He could end this quickly.

He’s waited so long to do it. Minutes, hours. Years. He could have come inside me and been done. That’s not what monsters do. He’ll make this last for just as long he wants it to. I could be held underneath him for eternity, feeling his cock spear into me, rubbing me raw.

His expression is torn, somehow both despairing and smug. I must seem like some kind of sacrificial lamb to him, a sacrifice on the altar of his wickedness.

It’s how I feel as the pain consumes me, threatening to tear down my sanity. I think I might really be losing it. My sanity, my consciousness. I almost wish I could black out, so I wouldn’t have to feel this. He could fuck my limp body until the end of time, and I wouldn’t feel a thing.

The bed rolls with every thrust. The scent of our combined musk fills the air, along with the metal of my blood. It feels like I’m adrift on an angry ocean, and he’s the storm bearing down on me. He batters me without a care for how I’m ripped apart and torn.

He closes his eyes against whatever he sees in my eyes, focused on his own pleasure now. He’s in his own world, fucking me, using me, drenching his cock with me again and again.

His breathing is harsh, surrounding me. I listen to him breathe in and out, the sound pained. Tortured. Does this hurt him, fucking me forever? Or is he always hurting, the caress of my inner flesh a temporary reprieve from a lifetime of suffering?

His eyes fly open, and I see in them so many things—possession and hunger, anger and fear. He shouts into the huge room, and it echoes off the walls. He jerks roughly, losing his rhythm. Then again.

Then he stills, pushing and pulsing against my hips, his whole body trembling.

He stares into my eyes the entire time, letting me see everything inside him, a vortex that sucks me in deep. His cock flexes as he bathes my sex with warm come. It stings the newly stretched skin, and I flinch as we both hold ourselves rigid and locked.

The second the last pulse of his cock ends, he wrenches his entire body away from me, pushing off the bed.

It’s strange to breathe easy after being constrained for so long. Strange to have nothing on top of me, between my legs. I can’t move, though. I’m collapsed on the bed, just wreckage left behind.

His hand is shaking as he runs it over his face.

He gives me one last look. Full of accusations. And longing?

Then he stalks from the room, leaving me behind in a puddle of my own arousal and blood.

Chapter Seventeen

I wake up back in my bedroom to the sound of knocking. I only vaguely remember leaving his room and wandering through the third floor. There were so many of them. I actually got lost again, confused about which floor I was on—expecting to circle back to where I started only to discover new rooms. Ivan was nowhere to be seen, so when I found my bedroom again, I took a shower, fingers careful against tender skin, and then climbed into bed.

Voices drift up the stairs, and I force myself to sit. The room spins for only a few minutes, and then I gingerly place my bare feet on the cool wood floor. I find my clothes in the dresser, along with some new things I know I didn’t buy—a pink dress with a white pinafore. I finger the silky-smooth fabric, a strange pang of longing in my chest. He must have ordered Luca or someone else to get my clothes from my apartment. That means I won’t be returning for a while—probably never.

I’m limping by the time I make it down the stairs. Ivan fucked me with the intent of hurting me, and he succeeded. Through the open door, Blue’s low voice confers with Ivan, while Lola shoots questions at them both. Why didn’t you call me when you found her? Was she okay? She might have needed me.

Bless her.

Somehow she took it into her head that we were friends, years ago. She started caring about me, and then I couldn’t help but care back. I tried to be like Ivan, cold and ruthless. At sixteen, cast out and alone, it had seemed like a romantic ideal I could try to reach.

Try and fail, anyway.

I care about Lola. I care about the rest of the girls. I even care about the Grand, which is a building.

And most of all I care about Ivan.

Luca is standing in the hallway a few feet away from the entryway. A respectful distance, but one where he can still hear everything. He watches me approach in silence, taking in my limp.

“What a good guard dog,” I purr when I get close.

His eyes are hooded. “Did he hurt you?”

He already knows the answer to that. “Why, are you going to defend my honor?”

That earns me a dire look before he stares straight ahead.

The room falls silent as I step into the doorway. I straighten, hoping to hide my soreness. Ivan’s gaze finds me first, snapping to me as if he knew I’d been there. He looks like he usually does, rough but well crafted, his tailored suit caressing his powerful body. I would never have imagined those scars underneath, such a smooth veneer covering a rough underground. It mirrors the flash bang of Tanglewood itself, covering up a gritty underworld. Ivan stares at me, and I stare back—both of us reeling, I think, from what we did last night. What we shared. I gave him my virginity and he gave me honesty, but I think his gift was greater.

Lola breaks the silence, rushing across the room and flinging her arms around me. “Oh my God, we were so worried about you. Ivan called us when you went missing.”

I aim for a smile. “You know me. I always land on my feet.”

The worry in her wide brown eyes doesn’t fade in the slightest. “What happened last night?”

My stomach flips. I’m guessing she doesn’t know I tried to leave for good. Otherwise she wouldn’t be so happy to see me now. Something tells me I won’t be able to evade these questions for long. They want answers. Ivan will want answers.

I need to be seated for this. I’m already swaying on my feet.

Lola notices immediately and guides me to the sofa. “Candy. What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

I feel a little sick, thinking of telling them the truth. The whole truth. Nothing but the truth. The lingering soreness between my legs doesn’t even register in the face of this.

Blue is watching me with a hawklike expression, not missing a thing. I’m guessing he can see how I’m moving stiffly too. And Ivan…is Ivan. Stone-faced. Unreadable.

It’s like being in love with a statue.

Blue clears his throat. “Candy, I’m taking this threat against the Grand very seriously. We all are. We’re working closely with the police department, but we’re also conducting our own investigation.” His expression turns wry. “As you can imagine, it would be helpful if we could find him first.”

First? If they found whoever did this, the police department never would. They’d just find an anonymous body in the river six months later.

“The blood?” I whisper.

“Sheep’s blood,” Blue answers grimly.

I should feel relief. At least it wasn’t a person who had to die for that. But all I feel is dread, because there are sheep on Harmony Hills. He’d have easy access to it…

Blue comes to sit in the chair near the sofa. Lola is on my side, probably for support. I feel caged in, tensed. There’s nowhere to run. I don’t imagine Luca would let me leave anyway. “Ivan says you have a guess as to who’s doing this,” Blue says.

Ivan remains standing, leaning against a hutch, arms crossed. He doesn’t move in any way to acknowledge Blue’s words. He doesn’t even acknowledge me—just stares into my eyes.

I look down. Shit.

“Little one,” he says softly. I’d know that voice anywhere. I hear it in my dreams.

His cold facade cracks for just a second, letting me see inside. To how much he needs me to do this. To how much he cares about the Grand and the girls who work there. To how much he trusted me, that he called Blue to get this information from me—even though Ivan doesn’t want to believe it’s connected to my past. He doesn’t love me, and after what I saw of his body last night and how hard he fucked me, I think he even resents me. But he trusted me enough for this.