Maeve
At sixteen, I learned my fate.
On my twenty-first birthday, I wouldn't be celebrating—I'd be handed over as payment for my parents' sins.
I fought. I rebelled. I tried to escape.
None of it mattered.
Now I belong to him.
And my life is no longer my own.
Draven
I never wanted the deal.
But the moment I saw her, I knew one thing—she was mine.
I won't break her. I won't hurt her.
I'll protect her.
Earn her trust.
Make her choose me ... even if she has no choice at all.
But someone wants her dead.
And if her own family would rather see her buried than delivered to me…
What aren't they telling me?
Because I'm already too far gone.
Maeve is mine.
And I'm not letting her go.
Excerpt:
“I’m about to call for lunch,” he said, stopping when he caught sight of me. “Care to join me?”
“Sure.”
I’m trying to act casual. I’m wearing a simple white summer dress, with straps wide enough to cover my bra straps, but it only falls to my knees.
Draven walked into his office, holding the door open for me, and I walked past him and to one of the sofas. He has two, on either side of a coffee table. Near the main window sits his desk.
“How are you?” Draven asked.
It’s nice to know his name. “I’m good.”
Draven sits down opposite me, and I can’t help but watch him. His gaze is on me as well.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Thirty-five.”
“Wow,” I said.
“Does my age bother you?”
“No.” I happened to like the fact he was older. Not that I had been around a lot of men my own age, but I had seen a lot of movies to know they were not exactly mature. Draven looked mature.
“How is your neck?” he asked.
“Fine.”
His sleeves are rolled up, showing off his thick, heavily inked arms.
“Did you like getting tattoos?” I asked.
He sat back and looked at me. “Did you?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I asked you first.”
“And seeing as I am the oldest, you will answer me.”
“Yes, I did. They hurt, but then a needle digging into your flesh is going to hurt.”
He chuckled. “I rather like the pain. After a while, I didn’t feel it.”
“That was the same for me.”
I don’t want to talk about ink, or pain.
“Maeve, come here,” he said.
In that moment, I was like a moth to a flame. I walk around the coffee table and stand right in front of him.
At first, Draven doesn’t move or make a sound, but then he takes hold of my hand. He strokes his finger across my inner wrist, and it felt so good, I didn’t want it to stop.
“Tell me what is going on in that mind of yours,” he said.
“Nothing.”
“You think I don’t see the interest in your eyes, Maeve?” he asked. “Do you think I didn’t notice you were looking at me from your bedroom window, or that last night you wriggled against my dick because you felt how hard I was getting?”
I thought I had been subtle, but I felt him pressing against me, and I had enjoyed it.
The moment he tugged on my wrist, I didn’t fight and instead fell against him. Draven is a man in charge and knows what he wants. He moves my knees into position so that I straddle him.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, both his hands at my hips as he held me in place.
I feel the hard ridge of his cock, even through his pants.
“Yes.”
I don’t fight him, and I’m not afraid. Draven has already proven he doesn’t want to hurt me, so I place my hands on his shoulders and stare into his eyes, refusing to look away. He has intense brown eyes. I had a feeling they were probably scary to look at, especially if he was staring at an enemy. I was not his enemy.
I’d never been this bold with a man. I had learned to fight, and I had gone dancing. I rebelled in the hope of changing my fate, but nothing was going to help me. My fate had been sealed long before I was even born.
I was going to belong to Draven Adams. From the age of sixteen, I’d been so pissed about that. I hadn’t even known his name, nor who he was, just that I was going to be owned by a man. I would mean nothing. I would be nothing, and there was no way I would be able to change that.
Now, I am so happy to be owned by him. I know it is crazy and fucking stupid. All this time, I should have been looking for a way to escape, but why? I am happy. I know there were probably many people that had been in my position who were dead now. I was lucky. Draven had no intention of killing me. I didn’t know exactly what he was going to do to me, but I also didn’t care.
Cupping his face, I feel bold, like I am tired of holding back. For a long time, I have wanted to scream and keep it in place, and now I close that small distance between us and kiss him. I kiss my captor, and I don’t let go.
I love the feel of his lips against mine, and one of the hands on my hips slides up and grips the back of my neck. I hesitate, expecting the fear to come flooding back, but he’s holding the back of my neck, and the other hand is gripping my hip tightly. There is no mistaking what is going on right now. Draven is touching me. I want his hands all over me, touching me, exploring me.
There is a knock at the door, and I pull away.
“Fuck off,” Draven said, growling the words.
“That’s not very nice,” I said.
“I’m not a very nice man.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to argue with him, but all too soon, Draven has his hands on my waist, and he’s spun me around so that my back is to him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
