Caitlin
I’ve been kept in a gilded cage.
Hidden from the world of men.
I was naïve.
I was innocent.
Until him.
Until the night the King of the criminal underworld took me as his own.
Keenan
I’m heir to the throne.
The King of the underworld.
When the livelihood of my men is at stake, I take no prisoners…
Until her.
No one will touch her.
No one will look at her.
My virgin captive.
My wife.
Keenan’s walking to a large closet, bigger than my room at home. “I mean to find if you’re telling me the truth, Caitlin.”
“Of course I am,” I tell him. “What use would it be to lie?”
He turns to face me, a length of rope in his hands. For some reason, the combination of the rope in his hands and the way he’s eyeing me makes me shiver. “Not much use if I caught you in a lie,” he says truthfully. “Doesn’t mean you won’t try it. But I’ve work to do and can’t trust you. Give me your wrists.”
Panic wells in me at the sight of the rope. He restrained me once, and I hoped he wouldn’t again. I hated being restrained.
“Why?” I ask, but it’s the wrong response. With a firm set of his jaw, he spins me around and cracks his hand against my backside. I gasp in pain and move to get away from him when a second hard blow follows the first. My cheeks flame with embarrassment. I’m humiliated at being punished like this.
“Stop!” I say, but he lands one final smack of his palm against my ass before he spins me back around to face him.
“I should punish you properly,” he says. “Give me cheek like that again, and I will.”
It’s not lost on me that his father demanded just this, that he punish me. Is this what he has in mind?
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I protest.
He spins me around he grabs my chin so roughly, his fingers hurt. I wonder if he leaves marks. “Obedience,” he says tightly. “Submission. I’ve given you more leeway that I should have. But I have my reasons. And your warnings are up, Caitlin. Now give me your wrists, or I will punish you properly.”
With tears in my eyes, I obey. I hate him. Hate him. I was hidden away, apart from others, and my first interaction with people outside the confines of my home has destroyed my faith in humanity. My father had good reason to be hidden away like he was. Good reason. I swallow the lump in my throat and ignore the way my nose tingles while he ties a knot around my wrists.
“Good girl,” he says. “Now, you’ll wait on the side of the bed while I get ready.” His voice drips with condescension, as if he thinks I’m only a child who needs correcting.
I scowl at him. I hate that this is my first interaction with the outside world, and he’s taught me hate.
“I don’t like that look on your face,” he corrects. “Wipe it.”
I hate him. I hate him.
It’s almost like I hear an audible snap in my brain, like my resolve’s been tied with string that can’t bear any more weight.
“You’re no better than your father,” I snap, flouncing onto the bed. I don’t curse, I will not, but I want to hurt him. “You’re a jerk, just like him. I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing, and yet you arrogant, domineering—” I’m so angry, hot, fat tears well in my eyes and I can’t speak anymore.
The way his eyes flash at me, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. “I’ll show you no better than my father,” he says, his jaw as hard as granite as he reaches for me, flips me over, and presses me onto my belly. I roll, trying to get away from him, as panic floods me. He’s going to hurt me. I can see it in his eyes.
He didn’t save me from his father. He kept me for himself.
USA Today bestselling author Jane Henry pens stern but loving alpha heroes, feisty heroines, and emotion-driven happily-ever-afters. She writes what she loves to read: kink with a tender touch. Jane is a hopeless romantic who lives on the East Coast with a houseful of children and her very own Prince Charming.
Connect with Jane at http://janehenryromance.com
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