Summary: The Dagger King covets both the Blacksteel hidden beneath Varelune and the daughter of its chief. But when the village refuses to surrender, Dex rides there himself to claim what belongs to him. Between war, dragons, and a forced marriage, Ari and the king will have to learn how to love each other for the sake of the kingdom.
Characters: Medieval fantasy AU (alternative universe) Benjamin Poindexter "Dex" x Archer Original Female Character
Warnings: violence, blood, forced marriage, death, dark romance, enemies to lovers, non-con, r!ape, loss of virginity, cruel Dex, step-brother Matt Murdock
Author: Blackcat-9696 / Do not copy, publish, translate my work or claim it as your own.
Author note: A long chapter because I like it...🐈⬛
Tag list: @not-the-teen-witch
MASTERLIST
Chapter 2: A Crown of Violence
It was springtime. The cherry trees had fully bloomed, and their petals drifted with the winds of Varelune. Endless fields of corn stretched toward the walls on one side and the village on the other. Dex played with a yellow stalk of corn, the tip resting between his lips as he lay in the dusty ground beneath a tree in the middle of the fields. The sun stood high in the sky. The distant sounds of the village were peaceful, laughter, hammering, and the waterfall by the river creating a soft rushing echo. The place was pleasant, too beautiful to be real. So different from the palace and the whispers Dex had to endure every day. All because he had blinded his half-brother in an accident.
He regretted what he had done, but he also hated Matt for being the reason behind everyone’s hatred. He was the outcast, the mad prince of blades, The Dagger Prince. His parents barely dared to look him in the eye anymore, so terrified of him they had become. Why was everyone so determined to call him monstrous? After hearing it over and over again, strange thoughts had begun growing inside him, dreams of bloodshed and slaughter like the stories from war books. Dex thought while sprawled in the dirt, uncaring of his princely clothes, and like any fifteen-year-old boy, he drifted through his thoughts without paying much attention to his surroundings.
A gray pebble landed against his thigh. He uncrossed his legs and sat up to see where it had come from. A group of teenagers his age approached through the cornfields. They all wore decent farmer clothes: straw hats, worn tunics full of little holes, brown trousers, and leather boots. There were nine or ten of them. Dex stopped counting as he rose to his feet. He gripped the pebble tightly in his hand, just in case. The village boys and girls looked irritated and offended to find the arrogant prince occupying their favorite resting place.
“Be gone from here. This is our resting ground.” The tallest boy threatened, shifting his pitchfork toward him.
“And yet I do not see your name carved upon this tree.” Dex adjusted his buttoned tunic embroidered with golden threads.
“We’re not afraid of you. You think you can come to Varelune and steal our treasure? You’re nothing but a little bastard, and your mother is a whore.”
“What is your name?” Dex clenched his fists.
“Why?” The tall boy jabbed the tip of his pitchfork against Dex’s princely jacket. “You want to go cry in your mother’s skirts?”
“No. I shall ask one of my father’s men to take your head.” He spoke through clenched teeth.
“My name is Nyor. You should watch your tongue. If someone cuts it out, none will know it was us.”
The tall, skinny boy stepped closer to Dex, continuing to press the sharp ends of the pitchfork against him. Behind him, the other village teenagers laughed and mocked the prince as he stood cornered beneath the tree.
“I could pierce your heart this very moment, and your parents would not even mourn your death. Because you are a monster. A killer. A bastard!”
Dex burned with rage. His cheeks turned red as fury climbed higher and higher inside him. He squeezed the pebble in his hand so tightly it dug into his flesh. He was so angry, so exhausted of being judged for one terrible mistake made in a moment of rage, that he suddenly screamed.
“I am not a bastard! You are!” He hurled the pebble straight at Nyor’s forehead.
“Aah!” He cried out before staring at the blood on his hand. “You wounded me? How dare you wound me? Just because you are a prince, you think you can do whatever you please? For once, you will suffer the consequences of your actions.”
