Wicked Savage: Chapter 39

“Are you ready?” Tiffany, one of the staff members, pulls me from my thoughts as she inspects my outfit.

The sheer white gown clings to me, the veil draped over my face.

Of course I’m not ready. This is insane.

“Yes,” I lie.

She surveys me one last time. “I’ll take you downstairs. Once you’re on stage, the bidding begins.” Checking her phone, she asks, “Dina is the name you want to go by, right?”

I nod.

“Good. We’re all set.”

The room suddenly feels too cold, like the walls are pressing in. A wave of anxiety climbs up my limbs, tightening around my shoulders.

What am I doing? What if this only makes things worse?

No. I’m not backing down. I refuse to marry a man who never wanted me.

“It’s time.” Tiffany interrupts my thoughts.

I nod, hands clammy, heels unsteady beneath me. “What happens after the winner’s announced?”

“Didn’t you read the contract?” She tsks. “You’ll go home with the winner, marry him, and the boss requires a copy of the marriage certificate.”

Oh, crap.

Anxiety sinks deep in my stomach.

“Right.” I fight the fear clawing at me.

“We need to go now.” She leads me toward the door. “It’s time.”

“Alright.” My voice falters, choking on the word.

I step out of the room, tears threatening behind my eyes. Once, I wondered what it would be like to be his wife. To be loved by him. But those dreams died when he walked away.

Every step through the foyer leaves me shivering, goose bumps rising on my bare arms.

You can do this. It’ll be quick.

As we step outside, all eyes turn toward me. The aisle is lined with spectators, and I feel the urge to run. When Tiffany feels my hesitation, she tightens her grip on my elbow.

“Keep walking,” she whispers.

Is Konstantin here? Will he realize it’s me? He’s going to be furious.

At the front, a man in a black suit and demon mask takes the microphone. “Please welcome our first bride, Dina. She’s twenty-three, speaks multiple languages, holds a business degree, and enjoys reading. Bidding starts at five hundred thousand.”

“Five hundred thousand,” a man calls.

Here we go.

The numbers climb higher, and I don’t even glance at the people bidding.

“Three million. Do I have three million?”

“Three million,” someone calls.

Can this be over already?

“Three million. Do I have four million?”

I glance at a man in a tailored gray suit, his arm around a woman.

My stomach churns. I can’t do this. Every part of me screams to run.

“Three million going once, going twice…”

I shut my eyes, an ache in my chest. In this moment, I’d do anything to feel his arms around me again. To hear him tell me how much he wants me.

“Going three times…”

“Ten million dollars.”

What the⁠—

My eyes snap open. That voice. I know it.

My throat tightens as I search the crowd. It can’t be him.

“Well…” The emcee chuckles. “That’s one way to bid. Ten million, going once, twice…”

And there he is.

Cillian.

A gasp escapes me. Our eyes lock, the tension in his body unmistakable as he strides toward the stage.

“Going three times.”

Cillian takes another step.

“Sold to this gentleman,” the emcee announces, waving toward Cillian. “Come collect your bride.”

He doesn’t waste a second, marching up the steps and wrapping his arm around my waist as he leans in to whisper in my ear. “You’ve been a very naughty fiancée. I hope you’re ready for your punishment.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I mutter, ignoring his fake smile for the crowd.

He pulls me down the stairs, and a woman scans our masks before allowing us to pass.

“I’d much rather fuck you instead.”

“That’s never happening again.”

“It’s funny how you say that every time, yet we always find ourselves in bed all over again.”

We make it back into the house, and as soon as we do, he opens the first door through the foyer and drags me inside. The bedroom is empty, as though he somehow knew it would be.

He locks the door behind him, pressing his body against the wall as I instinctively step back, my pulse racing at the intensity in his gaze.

With a swift motion, he removes his mask. His eyes darken with anger and something else—desire. My body tightens in response.

“Take off your clothes.” The command lands like a slow, sensual caress.

A shiver runs through me. He closes the distance between us, tilting my chin with the back of his hand, his gaze dark and hungry.

“You need to be taught a lesson.” His thumb swipes across my lips. “I won’t ask again.”

“Take off your clothes,” I repeat, trying like hell to control the fury simmering in my blood.

When Konstantin called earlier to tell me she was joining the marriage auction, I thought he was fucking with me. I’d already planned on showing up to keep an eye on her, but when the call came as I walked into the mansion, I couldn’t believe it.

How could she do this? Did she think I’d just let her marry someone else?

When I saw her on that stage with other men bidding for her, every part of me wanted to tear them apart. But I waited. Waited for the perfect moment to stake my claim.

My gaze wanders down her curves, every inch of her visible to prying eyes through that damn see-through nothing of a dress.

“You thought you could walk away from me and I’d let you go?”

Her arms round her body as she stands there, head held high.

A smirk curls over my face, my thumb brushing over her fuckable mouth. My lips lower, barely grazing hers.

“You’re such a bad little wife. You know what happens to bad girls, right?” When she doesn’t answer, I do it for her. “They get punished.”

“I’m not your wife.” The words are laced with vitriol.

A finger feathers between the swell of her breasts. “But you will be.”

Her lips pull up. “What would you have done if you’d lost? If I’d become someone else’s.”

