He quickly ducked out of the room, locking it behind him, and rushed back through the tunnel and into his car. Pulling back out onto the main road, he switched on his headlights and entered the manor through the usual front entrance. He was back in his rooms in ten minutes flat.
Raphael knew he wasn’t thinking rationally. He knew he was disobeying the commandments, Gabriel, and his brothers. But he wasn’t being led by his head. It was lust and want and his greatest fantasy within arm’s reach that were in control. And he happily surrendered himself to them.
He went into the closet and pulled a box from the top shelf. From it, he took tape and a gag, and he bound the woman with her arms around her back and her ankles tied. He took the mask off her face and propped her up in the corner. As he was about to push the gag into her mouth, Raphael let himself get a good look at the woman. The club had been dark and cast in a red glow. In this closet, with the bright light illuminating her every feature, he sucked in a sharp breath. She was stunning. Pale and fair. Like an English rose. Dark-blond hair that draped the upper half of her body. Raphael closed his eyes and sat back on his haunches. He dug his hands into his muscled thighs.
He pictured her lying on the bed, naked beneath him. Petals were strewn around her head. She would reach out her hand and pull him toward her with a smile on her pink lips. He would crawl over her body until he lowered to kiss her mouth as he slipped inside her. She would moan in his ear. Raphael would keep it slow at first, moving his mouth to her neck and licking her warm skin. He would gather her hair in his hands. He would twist the lengths, twist and twist until her hair had made a rope. With her blue eyes locked on his, her cheeks flushed as he pushed in and out, pleasure infusing her body, he would lift her until she was in his arms, her breasts pressed against his bare chest. And around her neck her hair would go. Raphael would lower her back down on the soft bed, increasing his speed. With every thrust he would pull tight. Tighter and tighter, her cheeks reddening with pleasure. Her eyes would widen and her rosy lips would part. In three more thrusts, he would spill inside her, her final gasp washing over his heated skin.
He would bring her to his chest and wrap his arms around her soft body, keeping her safe. And she would never leave him. She would be that way forever.
Only ever his for the rest of time . . .
Raphael groaned, leaning forward, bracing his palms on the carpet. He gasped for breath, pulse racing in his neck. He opened his eyes and looked down at his dick. Cum had soaked through his jeans, over his groin, and Raphael clenched his jaw as he recalled the vision, so real he felt he’d been there.
Lifting his gaze to the woman, he reached out and stroked her cheek. “Soon,” he whispered, the warmth from her skin branding his finger with a promise. A promise that, someday soon, she would welcome him into her bed, of her own accord. Invite him to push inside her . . . and then her hair would wrap around her pretty little throat, and she would give him her life. Because she loved him. Because she wanted to gift him her soul.
Because he was her God.
Raphael stared at her sleeping form. He realized he had lost track of time when the bell rang out in the manor, signaling it was time for breakfast. Raphael quickly attached the gag to her mouth, covering her lips with tape. He didn’t want to mark her skin, but she couldn’t be found.
His brothers couldn’t hear her screams.
Raphael jumped into the shower, rinsing the dried cum from his dick. He didn’t touch himself. The pleasure of this kill would come from the gratification of breaking the woman down, swaying her to attraction, then controlling her every move. He forced himself to dress in jeans and a white shirt, pushing his dark hair from his face. He closed the closet doors tight, locked his bedroom, and made his way downstairs.
When he entered the kitchen, he found all of his brothers already present. Lynn, the cook, was busying herself with the food, pushing his brothers out of the way when they got in her busy path. Sela saw him first, speaking with a piece of toast in his mouth as he leaned against the counter. “Well?” he asked, crumbs spilling onto the floor. Sela’s long hair was still wet from his shower.