Nyor raised his pitchfork, and his friends did the same with their tools. The swings were fast and circular, shaped by years of working the fields or tormenting newcomers in the village. And the cut Dex felt was agonizing, a pain unlike anything he had ever known. Tears burst from his eyes as he covered his cheek and collapsed to his knees among the cherry petals. He curled into himself, his skin burning while the wound stung terribly. Blood kept pouring into his hand, so he pressed the other over it as well. Nyor looked proud of himself while the rest of the group laughed loudly at the crying prince.
An arrow buried itself right in front of the bully’s boots.
Dex slightly lifted himself from his crouched position while the group looked around in confusion, searching for whoever had dared challenge them. Another arrow struck the handle of Nyor’s pitchfork, making him drop it on instinct. The cornfields were tall, golden stalks swaying left and right beneath the wind while more arrows flew toward them from nowhere. Dex remained untouched. Though the arrows did not wound the villagers, they landed close enough to make it clear they easily could have. The archer behind them was skilled far beyond anything the young prince had ever witnessed. He still held both hands against his cheek, yet he no longer curled into himself. He stood tall now, back straight and chin high, exactly as he had been raised. His confidence returned all at once, and he laughed as Nyor and his bullies fled through the cornfields while a rain of arrows chased after them.
“Who are you? Where is my savior so I may ask my father to reward him with his weight in gold?” Dex already rejoiced at the thought. Perhaps he was not alone after all, and the realization comforted him deeply. “Come out of your hiding place, archer. Your prince commands it.”
Fifteen-year-old Dex was not very tall, but his dagger-throwing skills were just as impressive as this person’s archery. His dark brown hair drifted over his angelic face as a child stepped out from the towering stalks of corn. She wore trousers like the boys, which made him frown. Her braid kept her oval face clear, and her long lashes fluttered prettily while she slung her bow across her shoulder.
“It was your doing?” he asked, hardly believing his own eyes. “How old are you?”
“Ten.” She answered while walking toward him. “Sit down, my prince.”
Dex dropped onto the ground with a grimace.
“I have medicines,” she said casually. Like an adult already tired of life, as though his wound was nothing remarkable at all. She searched through her satchel and pulled out flowers that she crushed inside her mouth. “Remove your hands, Prince Benjamin of Java.”
“Dex. You may call me Dex.” He remained frozen.
“I am Ysaria of Varelune… Ari is the name my father prefers to call me by.” She leaned over him, smacked his hands away, and he hissed as he pulled them back. She took the green paste of crushed flowers and spread it carefully over the wound. “It shall leave a scar, but you will not grow sick from the Blacksteel. I have seen men die from a mere cut.” She sighed softly to herself before turning away. “You must be more careful.”
“Wait, where are you going? Surely you are not leaving me now?”
“Do not follow me.” Ysaria drew her bow toward him when she sensed Dex stepping after her.
“I only wish to thank you!” He raised his hands awkwardly, embarrassed by how wary she seemed of him.
“You wish to thank me?” She lowered her bow and thought for a long moment. Dex tried to touch the mixture hardening against his cheek, but it hurt too much. “I want a dragon.”
“A dragon? I do not possess one.” He laughed, amused. Even Matt, the favorite child, did not have one either. “They are nearly extinct.”
“My father told me the Great Dragoness still left eggs in kingdoms beyond the sea.” She shrugged before walking deeper into the corn.
“But I do not know where to find them.” Dex followed after her, and then suddenly she vanished from his sight. “Ari? Wait!”
He called her name again and again until he eventually grew tired of searching and returned to the village to find his father, the king who made his yearly visit to the kingdom’s most strategically important village. The king said nothing about Dex’s injury. Only the royal physicians concerned themselves with him. And then there was that brave little girl who had saved him. He knew he would never forget her.
Ysaria woke with a violent gasp, completely unprepared to find herself submerged inside a massive golden tub. Her head fell backward into the milky water before she found the curved edge and emerged with a sharp breath. She struggled to breathe, caught between panic and the desperate need for air, barely able to understand where she was. The chamber was enormous, large enough to fit two cottages from her village. The lion tapestries, the towering windows, the ridiculously large bed, and this tub of milky water covered in floating rose petals all left her disoriented. She wiped her face several times. The water tasted sweet, a mixture of honey meant to soften the skin.
