𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝑅𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛

•16•

The room was heavy with a tense, almost electric silence as Kailani's brush moved slowly across the canvas. Her hands were shaky, weakened by the drugs I'd given her, making her every movement soft and uncertain.

My hungry eyes never left her, devouring every detail of her.

I moved closer, my huge body casting a shadow over her small frame. I reached out with a gloved hand, tracing the line of her jaw, feeling the softness of her skin beneath the cool leather. I brought my hand under her chin, tilting it up to guide her to look at me, her doe eyes flicking up to meet my dark eyes.

My fingers slid down her throat, feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse under my touch as I continued my exploration, my hand trailing lower, down to her collarbone, then over the delicate curve of her shoulder. She was so soft, so warm, so mine.

I slid my other hand down her side, my touch firm, possessive, as I traced the curve of her small waist, then lower, gripping her wide hip with a roughness that made her shudder. She was breathing harder now, her innocence fighting against the storm of sensations I was forcing on her.

My hand slid down to her thigh, gripping the soft flesh, I squeezed, my fingers digging into her skin, and she let out a soft whimper, her body instinctively pressing back against me, seeking some form of relief from the overwhelming sensations.

"You're mine, Kailani," I thought, my hand sliding up her thigh, pushing the fabric of the shirt higher. Her breath caught in her throat as I continued to touch her, rougher now, more insistent.

I moved my hand to her other thigh, spreading her legs slightly, feeling the warmth between them, the heat that made my blood boil with desire. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back against my abs, her eyes half-closed as I continued to touch her, my fingers tracing the edge of her underwear, teasing, taunting. She was trembling in my arms, her body betraying her with every shiver, every soft moan that slipped from her lips.

I moved my hand up, trailing over her stomach, then back to her chest, brushing over the curve of her breast. She whimpered, her body arching into my touch, her innocence slowly crumbling under the weight of her own desire. She was so responsive, so perfect, and she didn't even understand what I was doing to her.

I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer like a rag doll, I leaned forward, wrapping my huge, muscular bicep around her throat, then squeezing. Her breath hitched then fanned over my veins and tattoos as she took her last exhale, and I watched, mesmerized, as her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting in a silent plea. I squeezed just enough to make her feel it, to remind her of my control, and she let out a small, choked whimper, her body going limp in my arms, completely at my mercy.

I loosened my grip, trailing my hand back down to her chest, my touch rougher now, more demanding. I wanted her to feel every inch of me, to understand that she was mine in every possible way. I slid my hand under her nightgown, pushing it up, exposing more of her skin, and she moaned softly, her back arching

The brush in her hand dropped to the floor with a soft clatter, forgotten as she tried to make sense of the sensations overwhelming her.

Her head lolled back against my chest, her eyes half-lidded, glazed with confusion and innocence. She looked up at me, her lips slightly parted, as if she wanted to say something, to plead with me, but no words came. She didn't need to speak. I could see it all in her eyes-her innocence, her desperation, her growing dependence on me. It only made me want to claim her even more.

The image of her teacher's lifeless body flashed in my mind, a dark thrill coursing through me at the memory. I had done it for her, killed that woman so that Kailani could paint with something that truly connected her to me. The blood in those jars was a gift, a sacrifice to our bond.