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“Well, you know I love the chase.” Tyrant gets out of bed and heads for the bathroom. He comes back a moment later with a wet washcloth, a tube of antiseptic, and a Band-Aid. “You hurt yourself when you took that tracker out of your neck, angel. Let me clean you up.”
I roll onto my belly and move my hair aside, letting Tyrant clean and bandage me up.
We’ve been through so much together in such a short time. I think of cutesy couples beaming at each other and saying things like,When it’s right, you just know. For us, it’s more like,When it’s so deliciously fucked up, you just know.
“You’d already asked me to stay, and I’d agreed, and you still put a tracker in me.”
“I knew you’d run. You were too sweet and innocent still, and I needed to be able to keep you safe until you were mine.”
“And now?” I murmur, my heavy eyelids closed as exhaustion washes over me.
He kisses my temple softly. “Sleep, angel. You’re so beautiful when you’re asleep, and I want to watch you.”
Only Tyrant could say something so creepy and make it sound like a love song.
I close my eyes, and drift off, warm and safe in his arms.
* * *
There’sa sensation of something being pushed onto my finger. I hear a spit and a groan, and something plush and blunt rubbing wetness around my pussy.
“Fuck, yes, angel,” someone says in a voice heavy with lust.
My eyes fly open with a gasp, and I grab hold of muscular shoulders. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen is thrusting his rock-hard cock into me. Splitting me open with a delicious burn. His tattoos are moving across his muscular chest and stomach with every drag and thrust of his cock. His eyes are heavy lidded and he’s gazing at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. My tangled hair. My blood-smeared body. Even my dozens of thin, shiny scars.
Is this a dream? Why am I having sex with Tyrant?
Before I can get my bearings, I’m distracted by the sight of something large and glistening on my ring finger, and the shock of it causes everything to come flooding back. I’m with Tyrant. I’m in his bed, and I’m pregnant.
“Tyrant! What’s on my finger?”
“We’re engaged.” He brushes my lips with his and keeps moving his hips in a steady, core-clenching rhythm.
I gaze up at him from beneath my lashes. “You’re supposed to be romantic and go down on one knee, not ambush me in the middle of the night. What if I say no?”
“With my cock this deep inside you, my baby in your belly, and with you trapped within my labyrinth? Just try it.”
The threat in his voice has my sex clenching even tighter on him.
He pulls out, turns me over onto my stomach, and thrusts into me again, the sharpness of this new angle making me cry out. “If you do try to run, I’ll find you and drag you back here.” He lifts something glinting from the bedside table and holds it in his hand.
It’s a hypodermic with a thick needle.
I gasp in shock and try to sit up “What are you—”
Tyrant captures my wrists in one hand and pins them behind my back, forcing me back down. “You’re going to be my wife, and my wife doesn’t have a choice. The ring is for everyone else to know you’re mine and for you to know you belong to me. This is for me. These are my wedding vows. Hold still.”
Tyrant pushes the needle beneath the skin in the back of my neck, an inch above the spot where he put the last one, and it blazes with pain. It hurts so much that I have no idea how I slept through it last time.
With the needle still in my neck, Tyrant pulls back with his hips and thrusts deeper into me, and he groans in pleasure. “You feel that?”
“Yes,” I whimper in response.
Tyrant grinds his cock into me and says in a heavy, lust-filled voice, “Yes, you fucking do.” He loves that I can feel the tracker being forced into my flesh.
He draws the needle out with a harsh breath of satisfaction, then puts it back on the bedside table. “If that tracker ever goes dark or you take it out, I will punish my wife until she begs for mercy. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Tyrant,” I moan, a heavy, pleasurable feeling flooding my body. Every inch of me belongs to him.
