The night air was heavy with humidity as Brandon carried Ariana through the shadowed back halls of the club, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her face tucked into the crook of his neck.
She was boneless in his arms, dazed from the violence of her climax, the brutal tenderness of his possession.
He didn't let her go.
Not when they exited through a private door into the silent parking lot.
Not when the black SUV pulled up, and one of his men opened the door with a respectful nod.
Brandon climbed inside with Ariana still clinging to him.
Only when the doors slammed shut, sealing them away from the world, did he allow himself to loosen his grip.
But he didn't let her far.
She sat straddling his lap, the remains of her dress slipping dangerously low on her shoulders.
Her flushed skin glowed in the low light, her hair wild from his hands.
Brandon leaned back, studying her.
Every mark on her skin made his blood hum with savage satisfaction.
"You're not going back to that apartment," he said roughly, dragging a knuckle down the side of her face.
Ariana blinked at him, still dazed. "But—"
"No," he growled, his hands tightening on her hips. "It's not safe."
She searched his face, sensing the storm brewing beneath his words.
"You think they'll come for me?" she whispered.
"I know they will," he said grimly. "They already tried tonight."
She shivered, pressing closer to him instinctively.
Brandon smoothed a hand down her back, feeling the fragile tremor in her muscles.
"I won't let them touch you," he promised, his voice a dark vow.
Ariana bit her lip, her mind a whirl of fear and confusion—and something else.
A dangerous, reckless trust.
"Where are we going?" she asked finally.
"Home," he said simply.
His real home.
Not the penthouse.
Not a hotel or club.
His fortress.
Ariana felt the weight of that word settle over her.
Home.
With Brandon.
She should've been terrified.
Instead, she felt... safe.
In a twisted, broken way.
The SUV sped through the night, leaving the city lights behind.
Tall trees loomed on either side of the road, the world falling away in the darkness.
Eventually, they turned down a private drive lined with stone pillars and iron gates.
The gates swung open without a sound, revealing a sprawling estate hidden among the trees.
A mansion of cold stone and sharp angles, beautiful and brutal—just like him.
The SUV pulled up to the front steps, and Brandon climbed out, carrying her like she weighed nothing.
Guards lurked in the shadows, armed and watchful, but none dared approach as Brandon swept Ariana into the house.
The interior was just as stunning—dark wood, rich leather, gleaming marble floors—but Ariana barely noticed.
All she could focus on was him.
He set her down in a vast bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the forest.
The bed was massive, draped in black sheets.
A den for a king.
Or a monster.
"You're safe here," Brandon murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"With you," she whispered without thinking.
His eyes flared with heat.
"Always with me," he said hoarsely.
He kissed her again, softer this time.
Less possession, more worship.
Ariana melted into him, letting the kiss deepen, slow and languorous, like drowning in honey.
When he finally pulled back, she was panting.
"Undress for me," he commanded softly.
Her heart stuttered.
She hesitated for only a second before obeying.
Piece by piece, she shed the ruined dress, standing before him in nothing but her ruined panties and heels.
Brandon sat on the edge of the bed, watching her like a predator.
"Come here," he rasped.
She stepped between his spread legs, trembling under the weight of his gaze.
He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and ripped them down her legs, tossing the scraps aside.
Then he pulled her into his lap, settling her over the hard line of his arousal.
Ariana gasped, the heat of him searing through her skin.
"You're perfect," he whispered against her throat, sliding his hands up her thighs.
She whimpered, rocking against him instinctively.
He chuckled darkly, low and dangerous.
"So eager," he murmured, sliding a hand between them to tease her slick folds.
Ariana cried out, clutching his shoulders.
"You're mine now," he said, voice rough with need. "Every part of you."
"Yes," she breathed, surrendering to him.
He grinned—a flash of teeth—and lifted her hips, lining himself up with her entrance.
Slowly, he sank into her, stretching her inch by agonizing inch.
Ariana threw her head back, moaning.
Brandon cursed under his breath, gripping her hips to guide her.
"Ride me," he ordered.
She moved, finding a rhythm, gasping at the feel of him filling her completely.
Brandon watched her with dark, hooded eyes, his hands roaming her body possessively.
When she faltered, he thrust up into her hard, making her scream.
"That's it," he growled. "Take it, baby."
She rode him faster, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her.
When her orgasm crashed over her, Brandon caught her, holding her close as he drove into her with brutal strokes, chasing his own release.
He came with a deep groan, spilling into her, marking her once again.
They collapsed together onto the bed, tangled and breathless.
Brandon rolled them so she was lying on top of him, his hand stroking lazily down her back.
"You're mine," he whispered against her hair.
Ariana closed her eyes, letting the truth of it settle over her.
For better or worse.
She was his.
And somehow, deep down, she didn't want it any other way.
---
Far away, in the city...
James Nick stared out the window of a high-rise hotel, a glass of whiskey clutched in his hand.
He watched the glittering skyline with a sour twist to his mouth.
He'd heard the rumors.
Seen the headlines.
Ariana Park.
Linked to Brandon Marshall.
The most dangerous man in the city.
James crushed the glass in his hand, shards slicing into his palm.
He didn't feel the pain.
All he could see was her face—her soft smile, her trembling lips.
She was supposed to be his.
She still would be.
No matter what.
He smiled—a cold, vicious smile.
Let Brandon Marshall have his fun.
It wouldn't last.
James was coming for her.
And he wouldn't be alone.