When she turned her head to the other side, she spotted a servant woman dressed in a simple sky-blue gown with a leather belt and white collar. She held a bundle of soaked cloth dripping onto the floor. Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her green eyes stood out beneath the light. Ysaria stared at her as though she had three heads. The two women remained frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Ysaria’s gaze darted around the room until she found what she was looking for: a weapon.
There was a basket of fruit sitting on a small round table beside washing oils and other tools meant to clean royal women. What caught her attention was the long-bladed razor. She burst out of the water, stumbled toward the table, and snatched the razor before pointing it at the woman. Before she could speak, her eyes dropped to her own body. The hair on her legs and between her thighs had been shaved. She panted, a deep frown pulling at her face while too many thoughts flooded her mind at once, making her stutter.
“What did you do to me?! How dare you touch me!”
“The king ordered me to clean you, my queen.” The woman answered fearfully as she rose from her kneeling position, terrified Ysaria might come at her with the razor. She threw the cloth sponge back into the water, splashing Ysaria in the face, and the latter growled in irritation. “Oh, I am so sorry. I did not mean to-”
“Where are my clothes?!” She punctuated every word by moving the razor. Her anger only grew stronger as her memories returned. The king had killed her father, and now he wanted her prepared for him. “I am not staying here another minute, is that clear? Give me my clothes. Now.”
“Please… My name is Ana.” She lifted her hands carefully. “My sole purpose is to assist you with your daily needs, my queen. The king is not expecting you yet. I was washing you, preparing you for the day.”
“Queen? I am no queen. I am Ysaria of Varelune. Daughter of Chief Ala-” Her face suddenly darkened, her eyes falling to the clean stone floor. She stumbled backward as the image of her father’s slit throat flashed before her eyes. It was horrible. Her heart shattered all over again. Her long damp waves fell around her face as her head lowered along with her trembling arm.
“My queen…” Ana hurried toward her with a clean cloth. She used Ysaria’s distraction to wrap it around her before guiding her toward the canopy bed dressed in hand-embroidered sheets.
“Where is the king? My father will not rest in peace until I spill his blood.” She shivered, still clutching the razor in her hand. Her back was slightly hunched while Ana rubbed warmth into her arms. “What he did is unforgivable. I know I can rally Varelune to my cause. We must avenge his death. We must.”
“The king made his decision. He has the right to decide who lives and who dies among his subjects.”
“He is no God. I remember saving him, he was afraid and I saved him. And this is how he repays me? He knows what I did for him, and he destroys everything I love? Why such cruelty? Why marry me and force me to share my bed with the man who killed my father?” Her hand trembled as she spoke. “I am going to kill him.”
“My queen!?”
“Do not call me that!” She shoved Ana away and stood while clutching the cloth tightly around herself. “I said I am no queen, and I never will be. Where are my clothes?”
“I burned them.” Ana answered, shocked that Ysaria would even want to wear the rags she had arrived in.
“Do you have a death wish too?”
“I have proper garments prepared for you. You will look beautiful in them. Please, allow me to do my work. I could be punished if you leave this room looking unpresentable. I was chosen among twenty candidates for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. My family depends on me. Please, my queen, listen to me.” Ana pressed her hands together as though praying while begging Ysaria.
“Fine. Just this once. But do not call me my queen. Call me Ari. If you are to become my shadow, then we must trust one another.”
“I will carry all your secrets to my grave, my- Uh, Ari.”
“Find me a sword, and I will wear whatever you want.”
“That is impossible…”
“My bow and arrows? Where did he hide them?”
Ana crossed the chamber, and Ysaria followed after her, water dripping beneath her feet while the cloth wrapped around her was already soaked through.
“He did not hide them, Ari.” She opened the wardrobe where dozens of folded garments rested beside lace-up boots in different colors and jewelry both ancient and precious. She picked out an outfit and undergarments before pulling them from the pile. “The king is currently training in the royal gardens. Your weapons may be there.”
