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Dread trickles down my spine, mingled with a twisted sense of arousal. I wish I could make up my mind about him. What kind of man ties up his woman for so long? When we talked about bondage on the phone, it didn’t feel so lonely. I pictured him here in the room, giving me gentle guidance, maybe a little praise.
The man is a menace.
He kitted out my crawl space with a prison and real-life captives. Then he made me perform the interrogations. I knew he had villainous traits. I didn’t expect to see them up close. I wanted to be the object of his desire, not the Bonnie to his Clyde.
After witnessing how he tortured those men, my fear of him grew but so did this sick desire. I want to believe in the man I fell for, but he’s more complex than I expected.
I also had no idea my back was so flexible. In this position, my fingers can reach my feet. It’s easier to work on the ropes around my ankles first. There’s a series of loops I need to unravel, which takes more time than it did when Xero gave me easier restraints.
The knots are tight, with fibers digging into my skin, but I’m determined to keep trying. My fingers are losing sensation from the effort, but I twist them anyway and pick through the knots.Sweat trickles down my forehead, stinging my eyes, and I curse the day I found Xero’s mugshot.
I scrolled past multiple times, but he was all over social media. That hauntingly beautiful face of the man they called the Angel of Death. I would blame the voices in my head for urging me to write that first letter, but I’d only be blaming myself.
Xero Greaves filled a void in my life, and my obsession with him might cost me everything. The worst part of this is that if given another chance, I might do it all over again. He’s frightening enough to make my hair stand on end, yet my nerves tingle and the pulse between my legs throb.
Then there’s the side of him that’s caring. That’s the man who captured my heart. Whenever that aspect of his personality emerges, I feel hope for our relationship–even longing. He’s maddening, addictive, my worst nightmare and my most fervent dream.
I’m glad he’s alive–I want him so much, yet there’s a part of me that’s terrified I might not be able to return to what we had. I want that sensual man who brought out my sexuality on the phone. The sensitive soul who captured my heart with his penmanship. Those sweet memories feel like a distant dream, overshadowed by his true darkness.
My fingers trace the coarse strands of the rope, searching for a gap, a weak spot, anything I can use to my advantage. When that doesn’t work, I roll to the side and groan.
What I need is to dial back our relationship to the time before things went to shit. Before his vengeful ghost arc, and before forces collided to make him think I was a mercenary who used him for clout.
Better still, Xero could train me to use a gun. If I had been armed the other night, I could have shot the men at the front door instead of running out through the back door in a blind panic.
The sound of creeping footsteps breaks through my gasps and struggles, making me stiffen with alarm.
“Xero?” I whisper.
Whoever’s ascending my stairs doesn’t answer.
“Did you hear that, Xero?” I say in a louder voice, pretending he’s with me in case there’s an intruder.
Xero disappeared nearly two hours ago on an errand, telling me to break out of his hogtie or else. What if one of the rapists has found their way out of the basement and is looking for revenge?
My bedroom door creaks open, and my heart leaps into my throat. I twist around, my eyes widening.
It’s a dark-haired man with dull brown eyes, angular features, and a sharp grin. He wears a black suit with a black shirt unbuttoned to his breastbone, showcasing a bronze chest covered in black tattoos.
My heart slams against my chest, making my pulse skyrocket. Despite his obvious attractiveness, everything about him is off. He looks familiar, like someone whose face should grace the background of a real crime podcast or the FBI Most Wanted.
“Looking for this?” he asks, holding up a knife.
His voice is so achingly beloved that I’d recognize it in my dreams.
My breath shallows, and relief makes my muscles melt into the mattress. I blink the spots out of my eyes. “Xero?”
He leans against the doorframe, accentuating the lines of his incredible physique. Tall and muscular, with bulges in all the right places. It’s enough to make a woman groan.
“Like the disguise?” he asks.
I shift uncomfortably on the mattress. Seeing him like this is unsettling. It’s a harsh reminder of how much he’s changed from the man who haunts my dreams.
Shaking my head, I say, “No. Take it off.”
His gaze softens, and his lips curve with a smile. “How far do you want me to go?”
My breath shallows, and the muscles of my pussy spasms. The danger he exudes is intoxicating. I’m drawn to it, even though my common sense screams red alert. My instincts want me to run, but I’m addicted to the thrill.
