Rise And Shine

GABRIEL

Rowan Bradley is just as striking as she was last night when I put her in the bed, her red hair a wavy mess around her shoulders, framing her face. She isn't happy to see me this morning. But I knew she wouldn't be after the needle.

She stares at me with those large milky blue eyes, pulling her knees up to her chest to protect herself from me. I see the questions she wants to ask me in her petrified gaze, but she still is silent as she studies me.

She wants to know where she is.

She wants to know why I've taken her.

"I see you've finally woken up. I was beginning to think I gave you too much." I say coolly, taking a step into her room without consent. 

The drapes are open, the beams from the Tuscan sun outside the large window stretching across the carpeted floor, bringing along early morning warmth. 

She scurries backward, away from me like a doe caught in headlights.

What is she doing on the floor, anyway?

And why has she completely torn this room apart?

I spent a lot of time and funds making sure this was ready for her.

I don't appreciate this mess.

"Why are you down there?" I ask civilly.

She doesn't respond. She stares ahead as I place a breakfast tray on top of the messy bed, then remove the top of the dish and flood the room with the scents of bacon and eggs and the melted butter from a bagel. But she doesn't move.

"You have to eat." I cautiously make my way over to where she's still huddled against the side of the bed, watching me carefully with a laser focus, studying my movements so she knows how to react. I know she's hungry. Hell, she's got to be starving. The sedative I gave her had her knocked out for twelve hours —  which was five hours longer than expected.

"I brought some Tylenol too, to get rid of that headache." I bend down so that we're eye level, and her lip twitches as she glares at me and drops her chin.

There she is.

"Don't touch me again." She warns, a tiny flame igniting in her eyes.

There is a fight in her, and it sends a bomb off inside that spreads to every inch of me, spilling searing heat inside my blood until my cock hardens in my trousers from the challenge in her voice, suddenly awakened by her fierceness.

"Again?" I ignore the sudden ache below my waist and tilt my head, thinking. And then it hits me. She thinks I touched her while she was knocked out. She thinks she was molested — or raped. She's terrified of what happened to her while she was under.

"I haven't touched you." I say.

"I don't believe you." She curls her lip, "I know you drugged me."

"I gave you a tiny sedative to transport you, but I did not touch you. I want you to fight me when I fuck you. It'll be much more fun." I explain coldly, unapologetic. I know her head must be reeling because I'm a completely different man now than the one she met on the beach. She didn't see this side of me. Hell, if I'm being honest, I didn't even know this side of me existed. Just being near her is setting me off like a madman. She's the only sure-fire way to reprimand her brother for robbing me of my sister. She's the only way to take what he owes.

He pays through her.

"You're sick" She narrows her eyes and squeezes her legs tighter, as if that's going to save her from me. "How much did you pay for me?"

"I didn't pay a damn thing for you." I shrug carelessly with a dry chuckle. "I took you."

"If you think I'm going to be sex trafficked, you've got another thing coming." She spits.

She's in no place to make threats, but I can see that she means what she's saying. I can see an inferno in her soul through those pale blue eyes. And that fire makes me want to grab her by the throat and hold her down as I thrust my cock inside her. I want to put out that brave blaze. I want to douse the blue flames I see growing in her irises.  

"That's not what this is." I shake my head, feeling my palms twitch with an urge to clasp around her throat. It's thin, I could snap it easily without exerting myself.

But that would be too quick. 

"What is this?" She demands, confusion smoking over her vision.

"I haven't decided yet." I stare into her pretty pale face, thinking about slamming my mouth against those plump lips and plunging my tongue past her teeth. Knowing I've stolen her makes a new sensation build in my chest, filling me up with a sense of possession I haven't known before.

I bought her — paid for her with the blood of my sister, so I own her. I can do whatever the fuck I want to her, and that makes my head swim with fantasies of screwing her all over this room. The image of her face shoved into the mattress as I drill her from behind floods my brain until I feel a bead of cum drip inside my boxers at the very thought of slipping inside her.     

Her eyes bore into mine, and I know she sees where my attention has fallen. "I'm not just some random girl you stole from Mexico. I come from an immensely powerful family."

So, she'll use the family she hates as a threat to ward off predators, but she won't allow them to contact her? Her false sense of protection almost makes me laugh, but I hold back.

I know the family she originates from. She comes from a family of men who make their millions by manufacturing and selling weapons to terrorists. They create guns and sell them off to other countries, and they don't feel remorse as more senseless shootings appear on the evening news. They spread fear and war, and they have no trouble sleeping at night.

They execute those who get in their way.

They executed my sister, Olivia.

I should have checked that car six months ago one last time before Roman and I set off to crash the meeting between the Sparks' and the Russians. If I'd just looked in that damn trunk just one time, I would have caught Olivia trying to tag along. She would have never been able to climb out of the trunk when she did. She would have never exposed Roman and I, and Vincent would have never shot her before I had the chance to protect her. If I was faster, I could have reached her in time to jump in front of that bullet. If I'd had just killed the fucker like Roman shouted at me to do, Olivia would still be here. And Rowan wouldn't have to pay for her brother's sins. But instead, I got there just as her lifeless body fell to the cold concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse on the pier, gray eyes unfocused as I stared into her bloodied face. 

"Threats will do nothing except piss me off —  and you don't want that."

"You won't get away with this." She says calmer, trying to reason with me, as if there's anything to reason with. "Just let me go."

"I'm never letting you go, Rowan." I promise. "You're mine now —  and you will do as you're told. Hell, you'll get on your knees and bow to me if I say so."

"I will never bow to you." She grits her teeth and snickers, and when I see the embers glowing in her eyes again, I lash out and take her by the throat, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to put my hands on her. An urge I've never felt before. Maybe it has everything to do with the violent clawing inside me that wants to break her because she's strong in her own way. Maybe it has everything to do with the twisted idea of winning the battle I see in her face when she looks at me. Whatever has made me on edge around this woman leaves me unsettled.

And I don't fucking like it.  

"You will bow to me." My grip on her throat strengthens as I yank her closer, the feel of blood rushing through the vein in her neck warming my palm. "You will do whatever the fuck I tell you to or else you'll wish you'd never been fucking born. Do you understand me?"

The courage in her eyes doesn't waiver as I apply pressure around her throat. She continues to stare at me with disgust. I can feel how much she hates me, heat radiating off her body, burning through my flesh to my already hardening cock. I could push her down and take her right here. I could tear off her red lacey underwear and ram my cock so deep inside her that the sound of her cry rebounds off from the walls.

I want to.

Fuck, do I want to.

Assaulting women has never been my forte, but the fierce blaze in her eyes makes my cock harder than it's ever been before. All I can think about now is sliding inside her. I want to feel her velvet soft lips around my cock. I want to find out what she tastes like when she comes.

I fucking want her.

If she's still afraid of me, it doesn't show anymore. She lets me choke her, and she doesn't even try to escape me. I want to see how far she'll keep up the fight. I want to choke her until she digs her nails into my wrists for me to stop. I want to hear her cry for me. I want to see those beautiful tears stream down her face.

"Do it." She says with eyes as hard as stone. "because I'd rather die than be confined here with you for the rest of my life."

My fingers tingle because she's just challenged me, and I want to squeeze the consciousness out of her just to show her that I can. I want to watch her eyelids fall closed after I win this cat and mouse game against her and put her out of her misery.

"Do you still feel that I'm not bad" I bring my lips chillingly close to mock her, "or can you see now that I am?"