Dark Christmas: Chapter 18

He leads me up the stairs, all the way to the top floor of the house.

He stops in front of a door at the end of the hall and turns to me with a small smile. “I have a space for you, for your writing.”

My mouth drops as he opens the door, revealing a tower room I didn’t even know existed. I step inside and wow—the room is adorable, cozy but not cramped, with big windows that give a stunning view of the city below. Light floods into the space, bouncing off the soft-colored walls and wooden floors. It’s like this hidden magical hideaway all for me.

I gasp, stepping further inside. “Holy shit. This is gorgeous.”

Melor chuckles softly behind me. “I figured if you’re going to be stuck here for a while, you might as well have a place where you can work. Write your book. Think of it as your own little private corner of the house.”

The room is completely devoid of furniture, and I raise an eyebrow, glancing back at Melor.

“You can spend the day picking out whatever you want,” he says “We can’t leave the house, obviously, but you can shop online and order what you like. It’ll be here by tomorrow.”

I blink. Did this man just give me a blank check to decorate my own dream room? “You’re telling me I can just… go wild?”

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I want you to have a space that’s yours. A place where you can tap into your creative spirit. Have at it and order what you like, make it feel like home.”

My heart does a weird little flutter at that. I glance around the room, already picturing what I could do with it. “Can I grab some stuff from my house, too?”

“Anything you want, if it helps you feel more comfortable.”

I walk over to the windows, and I’m stunned again when I catch sight of the view of the city stretches all the way to the bay. It’s so breathtaking it makes me gasp.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“I’ll be around if you need anything.”

Once he leaves, I turn back to the window and stare out at the city below.

This nightmare is turning into a dream.

Three weeks later…

I stand in the middle of the grand chamber, glaring at the luxurious “prison” I’ve been forced into.

The stone walls are cold, but the bed is fit for a queen—high posts, velvet curtains wrapping around a luxurious cloud-like mattress covered in embroidered pillows and handmade quilts. A fire crackles in the hearth. I suppose it’s all by design, to make me feel better about being locked away here.

I march over to the window, pulling back the heavy drapes. Of course, I’m in the highest tower. The view is stunning—rolling hills, the forest stretching as far as the eye can see, a river running right through the middle of it all.

Despite its beauty, it’s nothing more than a reminder of how far away I am from freedom.

I glance down at the dress they’ve squeezed me into—a ridiculous, over-the-top gown that’s more gold thread than actual fabric—beautiful proof that I’m just a shiny piece in someone’s game.

I know why I’m here. My family got me tangled up in their political web, trying to curry favor with the duke. I’ve never even met the man, yet here I am, stuck in his tower like some prized fairy-tale princess.

I grip the edge of the windowsill, staring out at the horizon. What I wouldn’t give to be able to run out there, to feel the wind in my hair, the earth under my feet.

To be free.

Just as I’m about to start planning my great escape, the door creaks open behind me.

I whip around, gasping at the sight of who it is.

The duke is tall and broad-shouldered, both refined and dangerous at the same time. His salt-and-pepper hair is cropped short, and his neatly trimmed beard gives him a sexy vibe—like a brilliant professor who’s secretly plotting your downfall.

His clothes are perfectly tailored—a dark, high-collared coat with silver buttons that gleam in the firelight, slacks that cling to his thick, muscular legs, and boots polished to a shine. Every inch of him screams power.

But it’s his eyes that give me the greatest pause. Dark and intense, sharp enough to cut through steel.

I’ve heard the stories; everyone has. The duke is ruthless, to say the least. His reputation on the battlefield is legendary—it’s been said he destroys his enemies without hesitation or mercy.

And then there are the whispers about his insatiable thirst for women.

He steps in, closing the door behind him, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Are you finding the accommodations to your liking, my lady?”

“They’re fine,” I say, keeping my voice steady though my heart is racing. “But I want to leave.”

He laughs and takes a step closer, then another. He’s right in front of me now, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “Not until I get what I want.”

My breath catches. “And what is it you want?”

He’s mere inches away now, towering over me, his presence nearly suffocating. He smirks. “Isn’t it obvious?” His eyes scan me up and down, dark, and hungry. “I want you.”

I want to resist him; I should resist him. But my body betrays me—I’m already soaking through my underthings, every part of me tingling.

His lips curl into a wicked grin. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “And now, you’re all mine.”

I swallow hard, trying to hold onto some shred of defiance. “You’ll never have me,” I manage to say, my voice hesitant and weak.

He grins as he sweeps his hand around the lavish room. “Can’t you see? You’re already mine. Look around. I already have you.”

I shake my head, trying to ignore the pounding in my chest. “No. I’ll resist you every step of the way.”

“Resist me?” he chuckles, and I can feel his breath on my skin. “I can tell that’s not what you want.”

My cheeks flush hot, and I tilt my chin up, challenging him. “Prove it.”

His eyes darken, a flicker of raw hunger crossing his face. And then, without warning, he grabs me, pulling me hard against his chest, crashing his lips into mine. The kiss is rough, demanding, his grip growing firmer as he takes what he wants. My knees weaken, my resolve crumbling beneath his intensity.

