Chapter 45

Lena stood frozen, the word hitting her like a physical blow. Her mind went blank for a long second, her heart stuttering in her chest.

Wedding?

The steam swirled around them. Elias’s hands remained steady on her body, his presence overwhelming and inescapable. The question hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken, as the water continued to fall and the weight of his words settled over her like chains wrapped in silk.

“Wedding? What wedding, Master?”

Elias turned her gently to face him, his large hand cupping her chin with firm but tender possession. His steel-gray eyes locked onto her sea blue eyes, intense and unyielding, a faint, knowing smile curving his lips.

“Why, my princess? Of course OUR wedding.”

Lena’s eyes grew wide, her breath catching in her throat. Fragments of conversations with Clara resurfaced — vague mentions of future plans, of binding commitments, of the inevitable path her life had been set upon from the moment Elias had claimed her. She had known, deep down, even if she had never fully allowed herself to face it.

“I ... Master, but ... When did we talk about this? I didn’t agree to getting married,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and quiet defiance.

Elias’s thumb brushed slowly across her lower lip, his touch both soothing and commanding. He leaned in closer, his naked body pressed against hers under the warm spray, his huge cock brushing against her stomach as he spoke.

“My sweet love,” he murmured, his voice, laced with that absolute certainty that always made her feel both small and utterly owned. “This is inevitable. Us getting married. I have told you multiple times. You are mine for the rest of your life. But this needs to become official. My parents arrive in a few days. I have already spoken with your mother...”

Lena didn’t hear the rest of his words. They blurred into a distant hum as numbness spread through her chest. The steam-filled bathroom suddenly felt too small, too intimate, the weight of his declaration pressing down on her like an invisible chain. Marriage. Official. Binding in the eyes of the world. She had always known, in some quiet corner of her heart, that Elias saw her as his forever. But hearing it spoken so plainly, so confidently, as if it were already decided — as if her agreement was a mere formality — left her reeling.

Elias finished washing her with the same meticulous care, his hands gliding over every inch of her body — soaping her shoulders, her breasts, the curve of her waist, and between her thighs with deliberate, possessive strokes. He rinsed her thoroughly, then turned off the water and wrapped her in a thick, warm towel. He dried her with loving patience, patting her skin gently, taking extra time on the sensitive areas that still trembled from his earlier attentions. His touch was both dominant and achingly tender, a silent reminder that every part of her belonged to him.

“Master, I can’t marry you. I just can’t,” Lena said suddenly, her voice gaining a fragile strength as she clutched the towel to her chest.

Elias paused, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at her. A slow, amused smirk played on his lips, his eyes gleaming with dark pleasure.

“Really? Why not, my little girl? Why?” His tone was mockingly gentle, as if her resistance was both endearing and entirely futile — an established event that her words could not undo.

Lena felt the mockery in it, the way he treated her protest like the whim of a child who didn’t yet understand the rules of the world he had built around her. It stung, igniting a spark of defiance she rarely allowed herself to show.

“I refuse to sign it,” she said, her voice firmer this time, though it still trembled at the edges.

Elias’s smirk deepened. He stepped closer, towering over her, one hand sliding beneath the towel to rest possessively on her bare hip. His thumb stroked the soft skin there in slow, deliberate circles.

“You refuse?” he repeated, his voice dropping into that dangerously soft register that always made her knees weak. “My sweet, defiant little pet. You forget yourself. You belong to me. Completely. Marriage is simply the world recognizing what has always been true. You will sign it, my love. Because it pleases me. Because it binds you to me in every way that matters. And because deep down, you know there is no other path for you.”

He pulled her closer, the towel slipping slightly as he pressed her naked body against his. His free hand cupped her chin again, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You will be my wife, Lena. In every sense of the word. And you will wear my ring with the same pride you wear my marks on your skin. Do you understand?”

Lena’s breath came in shallow gasps, her body responding to his dominance even as her mind reeled. The bathroom felt smaller, the steam thicker, the weight of his words settling over her like the softest, most unbreakable chains. Elias’s eyes held hers, patient and unyielding, waiting for the inevitable surrender.

