Given to Madness: A Dark Romance

by Winter Fox

  Mariusz lingered in the doorway for ten long seconds. Before he turned away and called over his shoulder. “Don’t be long, Lieutenant.”

  Ilya took the stairs two at a time.

  It hadn’t taken long to get rid of Sava. The blond man might have been good at terrifying little girls, but he was afraid of his Lieutenant—and with very good reason.

  He knew Sava had hurt Liselle more than she wanted to admit to him. Which was why he had been so surprised when she insisted that Ilya wasn’t a monster.

  Of course I’m a monster, he wanted to roar. Who else but a monster would have let you be dragged up the stairs by that piece of shit?

  That was when he knew that he needed to put this ridiculous opinion she seemed to have of him out of her head, permanently. He wasn’t a protector, or a fucking knight in shining armor. He was a murderer, a torturer, and most importantly he was dog loyal to “Mad” Mariusz Sokolov.

  By the time he had dropped down over her trembling body on the bed, he was at a loss as to what to do next. He had wanted to frighten the girl; to teach her to be wary of him—of all of them. But when he caught the freshly washed scent of her hair, and felt her toned but pliable body beneath his own, he felt his control slipping away.

  She blinked up at him with huge amber eyes, and he could almost taste her fear in the shallow breaths which tore from her throat. He reached up to wrap his hand slowly around her throat, and he could feel the flutter of her rapid pulse beneath her tanned skin.

  He drank in every single aspect of her fear, and his cock twitched. Ilya suddenly leaned forward and sank his teeth into the swelling of her breast which was just visible over the top of her dress, and she yelped. He knew it had hurt, he’d wanted it to. He wanted to bruise that perfect skin; marking her with his mouth.

  Her hands found their way to his chest, and she beat her small fists against him. “Get the fuck off me,” she whimpered in a small voice.

  He lifted his head so that he was looking directly into her eyes. Fuck, they were the most incredible eyes he’d ever seen. And he lowered his face to hers. As he did his body pressed harder against her, and she was pinned beneath him.

  “Get off me,” she whimpered, and he felt his dick grow harder in response.

  He knew he was a bastard. But it was Liselle who needed to realize it too.

  He pressed his mouth over hers, and her pleas were consumed by him. Using his tongue, he deftly forced her to open her mouth to him. And once inside, he searched her mouth until both of their tongues met, and he kissed her deeply—possessively.

  She had stopped fighting him now, either because she knew that she didn’t stand a chance against his brute strength, or maybe because she was turned on by him too. Although that was highly unlikely; this girl would despise him by time he’d finished terrorizing her just enough to provoke her hatred. But her body had stopped bucking, and her legs had stopped kicking.

  Slowly, as though she might recommence the fight at any moment, he leaned back from her. His right hand found a life of its own, and let go of her wrist to snake its way down her body, until it found her breast. He squeezed, hard, and she cried out again.

  “Why are you hurting me?”

  He squeezed her flesh harder, and as he did, he ground his body against hers. His cock was pressing against his jeans, just begging to be given permission to fuck this woman.

  Not going to happen, he told the wolf inside him.

  “Because fucking feels better when it hurts.” He stated, matter-of-factly.

  Her eyes widened, and she pressed her feet against the bed in a desperate attempt to push herself away from Ilya. “You can’t fuck me. I’m not yours.”

  He grinned at her before releasing his hold on her body and leaning back. He ended up kneeling between her thighs, and because she had pulled her knees up in her attempt to escape, her dress had been pushed up around her waist—pure white panties on show. She finally noticed the direction of his hungry gaze, and tried to close her legs.

  But Ilya was too quick. He caught her knees with each of his hands; gripping them tightly, and holding her still. “Do you honestly think that belonging to Mariusz is going to be painless or pleasurable?”

  She had been trying to sit up, but now she lay back quietly; closing her eyes as though he would disappear if she couldn’t see him. “No,” she admitted.

