin fingers grasp my skin tighter, encouraging me.

I lean down once more to whisper in her ear, “You and I both know I can give you what you want. What your body fucking craves.”

Her entire body shivers as my tongue traces her jawline. When I pull back to look at her, her eyes are basically black. The jade green is only a sliver on the very edge of her irises. Her breath is now coming in ragged pants, but the shame is diminished.

I know the second she’s decided to play my game. The smirk from before graces her lips once more.

“I didn’t come here for a fucking tour, Emeric.” The raspy sound of my name on her tongue is sweet music to my ears. A noise so intoxicating it has my restraint all but snapping. “Get on with it, or go away so I can find someone who will.”

For a second, I think she’s testing me, seeing how far she can push me before I snap, but the wicked way she stares up at me is the only clue I need to know that isn’t actually the case. She wants me to snap. She wants me to lose control.

That’s my girl.

The look vanishes when my hold on her throat tightens to the point I’m cutting off her oxygen.

“You should know something about me, Rionach. I don’t allow people who steal from me to keep their hands. If you let someone else in this place touch you, I’m going to keep their hands as fucking trophies. I’ll display them on my fireplace mantel with pride,” I warn, not at all exaggerating. “So, I ask you, do you really feel like putting another person’s life in jeopardy like that?”

Of course she doesn’t answer. She physically can’t. She gasps for air, but I don’t let up. Instead, I make her walk backward toward the impressive structure in the middle of the room that resembles a birdcage. It’s at least fifteen feet tall, and the bars are unyielding, made of perfectly twisted iron. I’ve strung many willing victims up using these sturdy bars, leaving some of them there longer than I ought to. Once a guest is inside, they’re locked in until their captor says so.

And I’m always the captor.

Inside is a circular mattress with maroon silk sheets and various black pillows that are cleaned and changed out after each guest by the staff down here. I’m a heathen and a proud menace to society, but I refuse to fuck on sheets soaked in another man’s cum. The line has to be drawn somewhere.

My free hand fishes for the key I’d placed in my jacket pocket before leaving my office. I wasn’t sure we’d end up in the cage, but I was optimistic. With the door open, I waste no time twisting her around and pushing her inside. Falling to the mattress on her hands and knees, Rionach’s entire body heaves as she sucks in the precious air I’d deprived from her.

Everything with this woman has been a surprise, and it’s no different when she looks over her shoulder at me with a fucking smile splitting her stunning face.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

Her hand reaches for her mask, but I tsk before she can remove it from her face.

“Leave it,” I snap as I remove my black jacket and dark gray button-down. I don’t need one of the onlookers in here recognizing her and word getting back to her family. No, I want Niall Moran to find out I’ve marked and claimed his princess on my terms.

She watches me over her shoulder, and while she does, I wonder if the scars littering my skin are visible to her in this lighting. I didn’t build up my family’s empire like I have by making friends. No, I’ve made enemies, and my enemies like guns and knives. The blood I’ve willingly spilled has strengthened the foundation of my business. It’s a price I’m more than willing to pay to be on top.

Her skin is smooth and burning hot beneath my fingertips as I run them up her bare thighs. It’s not until her eyes flutter closed in soft serenity do I remind her who she’s currently locked up with. My hands dip beneath the hem of her dress and wrap around the elastic of her thin thong. With one harsh yank, the scrap of cotton shreds off her body.

She gasps, eyes flying open just in time to watch me deeply inhale the scent clinging to the fabric. The musky scent goes right to my cock, and it strains painfully against the confines of my pants.

Tucking them in my pocket for safekeeping, I tell her, “I would gag you with these, but I want the sounds I force out of you to drown out everyone and everything in this fucking place. Let them hear how good I make you feel.” Taking hold of the hem of her short black dress, I shove it up her body, exposing every stunning inch of her to me. “I want to know if you taste as good as you smell, princess.”

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