“Ana, I need to defend myself against him.” Ysaria insisted, but Ana continued preparing her clothes. “Do you understand what is at stake? I must find a way back to Varelune before- Give me a weapon. Any weapon.”
“The one in your hand will do.” Ana unfolded the gown and loosened the laces. Ysaria fell silent for a moment before suddenly grabbing the front of Ana’s dress and yanking her toward her.
“But this razor is too small!”
“So are your chances of escaping this place.”
The neckline of her gown formed a flattering V-shape that accentuated her figure. Her full chest was tightly bound inside a corset that created a view far too feminine around her cleavage. The red gown was so long it dragged against the stone floor, and beneath it she wore a veil underdress whose sleeves extended past the red fabric above. The cut flowed elegantly, the sleeves wide and airy. Golden embroideries highlighted the curve of her hips.
Ysaria had insisted on braiding her hair simply, regardless of palace conventions. However, Ana had still managed to slip a thin crown of golden vines atop her head, the only jewel she had agreed to wear. Her noble shoes with delicate embroidery were utterly useless. She would have preferred her boots, where she could have hidden a knife to protect herself. Instead, she had concealed the wooden-handled razor between her breasts. She rushed down the eastern stairs of the castle as quickly as she could, ignoring Ana’s muffled footsteps following behind her. It was the first time she had ever had a servant, and she already found the experience irritating. She needed to speak to the king, confront him, and if the opportunity presented itself, bleed him dry.
Ana shouted directions at her, telling her to go left or right while Ysaria ran holding the layers of her gown. It was terribly improper, especially since it exposed her bare legs to anyone looking. The maids, guards, and servants all stared in shock as she raced toward the king’s gardens. Normally people rode there on horseback, but Ysaria did not have time to think about such things. She kept running without pause. Even when her breath burned and her legs threatened to give out, she continued running.
There was a large green training field there, lined with distant targets. He had trained there every day since childhood, whether in wrestling, swordsmanship, or dagger throwing. Ysaria spotted him from behind. There were no guards in sight. The sky was blue, the sun blazing overhead. The courtyard was protected by towering trees. The castle grounds stretched endlessly behind massive walls as high as mountains visible from afar. She watched him practice his throws within that vast green expanse.
Tall and broad, dressed in black trousers, a princely blue vest embroidered with gold, and a white cotton shirt beneath, his agile hands covered in black gloves. Knives and daggers hung everywhere around him, attached to his belt, strapped to one thigh, holstered across his chest. The king wore no crown. A blue-and-white tent in the colors of the Kingdom of Java shielded him from the sunlight. Two tables covered in weapons stood on either side of him, and behind him rested a throne large and lavish enough to make it obvious it belonged to him. His targets varied from straw butts and heraldic blazons to rotating knight quintains and archery targets painted with red circles. His horse ate apples behind the tent. There was no one else nearby.
Perfect for what she intended to do.
Ysaria’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she caught her breath. She walked toward the king’s tent now, not far from him anymore. Dex was not pleased to see her this soon. In fact, he had not intended to see her before the wedding. Those had been the instructions he gave Ana, but apparently Ysaria was far too stubborn to obey anyone, and that did not surprise him in the slightest. He leaned against one of the weapon tables beneath the tent and waited for her to approach.
He would never admit to anyone how beautiful he found her in the gown he had bought specifically for her. He would never confess how badly he dreamed of making her his wife. So he simply waited, spinning a knife lazily in his hand.
The wind brushed against her braid, soft curls escaping her hairstyle, and the sight of her legs beneath the moving fabric made him want to lick his lower lip.
“King Benjamin!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, making him roll his eyes. The grass beneath the tent was covered by a large carpet. She stepped onto it and headed straight for the weapon table facing him. “I came to demand that you return my freedom.”
A quick glance over every weapon at her disposal, and she gasped when she found her bow alongside her quiver full of arrows. She picked it up carefully, her heart pounding in her ears. Tears nearly filled her eyes. Her father had carved her name into the wood, and she brushed her fingers over it emotionally.
