You Are Mine (24 page)

Zac inside you …

She had to stop lying to herself even if it terrified her. She wanted this. She wanted him. She had to trust him, otherwise what else was there for her?

Scared, broken little girl.

“I don't want you to go,” she said thickly.

His expression didn't change. “The words, Eva. Give me the words.”

She swallowed again, her throat dry. “I'll give myself to you. Body and soul, I'm yours.”

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

Eva didn't speak as he led her back through the museum and out into the teeming New York lunchtime crowds, her hand resting on his arm, unresisting.

He let her have the silence, granting her a bit of distance because soon enough she wouldn't have any.

A savage, possessive feeling had him in its grip, along with an anger that simmered under his skin like a fire not quite dead.

He'd stood in among the crowd not too far away from her, watching the panic creep into her eyes as she'd noticed he wasn't right next to her anymore. As she'd started searching the crowd blindly, turning in a tight little circle. A wild creature trapped in a net.

She'd gone white, terror stark in her face. And even though he'd only been a couple of feet away from her, she hadn't seen him. She'd been blind.

She really thought he'd gone, that he'd left her there all alone, her panic blatant evidence of her lack of trust in him.

He hadn't counted on just how angry it would make him.

It had been cruel to do that to her, but her denial was so extreme, he hadn't seen any other way except to confront her with it. A lesson for both of them in many ways.

He glanced at her as they moved toward where Temple had parked the limo. Eva's gaze was directly ahead, on the car. Not looking right or left, her shoulders hunched.

He didn't feel a shred of regret for the ultimatum he'd given her, not after she'd proved so blatantly how little she trusted him. But he had gotten her admission of fear. And she had agreed in the end to come with him.

It wasn't, however, exactly what he'd wanted.

Zac followed Eva into the limo and this time, instead of sitting opposite her, he sat directly beside her. She turned her head away, looking out the window.

He waited until Temple had gotten in and started the car, pulling away from the curb. Then he leaned forward and pushed the button that activated the privacy screen, before turning to the woman sitting next to him. Taking her delicate, stubborn little chin in his fingers, he pulled her around to face him.

Her skin was so soft he couldn't help but caress the line of her jaw with his thumb, watching as her eyes widened, a small silver flame leaping high in the gray depths.

Yes, that's what he wanted. Not fear but something hotter. Something more demanding. Desire.

She didn't pull away, only stared at him.

“Do you understand what I'm asking for?” He wanted to be sure because once they started down this road, there was no going back.

“Whips and chains and shit, right?”

Perhaps it was time to challenge her a little bit more. He'd already tested her boundaries back in the museum, now he needed to keep up the pressure.

This was not about keeping her comfortable.

This was about moving from the frying pan into the fucking furnace.

“Whips and chains,” he echoed softly, in a voice that many a sub would have recognized as the calm before the storm. “Is that what you think BDSM is all about?”

Maybe she sensed he was about to do something, because her eyes widened, her mouth opening as if to forestall him.

Too late, angel.

Zac moved, leaning forward, crowding her back against the car seat, shifting his hands so one rested on the seat beside her head, the other on the door.

He saw it again, that spark. Not fear, though fear was there. No, this was far hotter, wilder. She liked what he was doing. Liked it whether she knew it herself or not.

Her breathing was coming faster now, her gaze fixed to his. She didn't move, not to push him away or to get away herself. The pulse at the base of her throat was quick, her body rigid with tension.

“Have you ever been to a BDSM club?” he asked, deceptively mild. “Do you actually have any idea what you're talking about?”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Sure I do. You put women on their knees, tell them what to do. Order them around. You—”

He bent his head, nipped her bottom lip. Not hard, but enough to remind her of who she was dealing with. The soft, sharp catch of her breath was the best thing he'd heard all day.

“You want to know who has the most power during a BDSM scene?” He brushed her bottom lip with his mouth, not a kiss, only the lightest of touches, feeling the shudder that went through her. “The sub. Everything a Dom does is for them and their pleasure. The sub's pleasure is the Dom's, angel. And if the sub isn't enjoying it, then neither does the Dom.” Zac lifted his head, stared into her wide eyes. “And if whips and chains is what the sub wants, then that's what the sub will get.”

Two bright spots of color burned on her pale cheeks. “I'm not a fucking sub.”

“You don't know what you are. You've never let yourself think about it.”

“I don't want whips and chains. And I'm not having you order me around. No one gets to control me, not ever again.” Defiance sparked in her eyes.

Fuck, did she know what she was doing? How irresistible a challenge that was for him?

Zac leaned in, their noses just about touching, her gaze inches from his. Letting the veil of the gentleman drop, showing her who he was. “I've been compromising what I want for seven years. That ends now. I will fucking own you, angel. And you
will
do everything I tell you. Every. Single. Thing.”

Her breathing was short, hard, and she was struggling to hold his gaze.

He shifted, lifting his hand to pull her beanie off her head, tossing it down on the floor of the car. Then he reached behind her head, tugging out the tie that held her ponytail, white blonde hair falling down around her shoulders like soft, warm snow.

Her mouth opened. Then clamped shut.

Indulging himself, Zac buried his fingers in her hair, tilting her head back so she had to look up at him. So he filled her vision. Her gaze falling helplessly to his mouth then back up again.

A long silence fell, broken only by the sound of the traffic outside. The engines of cars and buses, horns and sirens. The loud purr of a motorcycle.

And the harsh sound of her breathing.

There were so many emotions in her silver eyes. So many he couldn't untangle them all. Fear. Desire. Anger. Hope. Yearning.

She smelled good too, vanilla and Eva, and she was warm. He wanted her. Bloody, fucking hell, how badly he wanted her.

“You have questions,” he said, looking down into her face. “Ask.”