  He took the opportunity to reach out with his hand, slowly teasing his finger across the white satin of her underwear. He started at her clit, before tracing his way down across her hidden folds. She huffed in shock at his touch, and her eyes flew open. But as he returned to her clit and began applying gentle pressure in small circular motions over the fabric, she threw her head back and moaned low in her throat.

  “Do you like that, milaya?” He murmured huskily, applying a little more pressure as he sped his movements up.

  “No,” she lied, in a breathless voice.

  “Really?” He asked, as he pulled his finger away from the damp satin.

  She turned wounded eyes on him, and he fought to hide the smirk of triumph from his face. She wanted him—he knew it.

  He was a fucking asshole. The world would be a better place if Mariusz did put a bullet in him.

  He reached his hand back between her legs, only this time he hooked his index finger beneath her panties, and pulled them aside; revealing her perfect, glistening pussy to him. She wailed and tried to sit up, but his other hand shot forward to tightly grip her throat once more.

  He squeezed just hard enough to make breathing difficult for her; before he pressed his thumb over her most sensitive part, and started to create new circles. Only this time directly against her skin.

  Liselle’s back arched involuntarily, and she cried out in a kind of twisted, tormented delight. This was the type of thing which Ilya got off on, he loved the power, the control. His hand gripped her throat a little tighter, as he felt his dick harden exponentially inside his jeans.

  “Do you like that, milaya?” He growled.

  “Yes,” she whimpered. Then, “No. I mean no,” she cried in a panicked voice.

  But he had all of the confirmation he needed. He let go of her throat—all the while keeping his thumb circling her clit—then he hooked one strap of her dress and yanked it down. She gasped as her breast spilled out from the black material, but he increased the pressure on the swollen bud between her legs, and she moaned again.

  Ilya’s hand found her nipple, and it was peaked to absolute perfection—she was so fucking turned on. He watched her face carefully as he cruelly pinched the tip in his fingers, and squeezed hard.

  “Ahh,” she wailed, trying to sit forward. But when he sped up the assault with his thumb against her clit, she threw herself back against the bed. Her fingers gripped the bedclothes and her knuckles whitened with the pressure of her grip.

  He sensed the shift in her body, and he knew the waves of pleasure were beginning to roll into one single tsunami which would rip a trail of destruction through her inexperienced body at any minute now. He suddenly gave her a wicked smile. “Do you want me to stop?”

  She threw her head frantically back and forth. “No, please don’t stop, Lieutenant.”

  The word sounded distant and wrong to his ears, and in a moment of madness he almost growled the words, Ilya, my name is Ilya. But he caught himself at the last moment, and instead focused on bringing the girl to her climax.

  When she reached the moment of her release, he jerked his head back; before darting forward to sink his teeth into the soft tawny flesh of her nipple. He wanted blood, and he tasted the coppery tang on his tongue as she screamed out in a heartbreakingly sensual mixture of ecstasy and agony.

  All the while his hand never slowed in its assault on her clit, and his mouth lapped and sucked at the nipped flesh of her breast. She shuddered over and over again, as each tremor of her orgasm took possession of her body.

  “Please?” She managed to murmur. But he wasn’t even sure if she knew wha
t she was asking for.

  Finally, she quieted down, and he grudgingly released her body back to her. He knelt on the bed looking down at her, and his dick was practically tearing its way through his pants. Her legs were still open in the position he had forced them into, and her panties had only half slipped back to cover her. He could see the shining evidence of her enjoyment edging the lips of her pussy.

  Her dress was still pulled down at the top, exposing her breast, and when his eyes fell upon the bead of blood that marred her perfect nipple, he moaned aloud. He was genuinely surprised he hadn’t come in his pants. She was incredible.

  When he met her eyes though, he felt a spark of something like guilt. She wasn’t crying, but she looked heartbroken—as though her world had just fallen apart.

  Your world fell apart the moment you walked into this hellhole, milaya.

  “Why did you do that to me?” She asked softly, as she quickly worked to fix the mess he had made of her dress.

  “To teach you a very important lesson.” He bit down on the flesh at the side his mouth, desperately trying to quell the overwhelming urge to rip his jeans off, and fuck her until she cried.

