Page 27 of Lord of the Dark

He stood in the hallway below, bathed in the pallid light, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on me. His eyes—so dark, so penetrating—held me captive with an intensity that turned my blood to ice. He remained motionless, yet his entire posture thrummed with coiled energy. His expression was calm, almost amused, but his eyes told another story—one of predator and prey. Time seemed to suspend. It was a silent battle of wills, each of us sizing the other up.

Then, as if on some unspoken command, he moved.

A sharp gasp tore from me as he launched up the stairs with terrifying purpose. In blind panic, I whirled and sprinted down the hall, desperately searching for an open door. My bare feet slid across the floor, struggling for traction on the slick rugs. Thethunder of his footsteps grew louder with every heartbeat—an unrelenting pursuit that stole my breath. The hallway stretched endlessly before me, and my heart hammered so wildly I feared it might burst.

I yanked at the next two doorknobs, finding them mercilessly locked. His footsteps swelled to a menacing crescendo. Thrill clawed up my throat as I lurched from door to door, every movement fueled by the adrenaline of being caught.

Finally—one gave way.

With the last of my strength, I shoved it open and stumbled inside. A rush of cold air hit me as I slammed it shut behind me.

Before me stood a massive bed draped in opulent dark linens, flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the moonlit garden beyond. Silver light spilled across the sheets, making the silk gleam like liquid. Opposite the bed, a mirrored wardrobe reflected the glow, its surface shimmering.

Outside in the hallway, his footsteps slowed. He'd seen where I fled and seemed determined to savor every second of his approach. The devil knew his craft. But he wasn't the only one with a taste for the macabre. Instead of panicking, I felt electrified—thrilled to be part of this game. A devilish grin curled my lips as I waited.

His steps halted outside the door. A beat of silence. Then—the soft creak of his hand closing around the doorknob. My body tensed, my mind razor-sharp, but I was ready for whatever came next.

When the door swung open, his imposing silhouette filled the frame. He paused, as if surprised I hadn’t hidden. Moonlight carved sharp angles into his face, highlighting every line, every shadow. His lips twisted into a slow, icy smile.

"Why so stupid? You could’ve hidden. Instead, you stand here begging me to break you."

"Who says you can?" My pulse raced, but I held his gaze and letmyself slump lazily against the wall. "Come here and find out..."

Russo stilled, as if weighing how severely to punish me for that taunt. Then he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Escape was no longer an option.

"You could’ve just gotten in your car and driven home."

With every step he took closer, goosebumps spread from my back up my neck, down my arms.

"And run from you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?"

His gaze seared into my skin as his broad frame consumed all remaining space.

"I’m not afraid of you," I said with unshakable calm, even as my heart pounded.

"You should be." Now he stood directly before me. His fingers brushed my cheek—featherlight, just enough to set me ablaze. The contrast between his touch and the darkness in his eyes drove me mad.

"No fear..." His fingertips trailed down my throat.

My breath hitched instinctively because I couldn’t read him. I truly wasn’t afraid—but every instinct screamed a warning. Defiantly, I tilted my chin up, locking onto his gaze. His presence radiated heat, his dominance like an avalanche poised to bury me.

Unconsciously, my eyes dropped to his lips, making my heart race harder. The thought of feeling them, nipping at them, biting down until I tasted his blood—

"I can read you..." He cut through my thoughts as if he truly could. His smile deepened. "Two words. Say them, and you’ll get what you want."

"You. Want. Me." I reminded him who was stalking whom.

The moonlight and the silence of the room draped over us like a stage set, as if night itself had conspired to give him the perfect entrance. His hand closed around my throat. Those same fingers that had just caressed me tenderly now tightened with deliberatepressure, forcing me to swallow hard. Immediately, his eyes tracked every movement of my throat, hunting for fear or pain.

He squeezed harder until my breath came in shallow, ragged bursts—testing, probing, inching slowly toward my limits. I didn’t even know where those limits lay, only that I ached to find them. And that before me stood the one man who could give me what Carter had so painfully denied.

My head fell back against the wall as if it could anchor me, hold me steady while my body teetered between pleasure and madness. The intensity of this moment—our first real step beyond business partners, as he redrew the lines of dominance and surrender—was so overwhelming I had to shut my eyes to feel him more deeply. His thigh pressed ruthlessly against my most sensitive spot, the pressure alone nearly enough to undo me. His lips brushed feather-light over my cheek while his thumb dug harder into the side of my throat, collapsing the world down to nothing but him: his strength, his grip, his absolute control over every breath I took.

"I feel your heart racing," he rasped before dragging his tongue slowly over the frantic pulse in my neck. "Tastes like fear. Deep fear..."

In his eyes, I saw dark hunger and that flicker of satisfaction—because my body was burning for him in a twisted cocktail of panic and desire. He was a sadistic bastard, tightening his grip further until the edges of my vision blurred.

My hand slid downward slowly, pressing the knife precisely where any normal man would have instinctively recoiled. Yet he didn’t flinch—not a trace of fear. Even with a blade at his cock, he remained unmoved. His eyes narrowed, glinting dark as oil in firelight, reflecting only a ravenous hunger. As if I were giving him something he’d been missing for far too long. The way he’d effortlessly disabled Delany, the icy calm with which he met my threat—it was my first real glimpse of what I was dealing with.

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