Gripping her chin, my teeth snap. “I’ll kill anyone who takes what belongs to me. And you, leannan? You belong to me.”

I back away, but the strength in her features is unwavering.

“Strip.” I tug on the thin strap of her gown. “Before I do it for you.”

Her hands drift to the straps of her dress, gliding them down her shoulders with agonizing slowness. The fabric slips lower, inch by inch, revealing the soft curves of her breasts, her nipples tightening in the cool air. Every glimpse of bare skin is a gift, a temptation I can never resist.

I’ll never get enough of her.

The dress falls at her feet until she’s in nothing but her heels.

My cock jerks.

Fuck.

“Mask off too.”

She starts to slide it up, and when I see her, all of her, my damn heart just about rips from my chest. My fingers reach for her curves, gliding down from her sternum to her pretty cunt, her skin shivering under my touch.

“You were gonna give all this to someone else?” I cup her pussy, my eyes locked with her unrelenting gaze. “This is mine, Dinara. All mine.”

“I don’t belong to you.” The challenge in her tone only makes me want her more.

Two fingers slide inside her, thrusting deep. When she moans, a dry chuckle falls from my chest, and I fist her hair with my free hand, pulling her head back.

“Oh, you do belong to me. For the rest of your life. I can guarantee it.”

“How the hell did you find me?” She tugs on her bottom lip when I massage her G-spot, pressing deeper until her body quivers.

“Konstantin told me.”

“Bastard. Both of you…” she grits. “Oh God!”

A feminine cry escapes her. So damn sexy and needy for it. I flick her clit, her core hot and wet for me. She gasps when I do it again, mouth parting, eyes filled with want.

“This is the last time I will say this, so you’d better listen, Mrs. Quinn.”

At the mention of her new name, her jaw clenches, causing me to smirk.

“You don’t so much as allow another man to look at you. This body is mine. If you disobey, there’ll be no stopping what I do.”

“You’d hurt me?” Her stare narrows.

Gently, I lift a loose strand of her hair and push it behind her ear. “I could never hurt you, baby. Now, him? Well, that would be completely up to you. Behave, and no one has to die. Don’t, and his blood will be on your pretty hands.”

“I hate you,” she hisses, fighting the orgasm burning through her limbs.

My thumb strokes her jaw while I continue to drive her wild, thrusting harder and deeper. “That’s okay. You’ll learn to love me.”

A raspy laugh escapes her lips. “Doubt it.”

“We’ll see about that.” Without hesitation, I pull her toward the bed, tossing her over my knee with a force that leaves no room for argument.

My cock presses into her stomach, causing me to wince as my palm spanks her hard across her bare ass. She cries out when I do it again.

“You’re gonna take your punishment like a good girl.” Another hard slap hits across her flesh, her skin growing pink under my rough touch. “Because you deserve it, don’t you, baby?”

When she doesn’t answer, I tug on her hair, snapping her head back, and her eyes lock on mine.

“I asked you a question.”

“Screw you.” Her eyes flash with a fierce mix of wrath and desire. I can almost feel it radiating off her in waves.

When my fingers slide into her wet cunt, she groans, hips jerking off of me. I spank her again, stroking her in between each strike until she’s dripping down my fingers, her orgasm so close, I can taste it.

Just when she’s about to come, I stop, dragging her up to her feet.

“You’re such an asshole.” Her nostrils flare as I step back, adjusting my trousers to ease the strain of my arousal.

She shifts, pressing her thighs together, desperate for what I won’t give her.

“Put your damn dress back on.”

With a huff, she picks it up and slips it over herself.

I rip off my suit jacket, draping it around her body like it’s the only thing that can shield her from the storm brewing between us. “You’re coming home with me.”

She stares, eyes wide. “What?”

I step closer, my voice low and strained. “That’s right. You won’t be living with Konstantin anymore. I’m taking you to Massachusetts.”

She stiffens, her eyes flashing with rage. “Not happening.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes, rough and unforgiving. “Good thing I’m not asking for your permission.”

Her nostrils flare, that frustration echoing in the small space between us. Without another word, I wrap my arm around her waist, tugging her close as I guide her through the door. She heads to the room where she got ready, removing the dress she had on and sliding into the one she arrived in, the fabric clinging to her body like it’s meant to be there. My gaze follows her every movement, not missing a single detail.

She knows I’m watching. I’m not going to let her slip away. Not again.

When she’s ready, I take her hand, but she roughly slides out of my grasp. The chilly night air bites at my skin as we approach the car, her purse already waiting for her in the passenger side.

“When did you get this from the limo?” she asks as I help her in and clip the seat belt around her, because she’s mine to protect.

“When I spoke to Konstantin.”

She doesn’t look at me as I settle into my seat, her eyes set forward, filled with a quiet storm of anger and something darker. Something that cuts deeper than any words could.

My hand finds her thigh, and I feel her tense, like she’s bracing herself. She’s not ready for this—for what’s coming—but it doesn’t matter.

I leave my hand there, letting the pressure of my touch sink into her, knowing it’s just the beginning. The silence between us is thick, a barrier we can’t seem to break.

But I can feel it in my bones: this is happening.

We’re happening.

And she can either accept it or fight me. Either way, I’m ready.