Laiken

I can't sleep.

The long shower I take helps to ease my tortured muscles, but it's not enough. The things keeping me awake can't be washed away by water. They come at me when I stretch out in my bed, creeping from the back of my mind until they're attacking without remorse.

Vahn.

Wyatt.

Franklin.

Annie.

Silas.

Kara.

Dominic.

All of them give me insomnia. Lights on or off, eyes shut or wide, nothing makes them go away. Not even a second shower.

Rolling on my side, I look across the room, where my bathroom door is cracked open and letting light leak over the floor. On the handle hangs Dominic's jacket. I put it there before I cleaned up.

If I squint my eyes just right, blurring them, I can pretend he's in here with me, guarding over me, keeping me safe. He'd tell me to go to sleep, shut my heavy eyes, and just drift off, because he's here to keep anyone from hurting me again. It's comforting enough that I let my eyes close. Sleep doesn't seem like a pointless wish.

His kindness comes at a price.

Kara's cryptic warning keeps me from relaxing. I pop my eyes open again, forced to acknowledge that the jacket is just a jacket, and I'm all alone.

But I don't have to be.

A tiny flutter begins in my heart. Sitting up, I throw my blankets aside, put my bare feet on the floor. I'm wearing a pair of gray flannel pajama pants and a long sleeved top with black piping on the seams. It's meant for wearing under the covers, not fit for wandering around in public, but fuck it. I don't care who sees me in clothes like this.

Plus, it's the middle of the night. Who would see me? Dominic? He's probably sleeping. Then why are you bringing him his jacket? I ask myself, scooping it up. I try not to think it, but the words swim through my mind anyway. Because I'm hoping he's awake, like me.

He never came by after Kara left. I wanted to talk to him and find out what he said to his parents. I was ready to attack them when we walked in. I'm not sure I can continue to live peacefully with them in this house. But what other choice do I have?

As softly as I can, I wander the darkened hallways. The recessed lighting is on its lowest setting; it's enough for me to find my way through the house. Though I probably could do it in pitch-blackness, at this point.

The carpet guides me like a breadcrumb path. I turn the corner, walking until I enter the wing of the house that Dominic's bedroom is in. The mansion is dead quiet. When I reach his door, I lean close, preparing to knock.

Wait. What if he IS sleeping?

Imagining him like me, struggling to get himself unconscious, makes me frown. How awful would it be if he'd just fallen asleep, and here I am, about to rip him awake? Lowering my hand, I grip the jacket. I'm not sure what to do now. Maybe I can listen and hear something. Then, if he IS awake, I can knock without guilt.

Turning my head, I press my ear to the wood. I strain to listen for any hint that Dominic is as wide-awake as me. The surface of the door is cool. It sticks to my skin, my eardrum thudding, making every tiny sound funnel through to me.

Then I hear it - a faint, undeniable gasp. It's a terrible sound, but the next tortured moan is even worse. Dominic is in pain! Who's hurting him? Who would dare? Flaring with a need to protect him as much as he's protected me, I shove my way into his room.

It's dark, his small window letting in a bluish hint of moonlight. He's thrashing in his blankets like he's being attacked. Lines crisscross his face, his eyes crunched tight. “Stop,” he groans, twisting his body deeper in the blankets.

Perspiration glistens on his forehead and his naked chest. His teeth are bared in a grimace. He's having a nightmare, I realize. Starting forward, I grab his forearm. “Dominic,” I whisper. Then, louder, “Dominic! Wake up, you're having a bad dream!”

“Let me go!” he roars, curling his huge hand around mine where it touches him. My world spins; he's ripped me off the floor, tackling me on the mattress. I stare up into his frightening, but somehow terrified, expression. His eyes are wide open now, darker than the shadows inside a closed coffin.

He isn't seeing me.

“Dominic,” I whisper plaintively.

