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They had once been the school's legendary lovers, their passion a flame that burned brightly enough for everyone to see. But that flame was extinguished by the harsh reality of distance when university admissions pulled them toward separate dreams. Life took a sharp, jagged turn, and in the seven years that followed, their love faded into a haunting, vague memory. Or so they let themselves believe. Now, Ethan King is no longer that boy; he is a cold-hearted billionaire with ice in his veins. And Olivia? She stands before him with a radiant smile that masks a heavy, dark secret. ** "You want to be my real wife, right?" Ethan hissed. He pressed his fingers hard into the soft flesh of my cheeks, stepping into my personal space until there was no air left between us. I could feel the scorching heat radiating from his body, a familiar warmth that made my resolve melt instantly. "Think carefully, wifey. The rights of a wife come with heavy responsibilities," he warned, his voice a low growl that pulled me from my spinning thoughts. I looked up, drowning in those blazing blue eyes-eyes that were no longer filled with the tenderness of our youth, but were now dark and shimmering with raw, unfiltered lust. I could feel the hard line of his arousal through his tailored slacks, making me gulp. A shiver of trepidation ran down my spine. I averted my gaze, my breath coming in short, jagged gasps as the air in the office grew heavy. "Let's begin this husband-wife relationship properly," he murmured. His finger trailed a slow, agonizing path down my face, stopping just above my lips. My breath hitched. "Let's consummate this marriage." His hot breath fanned across my skin, and I instinctively closed my eyes in fear. When I had demanded my rights as his wife, I never imagined he would view those rights as a purely physical transaction-a way to claim me without loving me. My heart skipped a beat as he suddenly surged forward, throwing me onto the leather couch of his office cabin. Before I could even gasp, he climbed over me, his heavy frame pressing me into the cushions. My stomach dropped. This proximity was creating havoc in my system, a chaotic mix of terror and an old, buried hunger. His fingers began to trail down the column of my neck, leaving a wake of goosebumps that made my skin prickle. "I warned you to stay away from me, woman. But you chose this. You chose to be my wife, so now... you must be ready," he whispered hungrily. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his lips trailing hot, demanding kisses. Soft moans escaped me-a betrayal of my own body. I had never felt anything like this before; it was a sensory overload that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. His hand found its way beneath my top, his palm covering my breast. As he squeezed softly, a low moan of pure pleasure was dragged from my throat. I could feel my core turning wet, my body reacting to him with a mind of its own. In that moment, my fears began to dissolve. I realized I was ready to be his in every way. Only Ethan, even in his darkness, possessed the magical touch capable of drowning out the echoes of that torturous incident from my past. He pulled back abruptly. For a second, I feared he would stop, but my assumption was shattered when he yanked my top down past my shoulder. He bit the sensitive skin hard, making me cry out in sudden pain. His eyes were no longer those of the boy I loved; they were filled with a predatory hunger. He bit me again, and the "torture" continued, a cycle of sharp stings and overwhelming heat. Tears began to prick at the corners of my eyes. "You wanted to be my wife, huh?" he gritted out through clenched teeth. "Now get ready to bear my torture in the form of love." He dipped his head to bite at my cleavage, and a sob escaped me. I was certain I was about to be consumed entirely when the sharp buzz of the intercom sliced through the air. I thanked my stars for the interruption; it felt like a divine intervention. My decision to become his "real" wife felt like a terrifying mistake. I never thought he could turn so animalistic. Ethan pulled away, his breathing heavy as he went to answer the intercom. I scrambled to my feet, my hands trembling as I adjusted my disheveled dress and smoothed my hair. "You're lucky you were saved from me just now," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. He walked back toward me and, to my confusion, knelt on the floor in front of me. I gasped as he tucked his head between the folds of my skirt, inhaling deeply. His tongue trailed a searing path against my thigh, a final, wicked reminder of his power over me. He emerged from my skirt with a dark, triumphant smirk. "I'll be waiting for tonight, wifey," he whispered, kissing my knee with an evil smile. As he turned back to his desk, I realized with a sinking heart that I hadn't just reclaimed my husband; I had signed a soul-binding deal with a devil.
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