There’s a soft breeze blowing against my cheek but my insentience keeps me locked in a dreamscape. It’s a mosaic of pictures and sensations, of billowing white linen drapes, heavy dark eyes, the soothing sound of waves breaking on a distant beach and warm sunshine.

My eyes flicker and then open. Straightaway these images shift to form my new reality. It’s nighttime. I’m lying in a large, ornate four-poster bed that’s been carved from some dark, exotic wood, the air is thick with an evening humidity that’s unfamiliar to me and the white linen drapes are mosquito nets drawn tightly around my opulent cage.

And those eyes.

My gaze shifts upwards. He’s leaning forward in a leather wingback next to the bed with his large hands clasped together in front of him. He’s watching me, and not even the lightness of the mosquito net can dull the burning heat of his gaze.

Instinctively, I pull the sheets closer to protect myself. The rich cotton feels cool against my skin but something’s wrong. I shouldn’t be feeling this sensation on every intimate part my body…

Oh my god.

He’s removed all my clothes. I’m not even wearing underwear. I pull the sheet tighter as my heart start to pound. At the same time I’m aware of a faint ache in my forehead and the left side of my face feels tender and bruised.

Where am I?

I jump at the sound of wood scraping against the tiled floor. He rises slowly from the chair and approaches the bed. His huge body seems otherworldly behind the gentle, white gauze. He’s not wearing black anymore, that much I can tell. The devil has chosen blue jeans and a white t-shirt to torment me with today.

“What happened… the hospital?” I sound husky and scared.

“You’re safe now.”

With him? I don’t think so.

“Where are my clothes?”

There’s a pause. “You won’t be needing them tonight.”

The breath catches in my throat. His words need no explanation. He means to take me whether I consent to it or not.

He draws the net to one side and stands there, looking down at me. The evening humidity has gifted a soft sheen to his olive skin, accentuating the thick muscles of his forearms. His dark hair is slightly damp and slicked back, and a generous shadow of stubble grazes the powerful jaw and the sharp contours of his face. There’s a silhouette of hard muscle definition beneath his t-shirt.

His close proximity is chasing away the last remnants of my sleep. I recall a bargaining – some sort hasty exchange – back in the hospital room. My father’s life for my body. Is this why I’m here, to whore myself out to him in the hope that he’ll honour our agreement? Is there any proof that my parents survived?

He starts to undress then, starting with his t-shirt. The material is dropped to the floor and I’m left to appreciate an upper body that holds me enthralled. Broad shoulders, a tapered waist, a trail of coarse black hair all the way from his chest down to his rock hard abdomen, and finally disappearing out of view beneath his belt buckle… I swallow quickly. I never knew such physical perfection existed. Perhaps a black heart and a bleak existence is the price you pay for such flawless masculinity?

“What is this place?” I whisper. I’m frightened and disorientated. I’m a long way from home – from my mother, my father. Safety. Please god, may they still be alive. I need to get out of here. I need to see them again. I promised mom no more drama.

A low hiss escapes from his lips.

“We talk later.”

His words are terrifying. ‘Later’ means that a now and present has to happen, as rough and painful as it might be. There is no tenderness in this man’s eyes, only hunger.

He sits down on the bed next to me and snaps the mosquito net shut around him. His frame makes a heavy indentation in the mattress and the movement sends ripples throughout my body. He’s still wearing his jeans but I can see the strain of his erection against the thick material. Lightening-quick, he jerks my white sheet away from me

“No!”

I try to scramble out of reach but he catches my wrist and pulls me back to him. I feel a flash of anger then. Does he really think I’ll submit to him that easily? My chest starts to rise and fall with indignation.

“There it is,” he says, gazing down at me with a curl of his lips. “There’s that fire I covet so much.”

“Screw you!”

I slap him hard across the face, the ugly sound ricocheting off the white walls of his cavernous bedroom. With a growl he yanks me closer and I cry out as his fingertips brand my slender wrist with his fury. There is no scenario here that will end favorably for me. The next few moments will define my life forever.

“At least tell me where I am first!”