Bit by bit, the light returns to his eyes. He blinks, gaping down at me with as much confusion as my own. His chest rises in rapid waves. I can almost see his heart ramming against his ribs, eager to jump out of his skin. “Laiken . . . what . . .?” He sees his hands coiled on my wrists, pressing me flat under him in his bed.

He's awake, but the dream is still clinging to him. It makes his brow lower, his lips moving into a painful frown. Quickly he releases me, throwing the blankets aside so he can get free. He's wearing nothing but a pair of tight black boxers. Facing away on the bed, he plants his feet on the floor. He braces his face in his hands with his elbows resting on his thighs. They're the only things keeping him from collapsing forward. “I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I didn't know it was you. Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up, I draw my knees under me. I'm close enough to touch him.  I'm worried what will happen if I do. The urge is strong, though. I have to grip the hem of my pajama shirt to keep myself under control. “No, I'm fine. Are you okay?”

I can't see his face well. I watch his hands sweep up and through his hair. “It was just a nightmare.”

My wrists still tingle from his powerful grip. “You sounded so scared. I've never seen—”

“Why are you here?” he asks, cutting me off. He twists around to stare at me. Moonlight glows along his naked torso, tracing all the parts of him that I want to. I've never been jealous of the moon before.

“I was bringing you your jacket.” Looking around, I see it on the floor. I dropped it when I ran inside. I climb off the bed, grabbing it, circling around to where he is. He's sitting, and it makes his eyes level with my chest.

He glances at the jacket. “You thought I needed this right now? It's got to be after midnight.”

I don't know what I expected from him, but it's not this cool attitude. Lowering the jacket, I let it dangle. My eyes move to the door; it's partly open. “You're right. This was stupid. I'll go, sorry.”

Dominic captures my upper arm as I start to move. “Wait.” It's comes out harsh. Like his mouth is full of sharp stones. He's staring at the jacket still. Carefully, he tugs it from my grip. Then he throws it across the room and pulls me into his lap. “I didn't say I wanted you to leave.”

The solid wall of his chest muffles my gasp. His skin is scalding hot, still slick from his nightmare fueled sweat. I'm perched on his thick thigh with my legs hooked over his other one. Dominic has always been bigger than me, but being curled on his lap, he's become larger than life. “What are you doing?”

“Holding you,” he says, draping his heavy arms around my shoulders. With a firm, unrelenting pressure, he hugs me until I relax against him. It's a welcome embrace, stealing pound after pound of tension from my body.

With my ear on his chest, I listen to his heartbeat. It's consistent in its drumming. As if he didn't just wake up from a terrifying dream. “Why?” I ask softly. “You're the one who had the nightmare.”

His arms tighten. “I told you, it was nothing.”

“What was it about?”

“Nothing.”

Racking my brain, I realize why this feels familiar. “In the preserve,” I say, trying to look up at him, “you had a nightmare then, too. I wasn't sure. It woke me up.  You were thrashing around next to me.”  His arms constrict me, keeping me in place.

“That's not what you should be remembering about that encounter,” he whispers. His fingers glide down the outside of my arm. He goes past my elbow, the flannel making his touch harder to sense. When he reaches my cuff, he tucks his fingers inside, lightly brushing the underside of my wrist.

Shivering, I try to move my hand away. Dominic locks his fingers with mine, as if we're dancers on a stage. Scooping my hair off my neck with his other hand, he tips my chin up, rubbing his lips over mine in a whisper of a tease. Pleasure blooms between my legs.

“This is what you should be thinking about,” he says, staring into my eyes. “Focus on how wonderful I can make you feel. I want it in your mind all the damn time. I want to be the only thing you can think about.”

I swallow loudly. “I do think about you. That's why I'm asking—ah!” His thumb flicks lightly over my pointed nipple through my shirt. I shift on his lap—he turns me on too damn easily.

“That's better,” he purrs. He circles my nipple, talking in a soft rumble that infects my brain. “Just think about this. It's why you really came to my room, isn't it? Not to give me a useless jacket.” Letting my hand go, he uses both of his to tease my breasts. The pleasure shocks me into an open-mouth gasp. “Next time, just ask me to fuck you. I'll never deny you, Laiken. Never.”

