Alexius: Chapter 19

The water burns my skin as it cascades down my back. But I like it. I like how the heat stings my flesh and seeps through my pores. The water pulses from the showerhead and feels like drops of ice pricking my skin right before the burn spreads. Taking scorching hot showers helps me navigate through my thoughts, my emotions. I’m not sure why, but it’s been my escape since I was a child—the hot water washing off my mother’s insults that clung to my skin.

I clutch my knees tighter against my chest, the ache between my legs reminding me of what Alexius and I did. My mind gravitates to every single moment—every touch, every kiss, every painful delight he so expertly bathed me in while I lay beneath him, stretching my body to accommodate him…only him.

I don’t regret it. I gave my body to him freely. It wasn’t like you’d see in the movies where the guy takes it slow, his touch gentle and his first thrust unhurried and careful. Alexius was right. That’s not how I wanted it; I just never knew it before today—before the moment he pushed inside me, hard and unyielding, claiming me without any inhibitions or caution. It was exhilarating. The pain, pleasure, and whirlpool of sensations consumed me like a flood. There’s nothing like it.

Was it stupid of me to think I could resist a man like Alexius? A man mantled with power, cloaked with confidence, and veiled with sin. The perfect fucking trifecta.

A balloon of water sloshed on the shower floor as I squeezed my wet curls. Being a virgin, I always thought sleeping with a man for the first time would be the most challenging part of finally starting an active sex life. Not knowing what to expect, the anticipation of pain, and the lack of confidence because you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. But losing my virginity to Alexius was the easy part. The hard part came afterward when I realized that even though he was inside me and changed my body to fit him, it didn’t change anything between us. Our dynamic is still chained to the bargain we made—a deal I still hate now, only for an entirely different reason…and that reason is currently wreaking havoc on my insides, leaving me with no idea how to sort through it. I wouldn’t change it, though. Even if I had a magic wand or a clock to turn back time, I’d still let him fuck me.

Eventually, I drag my butt out from under the scalding water, the damp heat clinging to my skin. The mirror is fogged from the steaming shower, so I wipe my palm across it and catch sight of my reflection. A blue bruise sits on the side of my neck, the size of Alexius’ thumb, and I bite my lip, gently tracing a finger along the discolored skin. Something lights up inside me, a flicker of fever that excites me, thrills me—the idea of Alexius’ desire, his lust leaving a mark on my body. It’s like a blueprint of the places that entice him the most.

New desire blooms between my thighs, wanting to experience it again—the clawing, the desperate pawing, and the choking that left this bruise behind. But I want it harder; I want it to leave more profound marks on my skin. I want to look into the mirror every day, see the proof of his possession, and see how his touch burns and his kiss stains. The thought of his rough hands on my hips, his hard cock hurting and pleasuring me from the inside while I scream his name and writhe beneath him—it’s like a goddamn match, and all I want is fire.

I close my eyes, my thoughts taking me to a place deep within the darkness, a place where nothing can touch me, where I can give in to the most wicked of desires—fantasies labeled taboo in a world that consists of only black and white. Right and wrong with nothing in between. Nothing but me.

Flashes of Isaia’s naked body, his engorged cock bobbing as he circled the bed right before he fucked that woman from behind. God, the image is still so vivid. I can see every last detail—the way his abs flex with every thrust, sweat clinging to his smooth chest, the look of sheer dominant, primal possession while he fucked her. It was so raw, so fucking erotic seeing the lust in his eyes as he watched his cock slip in and out of her pussy.

And his eyes—brown orbs of dangerous confidence, and lines of unapologetic self-indulgence. He fucked her like he existed in a world where there was only sex. Lust. Gluttony. Claiming her even if it fucking hurts because all that matters is pleasure.

I see the image so clearly, like I’m still there standing by his bedroom door, watching. My heart is racing, and a whimper wafts from my lips when I see Alexius there, too, lying naked on the bed, his head propped up on a pillow. His entire demeanor is that of a god, every muscle carved to perfection, his cock hard and ready. Fuck, I know what that cock feels like inside me, and I’m desperate to feel it again.