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms and his certainty, Lena felt the terrifying, intoxicating truth of it all. There was no escape. But did that mean she would stop trying? ________________

Roger carried Mia through the quiet corridors of the guest house with the same effortless strength that defined him, her small, bandaged body cradled securely against his broad chest. The blanket he had wrapped around her earlier remained tucked tightly, shielding her from the cool evening air, but he could feel the faint tremors running through her — exhaustion, fear, and the lingering shock of everything that had happened. He moved with deliberate care, his steps measured, as if afraid even the slightest jostle might cause her more pain.

He brought her straight to her bedroom, the same room where he had tucked her in the past few days, hoping she would feel safe. The space was softly lit by a single bedside lamp, the large bed with its crisp white sheets waiting like a sanctuary. Roger lowered her onto the mattress with infinite gentleness, as though she were made of the most delicate glass. Mia barely felt the bed beneath her — his arms had been so steady, so protective, that the transition was seamless.

Then, with the same quiet authority, he began unwrapping the blanket from around her body. His fingers worked methodically, peeling away the layers until she lay there in nothing but the thin hospital gown. Mia’s cheeks burned with a deep, mortified blush as the cool air kissed her exposed skin.

“Mmm ... no ... no...” she whispered, her voice small and trembling, her hands instinctively moving to clutch at the edges of the gown as he began opening the gown.

Roger caught her wrists gently but firmly, pinning them down with one large hand while his eyes bored into hers — deep, intense blue that left no room for argument.

“Mia ... you heard what Ania said,” he said, his voice low and steady, laced with that unyielding dominance she was only beginning to truly understand. “You don’t want these wounds to get infected now, do you?”

He stared deep into her dark eyes, holding her gaze until she felt stripped bare even before the gown was removed. Mia’s breath hitched, her resistance faltering under the weight of his stare.

“But—”

“No buts, Mia.” His tone sharpened just enough to make her flinch. “Besides, with the stunt you pulled — putting yourself in danger like that — you don’t deserve privacy or clothes right now. Put your hands away little one. Now.”

Mia’s eyes grew wide. She had never seen Roger like this — so firm, so unyielding, his usual gentle patience replaced by something darker, more commanding. It frightened her. It also sent an inexplicable flutter through her chest. Slowly, reluctantly, she let her arms fall to her sides, her fingers twisting nervously in the sheets.

Roger’s gaze softened only slightly as he reached for the ties of the hospital gown. With careful, deliberate movements, he opened it, peeling the thin fabric away from her body until she lay completely exposed before him. The cool air brushed over her naked skin, making her shiver. Scratches and bruises marked her olive-toned body in angry red and purple blooms. Bandages covered several deeper wounds on her arms and legs. Despite everything, she was still breathtaking — her full golden full breasts rising and falling with each shaky breath, the gentle curve of her belly, the softness of her inner thighs.

Roger’s eyes darkened with heat as his stare roamed over her. He discarded the gown to the side without a second glance.

Mia immediately tried to pull the blanket back up to cover her upper breasts, her cheeks burning crimson with shame.

Roger bent down, surprisingly gentle, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Sweetheart, please don’t make this harder. I need to see your body. Your wounds. Your dressings...”

Then, without warning, he captured her lips in a deep, claiming kiss. His mouth moved against hers with slow, possessive hunger, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips until she parted for him. At the same time, his hands stroked her sides through the thin blanket, warm and soothing, gradually coaxing her fingers to loosen their desperate grip.

Slowly, patiently, he pried the blanket away from her body. Mia whimpered into the kiss as the fabric slid lower, exposing the gentle swell of her breasts, then her olive-toned belly with its bandages. Roger’s hands followed the path of the blanket, caressing her skin with careful touch, his fingers brushing lightly over the dressings on her stomach. She gasped against his mouth, a mix of shame and unexpected pleasure shooting through her.

“Hey ... shh ... it’s okay, my love, Its just me.” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with emotion. “I will take care of you my little one. But what you did was intensely endangering. Do you know you came close to dying? What if we couldn’t find you in time my love?”

