Several realisations slam into me all at once, sharp and disorienting.
My arms are stretched above my head, wrists bound tight to the headboard by thick ropes I can already feel biting into my skin.
My fingers scrabble uselessly against the knots, trying to find any slack, any chance to slip free, but there's nothing—just rough fibres and the sinking horror that I am completely at his mercy.
I pull harder, thrashing, my muscles straining, but the bindings only cinch tighter. My skin burns. My heart hammers so loudly it feels like it's in my throat.
And then I feel it—heavy thighs bracketing my hips, pinning me in place. A solid weight pressing me into the mattress as he shifts above me.
The shadows conceal his face, but I can sense him watching, studying me.
My chest rises and falls in frantic little jerks. I keep my gaze locked on the ropes, refusing to look up, refusing to acknowledge what I already know.
My captor doesn't move. He doesn't speak. He just lets me fight—lets me exhaust myself as I twist and buck against his hold. The rope grinds against the tender skin of my wrists, scraping it raw.
And then, finally, his voice comes, low and soft and terrifying in its control.
"What did you say earlier?"
Oh, God.
My stomach twists.
Zephyr.
It's Zephyr.
He's here.
And in this darkness, with my heart slamming itself to pieces, I can't tell if he's come to save me or break me.
He must be worse than Shallow.
He has to be.
"What did I tell you, mon Eloise?" he murmurs, every syllable sinking through my skin like poison.
I squeeze my eyes shut. My breathing tears out of me in ragged, muffled gasps. I don't look at him. I can't. I just stare at my bound hands as if willing them to come free by sheer force of terror.
Fuck whatever he told me.
Fuck him.
"Let me go!" I scream into the tape, but it comes out garbled, wet, nothing but a broken plea he doesn't bother to answer.
He shifts forward, planting his palms flat on my hips.
His grip is rough. Unyielding.
Heat shoots through me, electric and horrifying, making my body arch against my will. I tremble under the pressure of his hands, my mind fracturing into a thousand shards of panic and confusion.
This is not happening.
This can't be happening.
My thoughts splinter. There is no rationality left. No logic. Only pure, primal instinct as I fight him with every ounce of strength left in my limbs.
I thrash. I kick. I try to twist out from under him.
But it's useless.
He's too big. Too heavy. Too impossibly strong.
His weight pins me down like a verdict.
Like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I struggle…
I am not getting free.
I scream, a hoarse, muffled sound of pure frustration, and try to buck him off me. My hips twist hard, straining against his grip, but he doesn't even flinch.
Instead, he laughs.
A low, rich sound—deep and amused, as if he finds my defiance charming.
The sound slides down my spine like a blade dipped in ice.
I go still, panting against the tape, my chest rising and falling in frantic jerks. My hair has come loose, wild strands clinging to my damp cheeks and tangling in my lashes, blurring my vision.
Not that I particularly wanted to see his face.
It was a weapon in itself.
Beautiful in a way that made something traitorous twist low in my belly—something I refused to name.
He lifted a hand and, with almost absurd gentleness, brushed the loose tendrils away from my face. His fingertips grazed my temple, lingering longer than necessary.
"Fascinating," he murmured, his voice soft, dangerously intimate. "You have yet to understand. Perhaps it's still new to you. But you are mine, mon Eloise."
My body went rigid. Fury burned hotter than fear.
Fuck him.
"Fuck. Off," I hissed, forcing the words out from behind the tape. They came out garbled and wet, but the meaning was clear.
His eyes darkened.
Slowly, he curled his fingers around my jaw—rough now, unyielding—and lowered his face until our foreheads nearly touched.
His breath washed over my skin, cool mint laced with smoke, and the intimacy of it made my pulse stutter.
"Keep pissing me off," he whispered, his voice a velvet threat. "I enjoy having you restrained."
His thumb pressed lightly against the corner of my mouth, tracing the edge of the tape.
"And if you wake up your precious family," he continued, his mouth so close I could feel the shape of every word, "that's your business. It will be your embarrassment when they see you spread out for me."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"And your husband…" He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking toward the door. "He's just down the hall. One little scream, Eloise. One sound. Shall we see if he comes running to save you?"
Oh God.
Oh Lord.
I didn't dare move.
For one suspended moment, all I could hear was the roar of my own pulse and the rasp of my breath against the tape.
But then—
No.
A voice inside me, small but unbreakable, rose through the panic.
I didn't care anymore if they heard.
If they came running and found me like this, they would know I hadn't wanted it. That I hadn't been some willing captive to his twisted sense of possession.
I had to know I fought him.
Even if it ended badly.
Even if no one believed me.
I had to know I didn't just lie there and let him take whatever he wanted.
So I sucked in the deepest breath I could manage through my nose—
And I screamed.
The sound ripped through my throat, a raw, broken wail that vibrated against the tape—muffled but unmistakable. A sound no one in this house would mistake for pleasure.
I thrashed beneath him, twisting my wrists hard enough that the ropes cut into my skin. My heels dug into the mattress, shoving at his thighs with all the strength left in my body.
For a heartbeat, I thought he would clamp a hand over my mouth. That he would strike me or pin me so hard I'd stop fighting.
But he didn't.
He just watched me, his expression unreadable. His grip tightened, fingers digging into my hips—but he didn't move to silence me.
Almost like he was waiting to see if I had it in me.
My chest heaved. My heart pounded.
I glared up at him, hair wild, cheeks wet, rage and terror and something far more dangerous coiling together in my chest.
I would not succumb.
Not to him.
Not to anyone.
Also, I hadn't screamed; I only thought about it.
Now I know this is just the beginning.