His words are dirty. They thrill me. He makes it so easy to forget every problem that exists between us. He pinches my nipples, tugging them towards him. I arch my back, whimpering helplessly. His grip through the material is firm as he twists his thumb and forefinger, playing with me expertly. I feel something move against me in his lap. It's his cock coming to life.

He sweeps his tongue over my lips, kissing me softly. His mouth moves away from mine, grazing my jaw, then my throat, until he reaches the collar of my pajamas. He gives my breasts a quick squeeze before he undoes the first button on my pajamas. It gives me enough of a break that my thoughts clear and I can finally speak again. “Wait,” I say breathlessly. “I didn't come in here for this.”

“Bullshit,” he laughs. He shoots me a wicked look, his lips a jagged smirk. “You knew exactly what you were doing coming to my room in the middle of the night.”

“I wasn't coming here for sex,” I argue, shivering as he undoes a second button. “Wouldn't I have worn something sexier? These pajamas are the frumpiest things I own.”

Gripping the split-apart sides of my top, he halts his undressing of me. My cleavage peeks between his fingers; I breathe faster because of how close he is. “Are you joking?” he asks. Grabbing my middle, he spins me on his lap, hooking my legs on the outside of his knees. He spreads his thighs, forcing mine wide. Dominic's erection rubs against my ass. “Don't you understand yet? It doesn't matter what you wear, Laiken. To me, you're the most impossible to resist creature on this fucking earth.”

His beard scrapes on the back of my neck as he sets his chin on my shoulder. With two fingers he traces me from my collarbone, down my sternum, between my breasts until he hits the final button; he undoes it with a flick of his fingers.

Using his teeth, he slides my top down my shoulder, baring it to the air. I shudder, overcome by a wave of desire. My thighs strain as I try to close my legs but his knees block me. “Hold still,” he hisses.

At this point I can't hold still. I'm rocking on his lap, too turned on to make my muscles obey me. “What if someone hears us?” I asked nervously.

“It doesn't matter. But I hope they do hear us. It means I'm doing a good job.” His palm flattens over my stomach, fingertips digging in possessively. My arms are tangled in my sleeves and he clasps them in one hand behind my back, pinning them. I'm trapped; he can do anything he wants to me. That idea drives nails of excitement into my veins.

“Please,” I whimper. “I really don't want anyone to hear us.”

“That's a problem,” he murmurs. His fingers slip between the top of my pants and my skin. “Because I want everyone in the world to hear the proof that you belong to me. I want them to hear the beautiful song you sing when I make you come.” His fingers move lower and his voice goes with it. “But the power is in your hands. Try not to make a sound, we'll see who wins.”

I can feel my juice pooling in my panties. I know I'm soaked before he dips his middle finger into my crease, touching my molten heat and confirming it for both of us.

“Ah,” I hiss in delight.

“You're so wet,” he whispers, and I feel his cock flex against me. When I'm turned on, he's turned on even more. His fingers move against my lower lips, tracing up and down; he spreads me open, setting a fingertip on top of my plump, eager clit. He presses, making fast, firm motions. He has full access to my body with how he's spread me open and pinned me against him.

Dominic shifts on the bed, driving his hips upwards. It doesn't matter that I'm in pants and he's in his underwear; I can feel his searing, rigid length as it rubs along my ass cheeks. I breathe heavier. His pace is consistent, like this isn't driving him wild. I know it must be; I can feel his heart beating radically through my back.

His long fingers slide until he inserts them inside of me a mere inch. “You're twitching,” he says. “Fuck, it's crazy hot how excited you get for me.”

My pussy hugs his fingers, desperate for anything to fill it. “More,” I beg.

His chuckle is full of dark satisfaction. “I thought you'd fight longer, it's fun to watch you break down. Are you going to keep pretending that you weren't hoping for this to happen?”