He pulled the blanket even lower, exposing the soft, golden skin of her lower belly and the delicate mound between her thighs. Mia’s breath came in short, panicked gasps. Roger’s hands continued their exploration, one sliding down to touch her through the thin panties she still wore, his fingers pressing lightly against her most intimate parts.

“Mia ... I would give my own life to protect yours. How could you think I intend to take away your life?” His voice was thick with a mixture of hurt and fierce possession as his other hand hooked into the waistband of her panties.

“No, Roger, please—” Her hands flew down to stop him, trying to push his away.

He caught both her wrists effortlessly in one large hand and pinned them firmly above her head. His grip was ironclad but not painful — a clear, undeniable assertion of control.

“No, little girl,” he said, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm register. “There won’t be any barrier between you and me from now on. Your body and your mind remain open and accessible to me. No more escape. No more running.”

With his free hand, he swiftly pulled her panties down to her thighs. Mia’s cheeks burned with fresh humiliation as the cool air touched her most private places.

“Lift those legs now,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Roger’s gaze darkened with raw, possessive hunger as he slowly pulled the thin panties down her trembling thighs and off her legs completely. He discarded them to the side without a second glance, leaving Mia utterly bare before him on the large bed. Despite the angry red scratches and fading bruises that marked her olive skin, despite the neat white bandages covering several deeper wounds, she was a breathtaking sight. Her long, shaky legs stretched out before him, her ample thighs soft and inviting, the gentle curve of her hips leading to the delicate, exposed mound between them.

But what truly captured his attention was the dense, dark thatch of hair covering her most intimate places. It was thick and luxurious — a wild, untamed patch of long, silky black curls that spread generously over her pussy and rose in a soft trail all the way up to her lower belly. The dark hair glistened slightly in the soft lamplight, framing her swollen, glistening folds like a secret treasure she had kept hidden from the world.

Roger’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smirk. “Look at here,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with appreciation. His fingers snaked down between her thighs, stroking through the thick, dark curls with deliberate, possessive strokes. The hair was soft and springy beneath his touch, warm from her body heat. “So you thought you could hide yourself under these hair my beautiful pumpkin?”

Mia’s face burned with deep, mortifying shame. She was on full display — completely naked, legs slightly parted, her most private parts exposed to his intense gaze and wandering fingers. The dark, dense hair felt suddenly obscene under his touch, as if she had been caught keeping something forbidden. She tried to close her legs instinctively, but Roger’s free hand pressed firmly on her inner thigh, holding her open.

“Have you ever shaved here, pumpkin?” he asked, his voice dark with amusement as he continued running his fingers through the thick curls, tugging gently, parting them to reveal the slick, pink flesh beneath. His touch was both exploratory and claiming, stroking the soft hair and the sensitive skin it protected.

She shook her head no.

Mia whimpered, her body trembling with a confusing mix of humiliation and unwanted arousal. The way he touched her — so casually possessive, so thoroughly — made her feel exposed in a way that went far beyond physical nakedness. She was utterly vulnerable, every secret part of her laid bare for his inspection.

Roger’s smirk deepened as he watched her reaction, his fingers still playing through the dark hair. Then, without warning, he bent down and captured her lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His mouth claimed hers with slow, hungry intensity, his tongue sliding past her lips to tangle with hers. Mia moaned into the kiss, frantic with need. His touch — the combination of his fingers in her hair, the heat of his body so close, the way he kissed her like he owned every breath she took — made her crazy. Her hips twitched helplessly, her pussy growing wetter under his teasing fingers as fresh arousal flooded through her.

He kissed her until she was breathless, until the only thing she could focus on was the taste of him and the possessive way his hand continued to explore her dark, hairy mound.

“You are mine, Mia,” he whispered against her swollen lips. “Every inch of you. Including this beautiful, hidden treasure. And from now on, there will be no more hiding. There will be no running. Not from me.”

Mia could only whimper softly in response, her body burning with shame, need, and the overwhelming realization that Roger’s dominance was no longer something she could run from. He had her. Completely. And the way his fingers continued to stroke through her thick dark hair told her he intended to enjoy every single part of his claim.