SAVAGE RITES
The library at night was a different place than during the day. In the daylight, it was a place of stress and studying. At night, it was a beauty.
I checked my phone before I pushed the heavy revolving door. 7:02 PM.
No messages from Nico. No threats from Matteo.
I felt like a teenager sneaking out to meet a boy, except the stakes weren’t being grounded, they were broken bones.
I walked into the lobby. The main lights were dimmed. A few students were scattered at the long tables, their faces glowing blue from laptop screens.
I scanned the room.
Julian was waiting by the information desk. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket anymore. He had on a soft cream-colored sweater and glasses. The glasses made him look older, studious.
When he saw me, he took the glasses off and shoved them into his pocket. His face lit up.
“You came,” he said, walking over to me.
“I said I would,” I replied, glancing over my shoulder. “But we can’t stay here. It’s too open.”
“I know,” Julian said. He lowered his voice.
“Follow me. I have a key to the Archives.”
“The Archives? Isn’t that restricted?”
“My father is a Senator,” Julian said with a wink. “And he is also the biggest donor to the history department. I have keys to doors that don’t even exist on the map.”
He led me past the main stacks, down a narrow staircase that smelled of dust and binding glue. At the bottom was a heavy iron door. Julian produced a brass key, unlocked it, and ushered me inside.
The Archives were silent.
Rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves held books that looked hundreds of years old. There were no windows. No cameras. Just the smell of parchment.
Julian locked the door behind us.
“We’re safe here,” he said. “The Wi-Fi doesn’t even reach down here. No tracking.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My shoulders dropped.
“It’s amazing,” I whispered, running my hand along the spine of an old leather book.
“I come here when I need to think,” Julian said. He walked over to a small wooden table in the corner. He pulled out a chair for me. “Or when I need to hide from the madness.”
I sat down. Julian didn’t sit opposite me.
He sat on the edge of the table, close enough that I could smell the cedar and vanilla scent that Nico hated so much.
“I brought you something,” Julian said.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a paper wrapped sandwich and a bottle of juice.
“I saw you at lunch,” he said gently. “You didn’t eat. And Bianca… she ruined your appetite.”
I looked at the sandwich. It was such a small, normal thing. But in this world of starvation and threats, it felt like the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me.
“Thank you,” I said. My voice was thick with emotion. I unwrapped it. Turkey and bacon. I took a bite. It tasted like heaven.
Julian watched me eat. He didn’t look predatory. He looked relieved.
“Why are you doing this, Julian?” I asked after I had swallowed. “Bianca was right. You have a reputation. Being seen with me… it’s political suicide.”
“I don’t care about politics,” Julian said. He took the glasses out of his pocket and turned them over in his hands. “I care about what’s right. And what Nico is doing to you… it’s evil, Elena. It’s slavery.”
“It’s a debt,” I corrected softly. “My father stole from them.”
“So you have to pay with your body? Your life?” Julian shook his head. “No. I won’t accept that.”
He slid off the table and crouched down in front of me so we were at eye level. He placed his hands on my knees. His touch was warm, grounding.
“I have a plan,” he whispered.
I froze. “What?”
“I can get you out,” Julian said. His eyes were intense, “Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon.
My father has connections in the State Department. We can get you a new identity.
A real one. Not the fake one your father bought.”
“Julian, stop,” I said, panic rising in my chest. “You can’t. If Nico finds out…”
“Nico isn’t God!” Julian snapped. “He’s just a bully with a trust fund and a gun. He bleeds like anyone else.”
“He will break your hands,” I whispered, repeating Nico’s threat.
Julian took my hands in his. He turned them over, tracing the lines of my palms.
“Then I’ll play the piano with my feet,” he joked weakly. Then he grew serious. “Elena, listen to me. I saw you at the party. I saw the way he touched you. I saw the way you looked at me.”
He squeezed my hands.
“You aren’t one of them. You don’t belong in the dark. You belong in the light.”
I looked at him. He was everything I should want. He was safe. He was kind. He was offering me freedom.
But when I closed my eyes, I didn’t see Julian’s hazel eyes. I saw gray storms. I felt the rough scrape of a thumb against my lip.
“I don’t know if I can leave,” I admitted. “My father…”
“We’ll save him too,” Julian promised. “I swear it.”
He leaned in. The air in the dusty room changed. It wasn’t charged with the electric, violent tension I felt with Nico. It was soft. Romantic.
Julian’s gaze dropped to my lips.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
He asked. He asked for permission. Nico never asked. Nico took.
I looked at Julian’s kind face. I wanted to feel something pure. I wanted to erase the memory of the Red Room.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Julian leaned forward slowly. He cupped my face with one hand, his thumb brushing my cheekbone.
His lips met mine.
It was sweet. It was gentle. It was like tasting sunlight. He didn’t demand entry. He kissed me like I was something precious, something to be cherished.
I kissed him back, trying to lose myself in the softness.
But deep down, in the darkest part of my heart, something was wrong.
There was no fire.
There was no lightning.
My heart wasn’t racing. It was calm.
