Mistress to a sadistic beast

Mia's pov

Wrapping my arms around my body, I stared Up at the night’s sky. The moon glowed down, and it made me smile.

Closing my eyes, I stood perfectly still, and in a rare moment of my life, I felt a sense of Peace. These times were always few and far between in my life. I had learned long ago to not always expect them, but to enjoy them while they happened.

After taking a deep breath, I released it slowly, counting the seconds.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the rare beauty herself.”

The dark voice sent a shiver down her spine, and Not in a good way, either. Opening my eyes, I stared straight ahead, feeling the man approach. He was the enemy. My senses told her to be on High alert. I didn’t have a single weapon on hand.

Gritting my teeth, I tried not to react.

“Are you not going to scream?” he asked.

His warmth seeped through my dress, and I Tensed up as his hands suddenly appeared. The moon provided enough light for me to recognize the dragon markings imprinted around his neck, but there was only one man in the entire family who would have that kind of tattoo.

My family had warned me about him.

Killian De Luca. The most feared and oldest son. Of the empire. Our sworn enemies.

What was he doing at my home and at my secret balcony at that?. No one was around. He’d be able to kill me easily.

I had done the unthinkable and let down my Guard. I should have known there was nowhere in this world where I would be safe. My heart raced, but I didn’t move. I didn’t even flinch as those arms went to my waist, as if he had a right to touch me, which he did not.

No one was here to hear my pleas.

“Stay away from me or you would regret it,” I said.

He chuckled amusingly.

“Would I? Or is your father becoming too reckless with your safety?”

My hands clenched into fists. No one insulted. My father or my family. The desire to kill him was strong, but I kept myself in check, not wanting to give away too much.

Killian pressed his face against my neck.

“You smell good.”

What was his end game?

What did he want from me?

“You know, I could steal you away right now. None of your pictures do your beauty justice.”

I had heard enough. Slamming my elbow into his ribs, I stomped my foot down on his and spun around to face him, landing a blow to his face. My attack caught him off guard, but as I went to slap him, he captured my wrist. His grip was firm, making me cry out from the sudden jolt of pain. “Let go of me, you animal!”

“You’ve got some fight in you. I like that. It will be so much more fun to watch you beneath me.”

“You’ve got no chance in hell.” I would fight him no matter what. “There is no way an italian would ever be with a Russian. You are filth and the worst plague to walk this fucking earth.”

“Fighting words.”

“I can do more than that.” I was ready to kill him. He might not have been directly responsible for killing my mother, but he was an Italian. They were all the same.

“Mark my words, Maria. You will be mine.”

“Over my dead body.”

“We will see.”

It've been three years after he had said those words at her 16th birthday night.

I spun around in a circle, taking in the grandeur of my surroundings. My shirt was torn, exposing one shoulder along with my bra strap. My hair had been pulled from the confines of my bun. My jeans were still intact, but now there were tear marks where i'd been roughly kidnapped.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the sudden fear. There was no reason to be irrational. I didn’t like the look of the house. It already screamed money. Being taken someplace that looked wealthy wasn’t a good sign as far as I was concerned. Gripping the back of my neck, I tried not to think too hard. This wasn’t good. None of this was.

My guards hadn’t put up any fight either. I hadn’t been able to find a means of escape from the Russian empire in the past three years. Every time I tried to find one possible avenue, my father thwarted it. Either by stopping me from going away to college, or constantly having guards at my side. My mother had warned me more than once that if my father saw me as a feasible income, or a means to get what he wanted, he'd use me.

Had that time come?

Had his enemies figured out who I was?

My coming-of-age party had been a huge problem. Up until that point, no one knew who I was, or what I meant to my father who was the leader of the Russians. It was like I didn’t exist, but since then, all had known what I looked like and now there was no getting away from it.

There was a bed against the far wall, looking as imposing as ever. There was no way I was going to sit on it. I stayed perfectly still and kept my gaze on the door, which was locked. That was the first thing I tried, to see if there was any chance of escape.

There wasn’t.

Even trying to flee from the window was useless. It was far too high, and the windows were locked.

The only way I'd be able to escape through them was if I had a rock or something to break the glass. That would only alert my captors to my intention of escaping. No matter where I looked, there was nothing I could do. Absolutely nothing.

The large, imposing bed was the only piece of furniture in the room. Only one door. There wasn’t even a closet or any drawers. Nothing. I'd already tried to look under the bed, and nothing was there.

This was impossible.

I wasn’t going to beg or cause a scene. A Russian never did any such thing. I was highly embarrassed that even after all of my training, I hadn’t been able to stop the men from taking me.

I had to wonder if my mother would be ashamed if she could see me now. I shook my head, refusing to think of that. I couldn’t. Right now, all I could do was attempt to survive.

That was it.

Hands clenched into fists, I tried not to think. Panicking wouldn’t get me out of here, but being in control and collected just might. It was a long shot. I was aware of that, but it was a shot I was more than willing to take. Shock raced down my spine as soon as I heard the lock flick open. Three men rushed into the room. None of them attempted to hide their identities. All of them charged toward me, and I attempted to fight them off, punching one, kicking another, but it was the third one who wrapped his arms around my waist, hauling me off her feet.

He placed me over his shoulder, and I screamed at him to let me go, landing blows against his ass, trying to get him to stop, even attempting to kick him. I wanted to get out of here, to be let down. Nothing helped. They left the room, and I tried to watch every single footstep so I would be able to figure out an escape. This was what happened when My father’s thirst for blood was far stronger than his love for his daughter.

Tears began to fill my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I squeezed them closed. There was no way I'd ever show weakness. Not to my captor. Not to these men. Certainly not to my father. I had long ago stopped crying. No man deserved my tears. The men came to a stop, and I was suddenly dumped unceremoniously onto the floor like I was nothing. They stepped back, and I opened my eyes to see several men. Some of whom I recognized as my father’s men.