Alexius glides his hands up the woman’s thighs as he allows her to straddle him, his long fingers now curling around her hips, and she moans. Only, the woman is me. I’m the one straddling him, brushing my palms down his naked chest, my body preparing to take him. And as I lift my hips, the head of his cock prodding my entrance, I feel Isaia’s warm skin against my back, arms snaking around my waist and cupping my breasts.

Both of them. They both want me.

My breath hitches, and I slip my hand beneath the towel, my pussy needing to be touched.

What would it feel like to be with both of them?

God. Who am I? What am I? I never knew this side of me even existed—a part of me that seems to need the darkness and craves the sin.

“Leandra, are you in here?”

I inhale sharply at the sound of Mirabella’s voice and knock one of the unused bottles of perfume off the bathroom cabinet. “Shit.”

“Leandra?”

“I’m in here,” I call, picking up the bottle from the floor, thankful it’s not broken. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“You’re wearing this tonight.” Mirabella stretches her arm out and into the bathroom without looking in, holding a sheer black lace dress in her hand.

“Uh, I have two questions. One, why am I wearing a dress tonight? Two, why will I be wearing a dress that’s small enough to hold in your palm?”

“Excuse me, there is more than enough fabric holding this ensemble together. Take it before I walk in and force it on you.”

I grab the dress from her hand and scowl with narrowed eyes. “You forgot about my first question. Why am I wearing a dress tonight?”

I slip on my white nightgown and walk into the bedroom, holding the black dress.

Mirabella looks amazing with her warm blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun, yet every strand seems perfectly placed. “You’re having dinner with Alexius,” she says calmly. Crossing one leg over the other, she watches me closely. “And that’s what you’ll be wearing.”

“Of course, he told you.” I roll my eyes and toss the dress at the end of the bed before sitting down next to Mira. “I don’t want to have dinner with him.”

“You don’t want to have dinner with him, or you don’t want to have dinner with him…alone?”

“Both. Neither. I don’t know.” I pull my fingers through my wet curls and fall back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

Mira does the same, and we both stare at the same exact spot. “You should have dinner with him.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“It will be nice.”

“It won’t.”

“You’ll enjoy it.”

“Never.”

Mira snickers. “Isn’t it odd that I’m here trying to convince you to have dinner with your husband?”

“This entire situation is beyond odd. In fact, I’ll find it odd when something normal happens around here.”

“True.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “At least there’s never a dull moment in this place.”

“I’m not sure I can survive this place.”

“This place? Or Alexius?”

“Both.” I turn my head to the side, looking at her. “How did you do it? How did you adapt to their world? Become a part of it?”

She bites the inside of her cheek, and there’s a shift in the air around her. “I’ve always been a part of it, just never in the middle of it.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes close for a moment before opening again. “My father was in the same line of business.”

I sit up on my elbows. “Sex clubs?”

“That, and other stuff.”

“What stuff?”

Her eyes find mine. “Drugs.”

My heart stops, and I can’t even swallow right. “Is the Dark Sovereign dealing with drugs, too?” The idea alone had bile swirling inside my stomach.

“Not anymore. Not after what happened to my parents. Alexius’ father, Vincenzo, stopped all the Dark Sovereign dealings with drugs after taking Maximo and me in.”

“What happened to your parents?” My voice is soft, and my heart is empathetic to the grief that resonates from her words because it’s something I can relate to, in a way. I’ve still yet to cry a single tear over my mother’s death.

She turns on her side and rests her head in her palm as she leans on her elbow. “My parents were murdered when I was still a child.”

“Oh, my God, Mira.”

“Along with my older brother. Maximo and I would be dead, too, if it weren’t for Vincenzo. His men showed up just in time to save us from the drug dealing fuckers who thought they could get their hands on my father’s drug shipments.”

My heart broke. “Mira, that’s terrible.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes glisten in the dim light as she draws lazy circles with her finger on the sheets. “That night, they brought Maximo and me here, Vincenzo promised us that he would never deal or have any involvement with drugs again.”

“And you believed him?”

“That’s one thing about the Del Rossa men, Leandra. Their word is their bond.” She sits up. “Vincenzo took us in, raised us as his own, and nothing I do will ever show just how thankful I am for that. Yeah, they’re not angels. Their power and wealth don’t come from being model citizens. But when it comes to matters that count, their hearts are in the right place. All of them.” Mira crosses her legs underneath her and tucks a stray curl behind her ear. “So, what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“Yeah. How is it that you got involved with someone like Alexius?”