It was a nice kiss. A safe kiss.
Julian pulled back. He was breathless, his eyes shining. He looked at me like he had just won a prize.
“Elena,” he breathed. “I…”
CREAK.
The sound echoed through the silent Archives.
We both froze.
It was the sound of the heavy iron door opening. The door Julian had locked.
Julian stood up immediately, putting himself between me and the stacks.
“Who’s there?” Julian called out. His voice was strong, but I saw his hand trembling.
A shadow elongated across the floor.
“I’m hurt, Julian,” a voice called out. It was a smooth, mocking baritone. “I thought the Archives were for studying. Not for… extracurricular activities.”
Matteo walked around the corner of the shelf.
He was grinning. He held up a keyring. A master set.
“Did you forget?” Matteo asked, spinning the keys on his finger. “The De Lucas own the building company that built this library. We have keys to everything.”
My blood ran cold.
Matteo wasn’t alone.
Behind him, stepping out of the shadows like a nightmare, was Nico.
He wasn’t grinning.
He was wearing a long black coat. His hands were in gloves. He looked at Julian, then he looked at me. He looked at my swollen lips.
He knew.
Nico didn’t say a word. He just walked toward us. The air in the room grew so heavy I could barely breathe.
Julian stood his ground. “Leave her alone, Nico.”
Nico didn’t even look at Julian. He stopped three feet away. He locked eyes with me.
“Come here, Topolino,” Nico said softly.
It wasn’t a question. It was a summons.
“She’s staying with me,” Julian said, stepping forward.
Nico moved so fast I barely saw it.
One second he was standing still. The next, he had grabbed Julian by the throat and slammed him backward into the bookshelf.
Books tumbled to the floor with a loud crash.
“Julian!” I screamed.
Nico held Julian pinned against the books, his gloved hand squeezing Julian’s windpipe.
Julian clawed at Nico’s arm, gasping for air.
“I warned you,” Nico said calmly to Julian’s turning-purple face. “I told you to stay in your lane.”
“Nico, stop!” I begged. I grabbed Nico’s arm, trying to pull him off. “You’re killing him!”
Nico looked at me. His eyes were dead.
“You kissed him,” Nico said.
“I’m sorry!” I sobbed. “I’m sorry! Please let him go!”
Nico tightened his grip. Julian’s eyes were rolling back.
“Say it,” Nico commanded me.
“Say what?”
“Say you belong to me.”
I looked at Julian. He was dying. Right in front of me. Because I wanted to be safe.
“I belong to you!” I screamed. “I belong to you, Nico! Only you!”
Nico held the grip for one more terrifying second. Then, he let go.
Julian crumpled to the floor, coughing and gasping, clutching his throat.
Nico stood over him. He adjusted his gloves.
“Next time,” Nico said to Julian, “I break the fingers.”
He turned to me. He held out his hand.
“Let’s go home, Elena,” Nico said. “We have a lot to discuss.”
I looked at Julian, wheezing on the floor. I wanted to help him. But I knew if I touched him again, Nico would finish the job.
I took Nico’s hand.
I let him lead me out of the Archives, leaving the only good thing in my life gasping for air in the dust.
The car ride back to the penthouse was silent.
It was a heavy, suffocating silence that pressed against my eardrums.
Matteo drove with his eyes fixed on the road, sensing the radioactive levels of rage coming from the backseat. I sat pressed against the door, as far away from Nico as possible.
Nico sat perfectly still. He had removed his leather gloves. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle feathered in his cheek. He looked like a statue carved from ice and violence.
When the elevator opened directly into the penthouse, Nico didn’t tell me to go to my room.
He grabbed my wrist. His grip was loose, but I knew if I pulled, it would turn into a shackle.
He dragged me past the kitchen, past the living room, past the hallway that led to my room.
He opened the double doors at the end of the corridor.
His room.
I had never been inside. It was vast, dominated by a massive bed with black sheets and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the rain-slicked campus below. The only light came from the city glow outside.
Nico threw me inside.
I stumbled, catching myself on the edge of a heavy leather armchair.
“Nico, please,” I whispered. My voice was hoarse from screaming in the library. “We didn’t do anything. It was just a kiss.”
Nico slammed the door shut and locked it. The click echoed like a gunshot.
He turned to me. He began to unbutton his coat, his movements slow and methodical.
“Just a kiss,” he repeated. His voice was terrifyingly calm. “You let him put his mouth on you. You let him taste you.”
He threw the coat onto the floor. He stalked toward me.
“You let him think he had a chance.”
I backed up until my legs hit the side of the bed. “He’s my friend.”
“He is a rival!” Nico roared, the calm shattering instantly.
He lunged at me, pushing me backward onto the mattress. The black silk sheets were cool against my back, but Nico was a furnace. He crawled over me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand.
“You are mine, Elena,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “I told you. I marked you. And you went running to him like a bitch in heat.”
“I hate you!” I spat, struggling against his grip.
“I kissed him because he’s kind! Because he doesn’t treat me like this!”