I pull away, breathless, my mind a blur, my body on fire. I’m so aroused I can barely think straight.

“I can’t feel this way about you,” I stammer, my heart racing. “You’re a blackguard, a killer.”

He grins, that dangerous smirk that both terrifies and thrills me. “That’s exactly what turns you on, isn’t it?”

I’m speechless. No man has ever dared to speak to me like this, especially not a lady of my station. His words shock me to my core, leaving me momentarily frozen.

Without another word, he moves in and effortlessly scoops me up, cradling me against his chest as he strides toward the bed. My pulse quickens even more, my breathing shallow.

“What are you going to do?”

His eyes gleam with dark intent as he lays me down on the bed, his body hovering over mine. “I’m going to do what you’ve been fantasizing about since we met,” he growls, his voice thick with desire.

I want to protest, to deny it, but I can’t. He’s got me pegged, reading my every thought like an open book. Before I can find the words to argue, his hands are on me, sliding up my dress, moving along the curve of my thigh, sending shivers up my spine.

When his hand reaches my slip, my body arches against him, a moan slipping from my lips. I’ve never been touched like this before, and every inch of me is aching for more.

His fingers tease my womanhood, exploring me in a way no one ever has. My body becomes alight with want, a frenzy of need building inside me, and I can see the dark satisfaction in his eyes as he watches me come undone beneath his touch. He loves the control he has over me.

“What do you want?” he growls, his voice low and thick with dominance.

I can’t help it; the words slip from my lips before I can stop them.

“I want more. More of this. More of you.”

His smirk widens, and he climbs on top of me, his weight pressing me into the bed as he grinds his manhood against me. The heat between us is unbearable, and my hands move on their own, undoing the front of his pants. The moment his hardness leaps into my hand, I moan, my body trembling with anticipation. I guide him to my entrance, ready for him to take me completely.

He begins to slide in, and—

CLANG!

A loud crash jolts me back to reality.

A damn garbage truck slams its way down the street below. I blink, shaking my head, and realize I’m in my writing room, fully dressed, laptop open in front of me. I stare down at the page, the scene I’d been crafting vivid and intense, so real I’d forgotten where I was for a moment.

‘Jesus,’ I mutter to myself. Talk about being in the zone.

I stand up and stretch, feeling the satisfying pop in my back. A smile spreads across my face as I glance at my laptop. Holy shit, I’ve written more in the last few weeks since moving in than I have all year. I lean back in my chair, grinning.

“Thanks for the inspo,” I mutter to myself, thinking of the handsome, brooding man I’m currently living with. Melor, the muse behind my fictional Duke Allsbrook—a deadly, sexy force of nature.

I take a moment to look around my writing room. It’s perfect. There’s greenery everywhere, potted plants on the windowsill, ivy trailing down the bookshelves that are packed with every writing guide I need. The napping couch has been a lifesaver, allowing me to regroup and reset whenever I need to.

But honestly, the real game-changer has been Melor. He’s made sure I don’t want for anything. Whether it’s coffee, food, a new writing guide or notebook, it just magically appears. It’s like having a personal assistant that looks like he just stepped out of a GQ spread. Oh, and is also a trained killer.

I laugh to myself. If I could only forget that pesky little detail about my life being in constant danger, this setup would be downright dreamy.

As I make my way to the second floor, I catch myself thinking about the last few weeks. It’s been a weird mix of normal and completely surreal. For instance, last night I made dinner for Melor. Nothing fancy, just baked chicken and roasted potatoes, but he seemed to love it. It felt so… domestic.

After dinner we watched the movie Crazy, Stupid, Love, laughing at the ridiculousness of Ryan Gosling trying to coach Steve Carell into being a ladies’ man. It actually felt like we were in a real relationship, not just two people hiding out, especially seeing as we had sex afterward.

I shiver at the memory, smiling to myself as I save my work and close my laptop. There was a moment last night when he was on top of me, his hand sliding between my thighs, his fingers doing that thing that makes me lose my mind. He kept a slow, torturous pace, whispering in my ear, telling me how he loved the way I was falling apart beneath him.

And then, just when I couldn’t take it anymore, he moved faster, and I came so hard I swear I saw stars.

It’s been easy at times to forget the danger lurking outside these walls, the reason I’m even here.

My phone buzzes, yanking me away from my thoughts. It’s Claire. I can already feel the excitement in her as I answer.

“Amelia! How’s the class going? Tell me everything!”

I bite my lip, scrambling to come up with false details. “Oh, it’s amazing,” I say, keeping it short and sweet so as not to trip myself up in more lies. “I’m learning a lot.”

“I’m so glad you’ll be back on Monday. Susie’s been great, but I miss my partner in crime.”

“I miss you, Claire Bear.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. But seriously, I can’t wait to see you and hear all about your trip.”

“Me, too,” I force out, trying to match her energy. We say our goodbyes and I step into the kitchen.

I hate lying to her, but if it’s what I need to do to keep her safe, I’ll do it.