“I will grant you no freedom, Ari.” He drove the blade of his knife into the wooden table. Ysaria blinked before frowning as she turned toward him.
“I am not asking for your permission.”
“Perfect. Because I have no desire to give it.”
Ysaria nodded slowly, her hand trembling as she pulled an arrow from the quiver beside the table.
“Kiiiiiiiih.”
A falcon circled above them, its cry sharp and harsh. The sound was meant for Dex. His war bird sensed danger, the pure hatred radiating from Ysaria. He whistled softly to send it away. He would handle this problem himself. Truthfully, he did not mind. He was curious to see what she would do to avenge herself, although watching her nock an arrow onto the bow gave him a fairly good idea already.
“I remember the first time we met.” She pivoted with the bow, taking position sideways with her legs slightly apart. “Dex of Java.”
“Dex is enough.”
“I healed your wound. This scar on your face… You could have died that day. And this is how you repay me? By turning my life into a nightmare?”
“This has nothing to do with you.” He crossed his arms.
“It has everything to do with me! It is my father you killed- my village you are stripping bare, my identity you wish to erase.” She pulled the bowstring taut, the arrow aimed directly at him. This time, he wore no armor. If she released the arrow and hit him, death would be certain.
“I am launching a new war. A king is useless without a queen.” He answered coldly, lips twisted into a mocking smile.
“I refuse to surrender.”
“What a pity.” He grabbed a dagger from his belt. “I wonder if you would still be so brave if I cut your fingers off. You do not need them to bear heirs.”
Ysaria exhaled sharply at the same moment her fingers released the arrow. The steel tip sliced through the air between them. His reaction was just as fast as the shot itself. Dex deflected the arrow with his dagger, sending it flying into the base of his wooden throne.
“Still grieving your father?” She reached for another arrow, but he was faster. He snatched it from her hands and snapped it in two before her stunned eyes. “His death was strategic.” He stepped closer until he stood directly before her. She lowered the bow and reached behind herself for a dagger. “My army will become the strongest with the Blacksteel from Varelune’s mines… And I will become the strongest with you.”
Ysaria lowered her gaze before suddenly attacking him with the dagger the moment she looked back up. Dex caught her wrist before the blade could touch his chest. She had aimed directly for his heart, and he chuckled softly at that. He grabbed her other wrist as well, the strength of his grip forcing her to drop both weapons. She did not flinch. She stared him directly in the eyes in complete defiance of his authority.
“We could rule the Seven Kingdoms and never be challenged. You are a warrior like me. My queen shall slaughter my enemies and ride dragons beside me. My queen shall carry my children and still fight with a swollen belly. My queen shall love me and never leave me.”
“Many women in this kingdom dream of marrying you. I am not one of them. I am not the one.”
“Why?” He yanked her wrist to pull her closer. “I can give you everything you could ever desire.”
“You are the worst thing in this world, and my life would be happier if I had never crossed paths with you. Leave my village in peace and we will provide for your army.”
“Wait…” He leaned closer to her face, and she recoiled with disgust. “You think the villagers are waiting for you? You have no home other than my castle.”
His eyes dropped to her lips. They looked so soft he could not resist anymore. He crushed his mouth against hers, and she froze instantly. Her fists clenched while her body started trembling. He opened his eyes during the kiss and saw how disturbed she looked. Her cheeks burned hot, her eyes wide open in shock. The second kiss was softer. He tilted his head and groaned quietly when she accidentally gave him more access. It was not intentional. She simply felt as though she had forgotten how to breathe. He smelled like wood and sweat, not the overpowering kind other men carried, but something subtler, almost enchanting. He loosened his hold on her wrists, his hands sliding to her hips and lower back while he kissed her tenderly. Her mind could not understand what he was doing, and she did not want to try.
Suddenly, she broke the kiss. He frowned, and for once, she was faster than him.
She slammed her forehead into his nose hard enough to send him stumbling backward, then grabbed a sword from a nearby bucket filled with them and pointed it directly at Dex.
