The lock clicks, and the sound vibrates through the mattress and straight into my bones. I pull the duvet to my chin, my heart pounding against my ribs as Telvin steps into the room. He doesn't turn on the light. He doesn't have to. The moonlight slicing through the heavy curtains is enough to show me the predator has arrived.
He stands at the foot of the bed, a monolithic shadow in a million-dollar suit. I can smell him from here. A man you don't have to see, but can smell his arrival. Smells of oud, sandalwood, power and longevity.
"You're awake," he says. His voice is a low, jagged rasp.
"Wh … what do you want, Telvin," I whisper, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to be brave.
He doesn't move. "I saw you with Marcus today. I saw the way he touched your hand, Jatavia. I saw the way you leaned into his 'kindness'." He spits the word like it's poison.
"He was comforting me! My mother is dead, Telvin! Do you even care?"
In a blur of motion, he's at the side of the bed. He doesn't sit; he looms. He grabs my wrists, his large, calloused hands pinning them to the headboard. The suddenness of it steals my breath. His face is inches from mine, his eyes dark, wild, and starving.
"I've spent six years watching you from the shadows," he growls, his chest heaving. "Six years of imagining exactly how you'd look in this bed, under my roof. You think I'm going to let some boy touch what belongs to me?"
"I … what ? No … I don't belong to you!" I struggle, my legs tangling in the silk sheets as I try to kick him away, but he is a mountain. He presses his body weight against mine, pinning me down.
"The debt is the only reason you're alive," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, sending a terrifying spark of heat through my blood. "I've hungered for you since you were a girl in a music room. Now you're a woman, and you're in my house. Tell me, Dazzling Star... tell me you don't feel the way the air burns when I'm near you."
"I … I don't feel anything for you, I … I hate you," I stutter out, even as my body betrays me, my pulse leaping under his thumb.
"Hate me then," he whispers, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of my neck. He doesn't kiss me, he marks me, his teeth grazing my skin. "But you will burn for me. Only me."
The intensity is suffocating. He is an overbearing force, his hands sliding down to my waist, crushing me against him. I can feel the heat as my heart pounds and I know he can hear it. He's like a lion that has finally cornered his prey, and he has no intention of letting go.
"Please," I whimper, my head falling back. "Telvin, stop..."
"Make me stop," he challenges, his lips hovering over mine. "Tell me you don't want my hands on you. Tell me you aren't starving for the touch of a man, tell me you don't want it. I want to make you want me … Yes me … Only me!"
I can't speak. I'm drowning in the scent of him, the power of him. He is charming in the most dangerous way possible, and for a second, I almost stop fighting. But then he pulls back, his eyes searching mine with a look of pure possession.
"Go to sleep," he says abruptly, letting me go. "You live in my world now, no man can ever make you feel the way I will make you feel."
I tremble as he says those words, my fingers shaking, my heart racing, like it is about to explode. He is insanely good looking but I cannot fall for this insane man. I tell myself. This man who is after me, for the so-called debts of my father, I just cannot.
CHAPTER 4: THE PREDATOR'S HUNGER (PART 2)
Morning brings no relief, only the cold reality of my grief. I spend the hours in a daze, tears tracking silent paths down my face as I mourn my mother. Marcus comes by, his presence brings peace, though I still feel alone in this world.
By evening, I can't stay in that room anymore. I need a phone. I need a way out. I slip into the library, hoping the maze of books will hide me.
I'm scanning the shelves when the temperature in the room seems to rise ten degrees. A hand slams against the shelf beside my head.
"Running again?" Telvin's voice is a low vibration at my nape.
He turns me around, pinning me against the books. This time, there is no restraint. He looks at me like a man who hasn't eaten in years.
"Why me, Telvin?" I whisper, my hands flat against his chest, feeling the frantic rhythmic thud of his heart against my palm. "If it's just about money, why this?"
"It was never about the money," he says, his voice thick with a desperate hunger. He leans in, his body molding to mine until I can feel the heat of his thighs, the strength of his frame. He is overpowering me, his scent and his presence acting like a drug. " It was always about bringing you back to where you belong."
He kisses me then, a hard, demanding kiss that tastes of bourbon and obsession. I fight him at first, my fists thumping his shoulders, but his hands move to my jaw, holding me still as he drinks from me. The sexual tension is electric, a primal pull that makes me weak in my knees.. He's so beautiful, so intense, and the way he touches me, for a moment, I lose my five senses.
He pulls me close, he uses his hand to trace my thigh. He slips his hand in between my thighs, he slips my undergarment to a side, then he puts his fingers in slowly. I shiver, my legs trembling, as his fingers begin to move.
At first, he is gentle, with his touch. His touch feather-light and teasing, forcing me to focus on nothing but the friction. "Tell me to stop," he murmurs against my lips, "and I'll consider it. But your body is a liar, Dazzling Star. It's begging me for this."
I can't find my voice. The slow, rhythmic pressure of his fingers is a torture of its own kind. Then, the tempo changes. He isn't teasing anymore. The movements become firm, faster, and more desperate, mirroring the racing beat of my heart against his ribs. The intensity is a tidal wave, pulling me under until the library, the debt, and the grief all blur into a haze of white-hot sensation.
He's overpowering me, his strength and his charm acting like a drug. I am lost in the "human uncertainty" of it all, the fear of his power clashing with the magnetic pull he has over my soul.
But as his hand slides up my thigh, the weight of my grief crashes back down.
"Please!" I cry out, a sob breaking the kiss. "Telvin, please... stop!"
He doesn't stop. He buries his face in my neck, his breath hot. "You're mine, Jatavia. Every inch."
"My mother is dead!" I scream, the words finally stopping him. "She's cold, Telvin! Have some mercy... please... leave me alone!" Hoping this will make him leave me.
The lion freezes.
He stays buried in my neck for a long, agonizing beat, his chest heaving against mine. Slowly, with a jagged intake of breath, he pulls back. The predatory madness in his eyes is replaced by a cold, sharp flash of respect, or perhaps guilt. He looks at my tear-stained face, and for the first time, he looks humanly shaken.
"Jatavia..." he starts, his voice rougher than I've ever heard it.
A sharp knock shatters the silence. "Mr. Bellarie? The Baltimore Merger representatives are at the gate. They say it's urgent. They won't leave without a meeting."
Telvin closes his eyes, his vein lines visible in his hands. He looks at me, one last, long, starving look. "This isn't finished. Stay here. Do not move from this library."
He turns and strides out, his boots echoing like gunshots against the floor.
I don't stay. I count to ten, my heart screaming, and then I look at the open library window. The night air is cold, but it doesn't smell like Bellarie. It smells like freedom.
An hour later, Telvin returns, his tie loose, his eyes searching like he is looking for his prey.
"Ja … Jatavia?"
The room is empty. A single book lies open on the floor.
"Jatavia!" he roars, the sound echoing off the walls, like a physical blow. Then, a dark, twisted smile pulls at his lips. "Are you playing hide and seek with me, baby doll? Fine. Let's play."