ADELINE

 

I STARE UP at Lucien as he hovers over me, breathing harshly.  His eyes are transfixed on me as I quake underneath him from the aftershocks of what felt like my millionth orgasm.  Groaning, he closes his eyes and licks his full lips that I suddenly want to kiss.

What just happened between us is indescribable.  I wouldn't be able to describe it even if I wanted to.  Something shifted between us, and he became so much more than my captor.

He became my lover.

And for one miniscule second, I allowed myself to play into the fantasy, holding onto him like I never wanted to let go of the dream.

My euphoria is short lived, however, because Lucien's warm gaze suddenly grows icy, and the ever-present scowl that I've become used to appears on his face once more.  Without so much as a word or a caressing touch, he pulls out of me, leaving me feeling cold and confused.

He tosses the condom into a small trashcan by the nightstand and begins to quickly get dressed.  Mumbling to himself, I can see the emotions as they play out on his face.

Satisfaction…confusion…apprehension…and…regret.

The last one hits me hard as his dark gaze finally meets mine.  A few minutes ago, he was making love to me like I was the most precious thing in the world to him.

But now…now it's almost as if he's looking through me.  Like I don't exist.  Like I'm some discarded, little plaything.

Hastily, I wrap the sheets around my nudity, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and exposed.

Lucien reaches into his pants pocket for a bottle I instantly recognize.  He squirts a large amount of the sanitizer all over his palm before hurriedly scrubbing his fingers, hands, wrists and muscular forearms.

Tears fill my eyes as I watch his ritual.  Does he think I'm…dirty?  Is he disgusted by me?

I can't stop the self-deprecating questions from bombarding my mind.  And then I quickly tell myself I don't care.  I shouldn't care.  Not about this.  Certainly not about him.

Lucien let me touch him even though I told him I wouldn't.  Keeping my hands on the bedframe proved to be more than difficult when he tore through my virginity.  The pain was sharp, but, thankfully, quick.  And before I knew it, my hands were roaming all over his sculpted chest, arms and shoulders.

When I moved my hands to his muscular back, however, I felt numerous scars marring his flawless skin.  I couldn't help but run my fingertips over the jagged grooves as he moved inside of me.  The scars somehow made him more…human, in my mind.

This formidable, unapproachable man, who personified perfection, suddenly became flawed.

There is a reason Lucien is the way he is, and perhaps that knowledge of knowing there's a deep meaning behind all of this is keeping me from freaking out right now.

"So what happens now?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, but failing miserably.

"Jax will arrange everything for you to return home," he says in a cool tone, shooting me wary sidelong glances.  He's detached and so much unlike how he was just a few moments ago with me.

Growing angrier by the second and feeling dejected now that the afterglow of my first time has evaporated, I ask him, "So you're going to let me go and just kidnap another girl to have sex with?"  My tone is dripping with acid, and I hate that the thought of him with another woman makes me suddenly jealous.

He turns and looks at me, momentarily stopping the lathering of sanitizer on his hands.

Before he can answer me, I decide that I need to ask the question that has been in the forefront of my mind since day one.

"Why me?" I ask, and my voice is barely above a whisper.  When he cocks his brow in confusion, I clarify.  "Why did you choose me?  Out of all the girls in the world, why did you choose me?"

His thick brows pinch together over his dark, intense eyes as he says, "I didn't choose you.  You were chosen for me.  Your handler didn't explain any of this to you?" he asks, and I can hear the frustration in his voice.

His words are not making any sense.  I was chosen?  By whom?  And what in the hell is a handler?  Someone who kidnaps poor girls off the street to sell them to rich perverts, who then in turn steal their virginity?

The way he's talking and acting…it's like I should already know all of this and what I've gotten myself into.  As if I had a choice.

"You keep talking about a handler.  Is that what you call the man who kidnapped me?"  I can sense the anger starting to roll off of him in waves, but I can't seem to make myself shut up.  "I don't know who chose me for you.  In fact, I don't know anything about this deal you supposedly have with these people.  I was kidnapped at gunpoint while I was walking home with Giovanni, my fiancé," I tell him honestly.

My words seem to visibly wound him, and he takes a step back as if their force is too much to bear.  His eyes narrow for a moment before he shakes his head, a flash of irritation crossing his face.  "You're lying," he hisses.

Now it's my turn to be hurt by his words, and they cut me straight to the bone.  "Why would I lie about this?" I ask, my eyes shimmering with tears and blurring the man before me, who is starting to look more like a monster every second that passes.  "Giovanni and I had just left a restaurant and were walking home when a group of men in ski masks showed up out of nowhere.  A man with a gun grabbed me and knocked me out," I say, gently brushing past the spot on my temple that is still sore from the brunt force.  "That's the last thing I remember…before waking up here."

Lucien's hands clench into fists at his sides as he glares at me.  How could he be mad when he orchestrated it all?

Unless he didn't.

And then realization slowly dawns on me.

Lucien said I was chosen for him, so what if this is all one giant mistake?  What if they kidnapped the wrong girl?  Maybe I wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place.

Before I can say anything else, Lucien walks to the door, inputs the code and leaves, slamming the door behind him.  I stare at the door for a while, expecting him to come back in, but he never does.

Tears stream down my cheeks as a sob tears from my throat.  Everything that has happened in the past hour and a half hits me like a ton of bricks.

What have I done?

If this was all a mistake…then I just gave my virginity to someone who has no reason to keep me here, who might have released me once I explained to him what had happened to me.

Feeling disgusted with myself, I jump out of bed and run to the bathroom.  I barely make it to the toilet in time before I'm retching and throwing up the contents of the dinner I shared with him.

Feeling weak and nauseated, I slowly stand up and turn the hot water knob for the shower.  When I get in, the scalding water pelts my skin, but I can barely feel it.  Fisting the soap in my hands, I vigorously scrub away any remnants of our time together.

When my skin is red and rubbed raw and I can no longer take the scorching water, I turn off the shower and dry off.  Not bothering to dress or do my hair, I simply wrap another towel around myself, return to the bedroom and collapse onto the bed, pulling the sheet and comforter up around me and sobbing into the pillow.

What have I done?

Giovanni will never forgive me.