  She sat up and backed further up the bed, away from him.

  As if that would stop me, he mused darkly to himself as he watched her retreat.

  “What lesson?” She hissed. Her yellow eyes were hooded—angry.

  He shrugged. “I needed to teach you that there are no knights here. Not even me.”

  He stood up and headed to the door as he spoke. He needed to get out of here, and quickly; otherwise he was going to do something he regretted. As he reached the door she spoke.

  “What do I do now?”

  He shrugged, but didn’t turn around to look at her. It was better for her this way, she had to know what he was. He couldn’t help her, and protect his family—so he would ultimately sit back and watch Mariusz do whatever he wanted to the girl.

  He wasn’t very proud of himself in that moment.

  “You wait for Mariusz,” he murmured, before closing the door on her.

  8

  Liss

  After the Lieutenant left, I wrapped my arms around my drawn-up legs. Laying my head against my knees I took several long, deep breaths. I felt dizzy and a little sick, and I knew that I was in shock. I had never allowed a man to lay a finger below my waist, and in the last half hour not one, but two men had both touched me there.

  The two men had been as different as night and day in their treatment of me. Sava was brutal and unforgiving when he forced his fingers inside me. It had hurt like hell, and only made me even more afraid for what would happen when Mariusz came to claim me fully.

  But when the Lieutenant had touched me, my body had responded to him in ways that I knew it shouldn’t. Even though he had been dark, and moody; and filled with a barely controlled rage the whole time that he tormented me, he had somehow managed to make it feel good. My face colored in shame as I remembered writhing in pleasure as his thumb brought me to orgasm.

  He had been trying to frighten me, and he had definitely hurt me. My fingers found the bite mark on my nipple, and I hissed in a low gasp of pain. When he had bitten me to the point where I bled, my body had been torn between excitement and agony. I had wanted him to stop, but I had also wanted him to keep going. Wanted him to keep going until I came.

  I was a fucking mess.

  Lifting my head and shaking it from side to side, I tried to erase the memories of the Lieutenant. Even though I knew he had been attempting to turn me against him, I couldn’t shake the certainty that he was my best chance at survival in this place. I knew now that he was okay with hurting me, but I didn’t think it was going to be the same kind of hurt that Mariusz would inflict.

  I took a moment to really notice my new surroundings. Mariusz’s room was beautiful. The walls were painted in a dark emerald-green color, and all of the black wooden furniture complemented the color perfectly. The floor was covered by a sumptuously thick carpet which was such a dark gray color, it was almost black.

  The bed was enormous—easily able to sleep four people—and the bedding was all black satin which coolly caressed your bare skin. There was a huge flat screen TV on the wall, and I looked around until I located the remote control on a dark-wood bedside unit which was carved into the shape of a dragon.

  I could hear the sound of the men laughing, and joking downstairs, and I felt a tremor of fury tear through my body as I imagined the Lieutenant telling the others what he had done to me. He was probably telling Mariusz that he had warmed me up, ready for him.

  I flicked the TV on to a music channel, and turned it up just loud enough to drown out the sounds of my tormentors enjoyment. Then, I lay down against the satin sheets. Even though it was only early in the afternoon I was exhausted, and the vodka had seriously gone to my head—I wasn’t good at drinking in the afternoon.

  But today had been a special occasion, I thought bitterly.

  * * *

  I woke to the sound of the bedroom door opening, and my eyes flew open. The room was filled by a dim half-light which told me that I had been asleep for at least a few hours. When I heard Mariusz’s voice cut through the silence, I jumped and sat up.

  “Ilya, come in with me.”

  Who the fuck was Ilya?

  “All right, korol.” The voice which replied was without a doubt, the Lieutenant’s.

  Ilya? His name is Ilya.

  Then the lights were flicked on, and I was temporarily blinded. I sat up straighter in the bed, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable.

  “Ahh here she is.” Mariusz stalked along the side of the bed as he spoke. “Were you sleeping, love? Did we wake you?”