“I am Ysaria of Varelune. If you ever touch me again, I will be the one cutting your fingers off.”
“You are pathetic. Naive. Cradled by illusions.” He spat while holding his bleeding nose. “You are mine to take. It is time you face reality. This is my kingdom, and I am your king.”
He licked the blood from his lips and walked toward her with disgust in his eyes. The tip of her sword pressed against his chest. He struck the blade hard enough to throw her balance off, though she quickly steadied herself again.
“What if I told you Alaric promised me your hand years before all this chaos?”
“I would not believe a single word.”
“After you helped me, I asked my father to cover you in gold, and he saw an opportunity to forge an alliance. Varelune’s chief gave his word that his daughter would become my bride. And ten years later, he revoked that promise when I came to claim what belonged to me.”
“It matters less than what my father had to do to protect Varelune. You forced him just as you tried to force me.”
“Because it is my birthright. His soul became the thousandth etched into my daggers.”
Ysaria lunged forward, trying to drive her sword into Dex’s chest, but he caught the blade with his gloved hand and ripped the weapon from her grasp with terrifying ease. The king was known for being deadly in battle, strong and precise, but she had not expected him to feel so impossible to move against.
She cried out when he grabbed her jaw in his hand. The black leather pressed against her skin, the scent filling her senses. Somewhere above them, the falcon screeched again across the sky. Dex forced her backward against the weapon table, her backside striking the wood before he lifted her onto it as though she weighed nothing at all. She struggled violently to break free, but his grip on her jaw only tightened until her teeth ground together painfully.
“I- I would rather end my own life than tie my bloodline to yours.”
“What is so terrible about me?!” he growled deeply.
In response, Ysaria spat just above his lips. He wiped the spit away with his fingers before licking them while staring at her.
“I could claim your body right now, and no one would stop me.” He dragged her face toward his and kissed her again, this one fueled entirely by rage. She was furious too, because the next thing she did was bite his tongue.
“You- You-”
The back of her head slammed against the table. Daggers and axes rattled violently from the impact.
“It would be better if I married you first.” His breathing was uneven now. “And I am royalty. Something worth considering, truly, Ari.”
Dex lifted the train of her red gown and tore apart the white veils beneath while keeping her pressed against the table. She fought him with all her strength, scratching and kicking at his legs, but nothing worked. Every time she managed to lift herself from the table, he slammed her body back down. He shredded her undergarments into torn pieces of fabric to leave her naked beneath the gown while keeping a firm grip around her throat. She whimpered at the sound of her dress ripping apart.
“Let me see your tears. I might lick them.”
“I swear upon my father’s grave I will take your head!”
“That is a rather presumptuous promise to make.” He pulled the glove from his left hand with his teeth before sliding that hand between her bare thighs. “Surrender to me.”
She grabbed another dagger and aimed for his arm, but he caught her wrist before slamming it against the table beside her head.
“I need a queen! Rise from your bloody ashes, Ysaria! Surrender to me.”
“Never.” She spat the word venomously.
Dex’s eyes turned cold. He took the dagger she had tried to stab him with and pressed it beneath her throat. His other hand disappeared between them, and panic immediately flooded her face.
“No, no- get off me!”
“Surrender!” he roared.
“No! You bastard!”
He hated that insult. Hated hearing it leave Ari’s mouth. He bucked his hips forward harshly, and his cock forced through Ysaria’s virginity all at once until he could go no deeper. He left no space between them, filling her in one brutal motion. Then he stopped moving completely. Her scream sent birds flying out of the distant trees. Her scream shook the stone walls of the castle. Her scream made Dex’s heart pound with sudden worry. Her lower lip trembled as she stared at the ceiling of the tent, tears rolling down her cheeks despite all her efforts not to cry. He looked down between them, where their bodies had joined together in an act of violence he himself had caused.
Her blood stained the short hair at the base of him. His mind went blank. A groan escaped him when he finally started moving again, pulling back before thrusting deeply into her once more. She was so tight he could not even imagine how much pain she must have been in without any preparation.
