Bell pushed the bedroom door open.
The only light came from the dim amber glow of the wall sconces. Falon was thrashing under the black silk sheet. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She was losing the battle against the drug.
Bell tossed the silver medical case onto a leather armchair in the corner of the room. It landed with a heavy thud.
He was not going to use the counteragent. He was going to be the cure.
He walked to the edge of the bed. He placed one knee on the mattress. The bed dipped under his weight.
Falon felt the movement. She rolled toward him instinctively.
Her slender arms reached out from under the covers. She wrapped them around his waist. She pressed her hot, flushed cheek against the cold metal of his belt buckle. She let out a long, desperate sigh.
That sound shattered the last wall of Bell's restraint.
He let out a low growl. He grabbed the black silk sheet and ripped it away, throwing it onto the floor.
He grabbed both of her wrists with his large hands. He pulled her arms up and pinned them flat against the mattress above her head.
Falon's chest arched upward. The drug made her skin hypersensitive. The cool air of the room felt like ice, but his hands felt like branding irons.
Tears of sheer physical frustration leaked from the corners of her eyes.
Bell leaned down. He brushed his lips against her cheek, catching a salty tear.
His touch was surprisingly gentle, but his voice was a dark, dangerous whisper.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Bell asked.
Falon squeezed her eyes shut. Jerod's voice echoed in her skull again. Do whatever you want with her.
Her heart cramped with a sickening pain. She opened her eyes. She looked at the man hovering over her. She did not know him, but right now, he was her only anchor.
She clenched her jaw and nodded. Once. Hard.
Bell did not hold back anymore.
He lowered his head. His mouth traced a burning path down her jawline, down her neck, to the hollow of her throat. Everywhere his lips touched, a fire ignited beneath her skin.
Falon felt her old life peeling away. The perfect, obedient fiancée died in that warehouse. The woman on this bed was someone else.
She twisted her wrists, breaking free from his grip.
She reached up and grabbed his face with both hands. She pulled his mouth down to hers. She kissed him with a violent, reckless desperation. It was a kiss meant to destroy.
Bell responded with equal ferocity. He grabbed the ruined fabric of her gown and tore it down the middle. The expensive silk ripped with a loud, satisfying sound.
There was nothing left between them.
A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the dark bedroom. A second later, a massive crack of thunder shook the windows.
In that exact moment, Bell pushed forward, burying himself inside her.
Falon let out a sharp, breathless scream. Her fingernails dug deep into the muscles of his back. She dragged her nails downward, leaving four bloody scratches across his skin.
The pain was sharp, tearing through her body, but it was instantly swallowed by a massive wave of heat.
Bell froze. He rested his forehead against hers. His chest heaved, his hot breath hitting her face. He held himself perfectly still, giving her body time to adjust to the invasion.
Falon was panting. Sweat dripped down her neck. She looked up into his eyes. They were pitch black, filled with a terrifying, absolute power. It was a dominance she had never felt with Jerod.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. She tilted her hips upward, taking him deeper.
"Do not stop," Falon whispered. Her voice was raw and broken.
The command broke the invisible chain holding him back.
Bell began to move. His thrusts were hard, relentless, and punishing. The heavy wooden bed frame groaned against the wall with every impact.
The only sounds in the room were the harsh slaps of skin against skin and their ragged breathing.
Falon felt like she was being ripped apart and put back together. Every time he drove into her, the memories of Jerod fractured. The fake smiles, the cold dismissals, the betrayal-they were all pulverized under the weight of Bell's body.
She was a small boat caught in a violent hurricane, and Bell was the only thing keeping her from drowning.
The tension in her lower stomach coiled tighter and tighter. It became unbearable.
Suddenly, the coil snapped.
A blinding white light exploded behind her eyes. Her entire body locked up in a violent spasm. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed through her.
A second later, Bell let out a deep, animalistic roar. He drove into her one last time and emptied himself inside her.
He collapsed on top of her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
Their chests heaved together. Their skin was slick with sweat.
Falon turned her head to the side. She gasped for air. Her face was flushed crimson.
Bell rolled off her, but he did not let her go. He pulled her flush against his side. He wrapped a heavy arm around her waist and tucked her head against his chest.
Falon listened to the steady, powerful thud of his heart.
The drug was finally burning out of her system. A crushing wave of exhaustion hit her. Her eyelids felt like they were made of lead.
Just before the darkness took her, she felt a soft, warm pressure against her forehead. A kiss. It felt incredibly tender. It felt like a promise.
Bell lay awake in the dark. He stared at the ceiling.
He gently brushed a damp strand of hair away from Falon's sleeping face. His eyes softened, revealing a deep, obsessive love that he had hidden for years.
He carefully reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone.
He opened an encrypted messaging app. He typed a quick command to his head of security.
Wipe all surveillance footage in the Brooklyn warehouse district for the last three hours. Erase her trail. Find the man with the bleeding leg. Make him disappear permanently.
He hit send. He put the phone down and pulled Falon closer to his chest. She was finally his.