  I glared at him without replying, and he stopped next to the bed. He stood over me as he tipped yet another vodka bottle to his lips, and drank deeply. He was drunk, I realized. And my stomach filled with ice as I became rapidly certain that this was not going to mean anything good for me.

  My eyes darted toward the door as it slammed shut, and I met the Lieutenant’s black gaze. He stood stiffly by the door with his own bottle of vodka in one hand. He didn’t want to be here, I could sense it. But he would do whatever Mariusz told him to, because he was a blindly loyal soldier.

  “Take a seat, Ilya.” Mariusz’s voice was slurred, as he gestured to a black crushed velvet couch which was pushed against the wall opposite the bed where I lay.

  The bigger man obediently walked over the sofa, and threw himself down onto it. “Do you think it’s wise to use my name, korol?”

  Mariusz ignored him. He was too busy staring at me, and I dropped my gaze to the black bedsheets. I had learned my lesson—insolence was painful. He seemed to approve of my behavior. At least he didn’t hit me; instead he walked over to join the man named Ilya, on the couch, so now they were both sitting staring at me, and I began to feel seriously uncomfortable.

  “Stand up, Liselle.” Mariusz spoke in a low, dangerous tone.

  I reasoned that I would probably feel more comfortable standing up than lying on the bed with two strange men in the room, so I obligingly slid my legs off the bed and got to my feet. My eyes flickered warily over the men who sat watching me. They were both so different to look at, but it was the look in their eyes that really set them apart.

  Mariusz had the liquid blue eyes of a predator, and even though they were hazy with drink; I could practically see the cold calculation behind them. He was laying plans for me, and I was sure that I wasn’t going to enjoy those plans.

  Ilya was different, with his eyes which were darker than hell. But his eyes gave away the tension which I sensed thrumming through his body. Even if he didn’t look like it—Ilya was concerned for me.

  If he was worried, then I should be too.

  Mariusz’s voice suddenly drew my attention back to him. “Take off your clothes.”

  I froze. What?

  Mariusz’s voice was a snarl. “You’re either stupid, or you like to be hit. D
o you need me to remind you what happens when you don’t do what you’re fucking told, love?”

  I trembled as I stood in front of the two men, and considered my options. They were severely limited—if I didn’t do what he asked of me then he’d hurt me, and then make me do it anyway. I had no real choice. I reached hesitantly for the first strap of my dress.

  Ilya stood up quickly. “You don’t want me here while you get acquainted with your fiancée, korol. I’ll leave you both to it.”

  Mariusz’s hand shot forward, barring Ilya’s path. “Sit the fuck down, Ilya. I’ll tell you when to go.”

  The bigger man paused for a fraction of a second; before he sat slowly back down. As he did his eyes met mine, and I read the apology in them loud and clear. Seemingly satisfied, Mariusz turned his attention back to me.

  “Are you still dressed?”

  Taking a deep breath, I slipped both of the straps of my dress down my arms; then hooked my thumbs into the rolled-up material, pulling it down over my hips and thighs. When the dress dropped to the floor, I kicked it away, and lowered my eyes in shame. I stood, trembling in just my underwear and shoes.

  Taking a long drink of vodka, Mariusz gestured impatiently with his hand. “The rest, love. I want to see what’s mine.”

  I briefly wondered if it was possible for me to survive this man just long enough that he could die of alcohol poisoning, before I slowly kicked off my left shoe, then my right. And then there was nowhere left for me to go.

  Reaching behind my back I unhooked my bra, and allowed the straps to fall down my arms. As the garment came away from my body Mariusz growled darkly. I held the bra away from me, letting it drop to the floor.

  “You will never wear white underwear again, Liselle. Do you understand me?” Mariusz asked, before tipping the vodka bottle to his lips again.

  I nodded, and my eyes found their way back to the coal black depths of Ilya’s. He wasn’t looking at my body in the hungry way that Mariusz was. He was staring at my face with a strange detached look in his eyes, which I suspected somewhat mirrored the look on my own eyes.