I don't answer at first. He withdraws his fingers, leaving me empty. I whine plaintively. “No, don't stop!”

He places his hand on top of my pussy again. “Then stop playing games and tell me the truth. Isn't that what you're all about? The truth?”

“Fine,” I say, gritting my teeth. I wriggle on his lap, trying to rub myself against his hand, but he withdraws so that I can't create any pressure. I moan in frustration. “Yes, I was hoping you would be awake, and it crossed my mind that if you were, something like this might happen. But it really wasn't the main reason I came here.”

“Stop pretending it was the damn jacket.”

“No, it wasn't the jacket, forget about the jacket.” My whole body is burning up, a sensation in my blood like an itch that needs to be scratched but can't be reached. I'm so turned on and I want to come, and he can give it to me, but he won't. “Touch me, Dominic, please. Rub me off. I need to come so bad!”

“Fuck,” he says in my ear. He might know how to drive me crazy, but I'm learning how to manipulate him, too. He likes when I tell him that he's making me feel good.

His fingers come down on either side of my clit, creating a V shape. He pushes his fingers together, lightly pinching my sensitive clitoris. The sensation is fantastic; lightning moves through me, creating an incredible pressure in my lower belly. My orgasm is so close, so fucking close. If he just keeps touching me I'll get there.

“What was the real reason?” he growls.

“What?” I ask, too distracted by the orgasm that's just out of reach.

He fingers me again, siding all the way in to his knuckles and I cry out. “You said there was a real reason, and it wasn't this, so just what was it then?”

I'm trembling all over, my muscles tensing. I can't answer him. My body is giving one hundred percent to reaching climax. He spreads his fingers open in me, then crosses them like he's making a promise. He thrusts them once, twice, and then with the side of his hand he manages to rub my clit at the same time as he's fingering me. His hands are big enough to achieve it.

As I marvel at that fact, I tip over the edge into a free fall towards orgasm. “Fuck, yes!” I shout, shaking violently in his lap. My pussy clings to his fingers. He pistons them, ratcheting up the orgasm by giving me something to chew on. It feels so much better coming with something inside of me, even better because it belongs to him.

I belong to him.

The strange thought is pushed aside. I'm not ready to think that way, but for a brief second, it turns me on anew. I'm still shaking, his fingers inside of me, when he puts his nose to my cheek and sighs. “Tell me the reason you came here tonight.”

“Because I didn't want to be alone,” I say. I realize what I've just said. It slipped out of me before I could stop it. Now my honesty floats between us in the open air.

Dominic goes still, not speaking, not moving. He pries his fingers free and I gasp. “You wanted to be with me, not for sex, but my company?” he asks, sounding doubtful. He releases my arms. My shoulders ache—I hadn't realizes how roughly he was gripping me. Discomfort is meaningless when I'm lit up from the inside out with pleasure.

I swing my legs over, standing between his knees and facing him. I'm barely taller than him when he's sitting on the bed. My hands settle on his knees. “I know in my gut that you want to keep me safe. You've done it again and again, protecting me like no one else ever has. Not even my own father.”

“Your father,” he whispers. He shakes his head, looking me in the eye. I'm not sure what he searching for, but when he wraps his hands in my hair and pulls me to him for a kiss, I think he found it.

My fingers rest on his shoulders, exploring his different wedges of muscles, the inked word Faith that I can read as if it’s brail. I back away so that I can look at him, touching the tattoos on his body, marveling at how the feathers can look so real and still be flat as skin. I keep expecting them to be textured, three-dimensional.

“I couldn't sleep,” I say. “I don't know how you did it. I'm envious that you could, even if it did give you nightmares. I tried and tried and I just couldn't. I guess I thought the only thing that would make me feel comfortable was you, so maybe, if you were awake, I could come in here and we could talk and . . .” I trail off, unable to finish.

He pulls me into the bed with him, sliding the blankets on top of us. He spoons me from behind, and I tuck against him perfectly. I breathe a little quicker, expecting him to yank my pants down and shove his rigid dick inside of me.

