Bound To The Devil

Luca paced his luxurious prison, knowing exactly what he needed to do. If he played his cards right, he could convince Damien to take him to Valarie. But it wouldn't be easy. Damien was possessive, unpredictable—he would never grant him anything without making Luca pay a price.

The door swung open, and there he was, dressed in an immaculate black suit, his presence overwhelming as always. Damien leaned against the doorframe, eyeing Luca like a predator stalking its prey.

“You’ve been restless, printsessa.”

Luca turned to him, letting his lips curve into a teasing smile. He sauntered over, deliberately slow, his fingers grazing the lapels of Damien’s jacket. “You never let me have any fun,” he purred, tilting his head up to meet Damien’s eyes. “Maybe you should reward me for being so obedient.”

Damien’s jaw clenched, his dark gaze locking onto Luca’s lips. “And what exactly do you want, little one?”

Luca trailed a finger down Damien’s chest, feeling the tension coiling beneath the fabric. “I want to see my sister.”

Damien’s grip on his wrist tightened in an instant. “No.”

Luca only smirked. He stepped even closer, pressing against Damien’s solid frame. “Are you sure?” His voice was a whisper, dripping with temptation. He brushed his lips over Damien’s jaw, barely a ghost of a touch. “Because I can be very... persuasive.”

A low growl rumbled from Damien’s chest. His hands caught Luca’s waist, fingers digging in possessively. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Luca let out a breathy laugh, eyes gleaming with mischief. “And yet, you love it.”

Damien's grip tightened, his self-control slipping. He wanted to punish, to own, to claim every part of Luca for himself. And Luca knew it. He was toying with fire, and Damien was ready to burn for him.

Maybe, just maybe, Luca would get what he wanted.
Luca had learned something dangerous—Damien Volkov had limits, and Luca was dangerously close to pushing past them. He saw it in the way Damien’s body tensed every time he got too close, in the dark fire that burned in his eyes whenever Luca dared to play his game. And tonight, Luca was in the mood to push even further.

Seated on the grand leather chair in the dimly lit lounge, Damien swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, his predatory gaze fixed on Luca as he stood before him.

“You’re testing me,” Damien murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

Luca tilted his head, lips curling into a knowing smile. “Am I?” His fingers traced the rim of Damien’s glass before he plucked it from his grasp, taking a slow sip. His tongue flicked out to catch a stray drop of whiskey, his eyes never leaving Damien’s.

Damien’s grip on the armrest tightened, his jaw clenching. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Luca leaned in, placing the glass aside, and straddled Damien’s lap without hesitation. “Oh, but I do,” he whispered against Damien’s ear, his breath warm, teasing. He ran his fingers through Damien’s hair, nails raking lightly against his scalp. “You like it when I push you. When I test your control.”

A muscle in Damien’s jaw ticked, his breathing heavy. His hands shot up, gripping Luca’s hips, thumbs pressing possessively into his skin. “You’re playing with fire, printsessa.”

Luca laughed softly, tilting his head back just enough to expose his throat—a deliberate invitation. “Then burn me, Damien.”

That was it. The last thread of restraint snapped. A guttural growl escaped Damien as he crushed Luca against him, his mouth claiming Luca’s with bruising force. The room blurred, the whiskey forgotten, the world narrowing down to the fire between them. Damien was lost, and Luca had won.