“What will you do?” Her voice was unsteady.

He shifted his fingers in her hair, the strands silky against his skin. “To you? Anything I fucking want.”

“I don't want to be owned, Zac. I don't want to be h-helpless. Not again.”

The slight stutter made something in his chest, something he'd thought long dead, tighten strangely. Of course she wouldn't. But then, she didn't understand that this would be different.

“This is where trust comes into it,” he said. “You have to trust me. That's how it works. You'll have to trust me to know what you want and what you don't. And when to push even when you don't want me to.”

“And how will you know that? Your amazing psychic Dom powers or something?”

Zac curled his fingers tighter in her hair, tugging hard on it, making her eyes widen and something bright spark in the gray depths. Ah. So she liked that too.

“I've spent seven years watching you, Eva King. I know everything about you. Your fears and your joys. What makes you uncomfortable and what gives you pleasure. What hurts you and what moves you.” He pulled harder on her hair, tipping her head back further, exposing the long, elegant white arc of her throat, making her shudder. “And I know what arouses you, and why that makes you scared.”

“Great,” she said hoarsely, the word edged with fragile sarcasm even now. “Sounds fucking wonderful. For you, I mean. But what the hell do I get out of all of this?”

He smiled, slow and hungry, lowering his head so their mouths were almost but not quite touching. “Freedom, angel. Freedom from the past. From the future. From the fear and the anger, from the pain and the sadness. Give all those things to me and I'll take them away from you. And I'll give you pleasure to take their place.”

She went still, staring up at him, her pupils wide and dilated. And he could see the yearning there, bright in her eyes. “I don't want to be afraid, Zac,” she said suddenly, hoarsely. “I'm so tired of it. I don't want to be so fucking afraid anymore.”

“Then you won't,” he replied, and gently unwound his fingers from her hair, releasing her. Straightening in his seat, he pushed the intercom button. “My house, Temple,” he said shortly. “Now.”

*   *   *

Eva paced up and down in Zac's high-ceilinged hallway, her hands in the pockets of her jacket so she didn't have to see them shaking.

The minute they'd arrived, Zac had told her to wait, apparently so he could get things “ready.” She didn't know what he meant by that and didn't really want to find out, though she supposed it was too late now.

She was going to do this.

Her body hummed, every sense alert. She could still feel the spot on her lip where he'd nipped her and the faint pain in her scalp from where he'd pulled her hair. She could still feel the heat of his body against hers.

She ached. This must be want, this must be desire.

Eva reached the front door, turned on her heel and walked back down the hallway once again, her footsteps soundless on the thick Middle Eastern runner that ran the length of the polished wood floor.

The walls were dark blue, with pictures in gold frames positioned at intervals. A dark wood console table with a few knickknacks on it stood near the door. The clock, also standing on it, ticked.

I will fucking own you, angel. And you
will
do everything I tell you. Every. Single. Thing.

Her fists curled in her pockets, palms sweaty.

She couldn't lie to herself, pretend it was only sex and no big deal, because what Zac wanted from her
was
a big deal. She'd be giving herself to him. She'd be letting him have power over her, and that was downright fucking terrifying.

Freedom, angel. Freedom from the past.

Impossible to go on like she was, she saw that now. After her breakdown in the museum, she could see where she was headed. To a life spent trapped in her apartment, imprisoned by her own fear.

No, she wasn't doing that. She refused. He'd promised to take away the burden of the past. Take away the fear and the pain, and she wanted to give him those things.

She didn't want to be that broken, scared little girl he'd seen in the museum. She wanted new memories.

Halfway down the hallway, in mid-pace, her phone chimed.

Eva pulled it out and looked down at the screen. A text from Alex.
We need to know what you're going to do. If you need to talk, I'm here.

Of course it would be from Alex. He knew better than anyone else the demons she'd be facing.

Quickly she typed in a response.
Don't worry, I'll be there. And I don't need to talk.

As Zac had so eloquently pointed out, talking was not what she needed.

“What are you doing, angel?”

The dark, seductive sound of his voice was a shock after the silence in the hallway and her overstretched nerves shivered at the sound, her hands shaking as she stuffed her phone back into her pocket. “Alex wanted to know what I was going to do. I told him.” She didn't want to look at him, because she really wasn't ready yet. But she forced herself.

Zac was standing at the end of the hallway, silent and still. His suit was so perfect, not a crease in it, his tie straight as an arrow. Like a wealthy stockbroker on his way to the office.

But that was his disguise, as she well knew. And quite frankly it was a shit disguise because stockbrokers generally weren't built like gladiators, nor did they have eyes that burned right into people's souls. They didn't project authority like a king holding court or the brutal charisma of an ancient god, the kind that made a person want to get down on their knees and worship them.

“Good.” He lifted a hand toward the library door. “In here.”

She made herself walk down the hall a few feet until she reached the door he'd indicated.

The expression on his face made her want to look away because the hunger in it was too stark. Too blatant. The intensity of his focus turned on her was … overwhelming. But then everything about him was, and how she'd gone for so long without ever noticing, she had no idea.

He reached for the door handle. “Once you cross this threshold Eva, you're mine. Inside that room, my word is law and you will obey it without question. Do you remember your safeword?”

The absolute authority in the words made her shiver. Made something inside her tighten and yet relax at the same time. “Yes.”

“Say it now.”

It was all she could do not to stutter. “Void.”

He gave a short nod. “Like I told you earlier, a safeword is sacred. You may say it at any time and everything will stop.” He paused, his gaze locked on hers. “Do you trust me with this?”

The fifty-six-million-dollar question. She couldn't give him empty words, not this time. This was real. This was happening. And as he'd already proved, he wouldn't go easy on her. If she gave him that trust, she'd have to go with him wherever he wanted to take her.