I slip off the bed and clutch the nightgown tighter. “I’m just the girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and Alexius swept in, promising me a kind of freedom only money can give me if I agreed to be his wife.”

“Oh. Like Beauty and the Beast.”

“Well, kind of, yeah. If you want to romanticize it.”

Mira stands and smiles, her eyes beaming. “Now, wouldn’t it be fucking amazing for you two to have the same ending? Alexius, the beast, changed to his true form by true love.”

“Oh, my God. You are a hopeless romantic.”

“I am. There is nothing as beautiful as a true love story.”

I cock a brow. “Are you a princess waiting in a tower for her prince to rescue her?”

“That I am,” she states with a proud smirk. “Now, until my prince decides to come for me, let’s focus on you and your king.”

“Alexius is not my king or my Prince Charming.”

“Of course, he’s not Prince Charming.” Her nose wiggles as she frowns. “But he’s a king, nonetheless.”

“I don’t care.” I totally do care. “Our arrangement is temporary. I might not be from here, but I’m not naïve enough to think Alexius can be anything more for me. Besides, he’s a coldhearted jerk who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else, and I’d be really fucking stupid to fall for him.”

“Ah-hah!” she exclaims, pointing at me, her eyes in slits. “I knew you felt something for him.”

“What?”

“You do feel something for him.”

“No, I don’t. That’s absurd.” I turn my back on her. “I don’t know what the hell gives you that idea.”

“Oh, the fact that you have very strong feelings when it comes to him—even if it’s just hate at the moment.”

I spin back around. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Of course, it does.” She shrugs, holding her hands up. “Love and hate are both powerful emotions, and both can closely mimic one another in intensity. In fact, they can be so similar that some people don’t realize what it is they’re feeling. Love or hate is often the same thing since all it takes is a second, one moment in time, for it to change from one to the other. When there’s indifference, that’s when hope is lost.”

“That makes no sense.” It totally makes sense, and there’s a tightness in my chest, a feeling I’m desperately trying to ignore. “I don’t hate him, Mira. But I’m not stupid. My entire life has been one trainwreck, and I finally buried the pieces with my mother’s rotting corpse. I am not about to have Alexius destroy my life as well.”

The rapid breaths of air hardly reach my lungs, and my hands are pulled into tight fists.

Mira simply stares at me, her eyes a pool of pity and sympathy as she digests what just spilled from my mouth. “Your mother. She hurt you?”

I rub one hand up my other elbow. “Not physically,” I whisper.

“Sometimes it’s the emotional blows that hurt the most, and one finds oneself wishing for a fist rather than an insult or words meant to cause pain.”

“You sound like you know the feeling.”

Mira casts her eyes down, her shoulders lifting as she takes a deep breath. “I think we all have experienced something similar sometime in our lives.” She licks her rosy lips, studying me. “I want to ask you what happened to your mother, but I get the feeling she’s not something you’re ready to talk about.”

Pressing my lips in a thin line, I shake my head lightly. Today has already been a whirlpool of emotions, and the last thing I want is to throw the memory of my mother into the mix.

“Now—” Mira grabs the dress off the bed “—how about we get ready for your date with your husband?”

“It’s not. A date,” I press.

“Sure, it’s not.” There’s a smirk on her face that speaks a thousand words.

I cross my arms and scowl. “Why is it that whenever Alexius wants something done when it comes to me, he always tasks you with it?”

“Because he knows I have a way of getting what I want.” She shoots me a coy smile. “Can we get you dressed? I’ve already informed the kitchen of your menu for tonight. I’ve arranged for the patio to be set. Now, if I can get you ready in time, that will mean I aced all Alexius’ requests.”

“Demands, you mean?” I slant a brow.

“Requests.” Mira holds the dress in front of her, her face practically gleaming. “Let’s make sure he can’t keep his fucking eyes off you tonight.”

There is a light knock on the door, and she prances over to open it, one of the staff pushing in a trolley carrying an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne. “I arranged for some refreshments.” She winks, and I’m convinced this woman has been sent to help me pave my way to hell.