“And did you like it?” Nico asked. He lowered his head, sniffing my neck, inhaling the scent of Julian that still lingered. “Did it make you wet, Elena? Did his gentle little hands make you feel good?”
“Yes!” I lied, wanting to hurt him.
Nico’s eyes flashed with a dark, dangerous light.
“Liar.”
He released my wrists and grabbed the hem of my gray skirt. He yanked it up to my waist in one violent motion.
“I know what you like,” he growled. “I felt it last night. I felt how tight you were for me.”
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my thick black tights.
RIIIP.
The sound of tearing nylon filled the room. He didn’t bother sliding them down. He tore them open, ripping the fabric from the inner thigh, exposing my skin to the cool air.
“Nico, stop!” I gasped, trying to kick him off.
He caught my leg and pinned it down with his body. He settled his weight between my thighs, his heavy hips pressing against my center. Through his dress pants, I could feel him. He was hard. Rock hard.
“You want kindness?” Nico whispered, his hand sliding up my bare thigh, rough and demanding. “Kindness doesn’t make you shake like this.”
He found the wetness I couldn’t hide. My body had betrayed me the moment he touched me.
Nico smirked. It was a dark, victorious curve of his lips.
“See?” he murmured. “You’re dripping for the monster.”
He didn’t give me time to answer. He lowered his head and crushed his mouth to mine.
This wasn’t like the kiss in the Red Room. This was punishment. He bit my lower lip, hard enough to taste blood, and when I gasped, his tongue invaded. He swept through my mouth, reclaiming every inch, erasing the memory of Julian’s soft, sweet kiss with a brutal, intoxicating passion.
His hand moved between my legs. He didn’t tease. He didn’t ask.
He pushed my panties aside and touched me.
His fingers were relentless, finding the swollen bundle of nerves and circling it with bruising pressure.
I choked on a moan, arching my back off the mattress.
“Don’t hold back,” Nico commanded against my lips. “Scream for me. I want to hear you admit it.”
He moved his hand faster, his thumb rubbing, his fingers pushing inside, stretching me. It was too much and not enough. The friction was maddening.
“Nico…” I whimpered, my hips moving of their own accord, grinding against his hand.
He broke the kiss and looked down at me. His pupils were blown wide. He looked wrecked.
“Who do you belong to?” he demanded.
He added a second finger, thrusting deep while his thumb continued its assault.
“I…” I couldn’t think. The pleasure was a white-hot spike driving through my brain.
“Say it!” Nico shouted. He withdrew his hand and replaced it with his mouth.
He buried his face between my legs.
I screamed.
The sensation was electric. His tongue was hot, broad, and skilled. He licked a long, wet stripe from my opening to my clitoris, then sucked hard.
My hands flew to his hair, gripping the dark strands. I didn’t know if I was trying to push him away or pull him closer.
He ate me like a starving man. He was rough, his stubble grazing my sensitive skin, his tongue flicking and swirling with a rhythm that destroyed every defense I had left.
” You taste like me,” he mumbled against my skin, the vibration sending shivers through my entire body.
He worked me toward the edge. He knew exactly what he was doing. He controlled the pace. Every time I got close, he slowed down, denying me, making me whine with frustration.
“Please,” I begged, my head thrashing on the pillow. “Please, Nico.”
“Please what?” He looked up, his chin wet, his eyes glittering. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes,” I sobbed. “Yes, please.”
“Then tell me who owns this.” He kissed the inside of my thigh.
“You,” I cried out. “You do. You own it.”
“Good girl.”
He lowered his head again and showed no mercy. He sucked harder, his tongue moving in a blur.
The climax hit me like a car crash. It started in my belly and exploded outward. I screamed his name, my body bowing upward, my muscles clamping down on emptiness.
I shook violently, wave after wave of pleasure washing over me, drowning out the fear, the guilt, and the anger.
I collapsed back onto the mattress, panting, my skin flushed and sweaty.
Nico stayed between my legs for a moment, catching his breath. Then he slowly crawled up my body.
He hovered over me. He was still fully clothed, except for the mess of his hair and the hunger in his eyes. He pressed his hips against my thigh. I could feel his erection, straining against the fabric of his trousers. He was on the edge.
I looked at him, dazed and vulnerable. Part of me the dark part wanted him to finish it. I wanted him to unzip his pants and fill the empty ache inside me.
Nico saw the want in my eyes.
He leaned down and kissed my forehead. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture that was more confusing than the violence.
“Sleep,” he whispered.
He rolled off me.
He stood up by the side of the bed. He adjusted his pants, wincing slightly as he tucked himself back into place. He wasn’t going to touch me. He wasn’t going to take his own release.
“Nico?” I whispered, confused.
He looked down at me, his expression unreadable.
“You gave me what I wanted,” he said, his voice rough. “You admitted the truth.”
He walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked, pulling the sheet up to cover my torn clothes.
“To take a cold shower,” Nico said without looking back. “Because unlike you, Elena, I have discipline.”
He unlocked the door and walked out, leaving me alone in his big, black bed, smelling like sex and sandalwood, completely and utterly defeated.
TBC