“I said, LATER!” he roars, grasping my jaw with his other hand and wrenching it upwards. I’m terrified by the expression that greets me, daunted by the sheer physicality of him. I have to calm this man somehow. I have to get out of this alive…

Trembling, I place my free hand on his chest. His skin is like burning embers beneath my fingertips. “Not like this,” I plead softly.

He doesn’t respond. Did he even hear? I try to take my hand away but he moves swiftly, imprisoning it there with his own. I try again but his grip is too strong so I just kneel there facing him, his rich scent intermingling with my fear, trying to appeal to whatever humanity still lingers in him. Hoping it might lessen the amount of pain he wants to inflict on me.

“Stop fighting this, mi alma,” he says suddenly, his unfamiliar endearment rolling smoothly off his tongue. “You want this as much as me. Let me show you what true pleasure is.”

My core starts to pulse at his words – hard and insistent – awakening a base need deep inside of me. My nipples stiffen to aching peaks and my breath turns to soft, shallow gasps. I’m torn between lust and hate again. How can I want him after the terrible things he’s done to me? After the terrible things he could still do?

He goes to kiss me then, catching me off-guard, inclining his head and pressing firm, warm lips to my own. They part instinctively, silencing my thoughts straightaway. Encouraged, he releases my wrist and cups the back of my head to deepen our connection, deftly stroking his tongue in and out of my mouth and giving me no option but to accept all of him.

I return his skill with a heat and intensity of my own. My arms curl around his neck and he roughly cups my bare breast before trapping my nipple between his finger and thumb and twisting. I gasp as the sensation shoots straight to my core and intensifies the ache between my legs. How can this man evoke such a physical reaction in me? I want to grab his hand and force it downwards to the place I need him the most.

“Where am I?” I repeat breathlessly, tearing my mouth away from his.

“Paradise,” he murmurs, unbuckling his belt and ripping open his flies as he guides me down onto the bed, never breaking contact with my body for a second. Now he’s trailing silken kisses all the way across my jawline and cheek.

I force my eyelids open as he looms large over me, gasping as he cups my chin in his hand and tips my head back to look at him again. Up close, I can see flecks of gold around the iris of his eyes but there’s no warmth there, only a need to claim what he thinks is his. Something breaks inside of me then. I’ll do anything to save my father but if this man takes my body like this a part of me will die forever.

I wrench my head away from him. “Don’t.”

My tears start to fall, silently at first, but before long they’re tearing the breath from my lungs, blinding me from the fury that has descended over my captor’s face. I sense it though. The atmosphere in the room has switched from heavy and charged to dark and menacing, breached only by the broken sounds of my misery.

His body weight feels unbearable to me now, his hips are still pinning me to the mattress. I want to push him away and scrub my face clean of his kisses. I feel dirty and violated. I hate myself for allowing him inside my mouth again, for letting him steal inside my defenses.

He stares at me for the longest time before releasing me and rising from the bed. I hear the swish of the mosquito net as it’s angrily pushed to one side followed by the sounds of his zipper and belt buckle. I try to compose myself, swiping the heel of my hand across my face over and over again.

Is this a reprieve?

Is there still a trace of compassion left inside this man?

“Look at me,” he orders suddenly. “Turn that pretty little face to the side, Eve Miller, and give me the benefit of your full attention.”

The tone of his voice is a warning. The heavy burden of consequence is right there waiting for me. What have I done? What horrors have I set in motion by refusing him my body tonight?

I do what he asks but I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the wall beyond him. I can’t bear to face what’s coming.

“You’re tired. You should rest.”

There’s a pause and I wait for the killer blow.

“You will never reject me again, Eve. Do you understand? You will submit to me. You will uphold your side of the bargain. One call, that’s all it takes, my angel. One call. One bullet that has your father’s name written all over it.”

Silence follows as I struggle to comprehend the cruelty of his words.

He turns to leave.

“Where am I?” I plead weakly, my voice shadowing the sound of his footsteps as he strides towards the door. If I repeat the same words over and over perhaps one day he’ll answer me with the truth.

“Home,” he says harshly, slamming the door behind him.