But he doesn't.

He just lies there, holding me as our bodies expand together like we're sharing one set of lungs. It's so peaceful that I forget all about what we were just doing and how worried I was that we'd be so loud others would hear us. Being in his arms like this, I'm invincible.

“You really feel like your father didn't protect you?” he asks suddenly.

I open my mouth then close it. I let myself speak without thinking before. I want to take my time, now. “It's not even a question. He let your mother take me away from him and everyone else without putting up a fight. He made me stay here in this cage for six years, telling me that he'd eventually help me escape. And then, when it looked like it was finally going to happen, he took all that money and left me and Kara behind.” I laugh sadly, choking on the noise, barely holding back tears. “It sounds like textbook abandonment to me.”

Dominic squeezes me to him, his hand running gently up and down my forearm. “There's something I need to tell you,” he says. “And knowing how you feel about your father makes it a little easier.”

I turn in his arms, staring at him. “What is it?”

His eyebrows are furrowed tight. “My parents have a proposition for us. They want me to take you to where your father was living while working for us. They think there might be some clues to his whereabouts, ones only you'd notice.”

Studying his face, I try to keep my suspicions at bay. “This plan sounds like it helps your parents, not me.”

“If we find Joseph, they've promised to let you and your sister leave here.” The knob on his throat bounces as he swallows. “You could be free.”

I'm so stunned that I can't talk. My mind twists and turns, trying to spot all the negatives I have to be missing. If this is his parents’ plan, then there must be more to it. I don't trust them at all. But their motives have been the same since the start, finding my father. That's all. Would they really let my sister and me go if they were to find him?

And can I actually be okay with that?

“You're thinking about saying no, aren't you?” he asks.

I stare at him intensely. “I don't know what I'm thinking. As upset as I am with my father, handing him over to your parents is pure betrayal. I don't know if I can be okay with that, even if it does set me and Kara free.”

“You don't have to do anything,” he says seriously. His hand moves down, wrapping around mine so that we're holding hands between us. He implores me with his burning stare. “But I have to be honest with you about how worried I am. This is probably the only way to guarantee that nothing happens to you or your sister. I've thought about all the ways to help you escape,” he admits. My heart leaps at that. “What my parents did to you is unforgivable. I'm also terrified it's not the worst thing they'll try to do. If I managed to slip you and Kara off the estate, my parents have access to so many ways to find you. You'd spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. I don't think you'd ever rest. You wouldn't really be free, the leash would only be invisible.”

“But putting my dad back into your parents’ hands, I could never live with myself.”

“I was worried you'd say that,” he sighs. “I got my hopes up a little bit when you were talking about him negatively. But you love him, he still has a hold on you.” His eyes darken. “I understand that better than you realize.”

I sit up, looking down at him. “What hold does your father have over you?”

His mouth crinkles on the edges, like he's not sure if he should frown or scowl or show no expression at all. “Right now the only hold he has on me is you. And he knows it. Until he and my mother agree to leave you out of this, I'll never be confident enough to cut myself off from them. And until they find your father and get back the money he stole, they'll never rest.”

“Then we're trapped,” I say, laughing cynically. “Unless . . .” I run it through my head a few different ways before I speak. “I definitely don't want to betray my dad. But if what your parents really want at this point is the money, couldn't we find my dad without them knowing, then encourage him to hand the money back so that me, and my sister, and you could all get away from this?”

Dominic covers his mouth, his forehead grooved as he thinks. “It's a long shot. Finding him opens up a direct path to my parents finding him, too. But if we're careful, it could work.” He straightens up, gazing at me with wide, galaxy-black eyes. “How are you so fucking beautiful, and also so fucking clever?”

My face grows warm. He leans towards me, tangling his fingers in my hair and giving me a fierce kiss, then a second, then a third. Between each one he says a single word:

“Mine. Mine. Mine.”

I know he's right.