This was not how he had imagined their first time. They were supposed to be married, inside their royal chambers, with the fireplace crackling softly beside them. Not out here in the open. Not without making her wet first. He had not even been certain she was a virgin. She was so fierce he had thought she might have secretly slipped away with some village boy behind her father’s back. But she was. And her cries made him feel like complete shit.
It was not pleasurable the way he thought it would be. Not when she looked so distressed, so hurt she could barely hold back her sobs. Dex hated that. Truly hated it.
Ysaria felt relief wash over her the moment the weight inside her disappeared. She slowly sat up on the table with a painful hiss. Her head spun and her vision blurred. Dex returned with a clean cloth soaked in water and pressed it gently between her legs against her swollen folds. She gasped at the sensation, her vision slowly clearing again.
He held her carefully now, one hand cradling her cheek. Her face looked pale, disoriented.
“Ari?”
“Do not touch me. Never touch me again.”
“You called me a bastard…”
“You are worse than that. Much worse.”
“I will take you back to the castle. Ana will care for you.”
“I want to go home.” She sobbed, and he sighed quietly. He searched for her eyes and gave a sad smile when their gazes finally met.
Summary: Dex finds her in a crowded club, beautiful and shining like a star. Even when she disappears, he doesn’t let go. He follows every trace she leaves behind, determined to have her, whether she wants it or not.
Characters: Benjamin Poindexter "Dex" x Ballerina Original Female Character
Warnings: Stalking, manipulation, violence, blood, trauma, bordeline personality disorder, heavy smut, dominant Dex, dubious consent, possessive behavior, dark romance, knife play, light daddy kink, forced marriage
Author: Blackcat-9696 / Do not copy, publish, translate my work or claim it as your own.
Author note: Hey, here’s your weekly update. This fic won the poll for the next update, so here we are. Enjoy this fluffy and smutty chapter...🐈⬛
Tag list (open) : @muffinbrown @avidreader73 @boydholbrooksblog
MASTERLIST
Chapter 13: Sniper. Wifey
“We met at a club,” Dex casually answered. It had taken him three days to finally talk about how they met, and he did it calmly while spinning a coin between the fingers of one hand.
His hair was still slightly damp. He had just gotten out of the shower and was lounging on the bed in nothing but black boxers. One leg bent, the other stretched flat against the mattress, he had pushed the sheets aside so he wouldn’t get too hot. He leaned against the padded headboard, the pillows neatly arranged on the bench at the foot of the bed.
The whole villa carried shades of beige and white. A modern house with a very desert-inspired atmosphere, which contrasted with the beautiful view from inside the pool area. Stella kept walking back and forth between the bathroom and the bedroom with her toothbrush in her mouth. Her long curly hair was running wild over her shoulders, and her white cotton nightie shorts set with lace details along the edges complimented her skin tone perfectly.
They both stole glances at each other filled with desire from time to time, and she tried not to give in and stare at him like some fangirl. But it was difficult, difficult to ignore the sexy, dark side Dex displayed so shamelessly. The slow, measured way he weighed every word while methodically turning the coin between his fingers fascinated her, and every time he turned his head toward her, she kept brushing her teeth while quickly looking away. She had been doing it for over ten minutes while listening to him talk. Dex had counted every second.
“You were dancing like there was no tomorrow,” he added before focusing back on his little trick. Stella pulled the toothbrush out of her mouth, toothpaste foam still on her lips. She scratched her head and sighed. The more he talked about that night, the more confused she became.
“Why did you choose me?” She took a deep breath before exhaling, a hand resting on her flat stomach. She couldn’t ignore the way his abs, a solid six-pack, flexed whenever he spoke.
“When I saw you, my vision turned blue.”
“Okay? So?”
“It happens when I target someone.”
“What? You wanted to kill me?”
“Part of me, yes.” He frowned, and Stella slowly slipped her toothbrush back into her mouth, thoughtful. “It’s not what you think it is.”
“I really want to understand, Dex.” She walked back into the bathroom and spit into the sink before looking at her reflection in the mirror.
She was literally glowing. The past few days had been filled with rest and cuddles, and she couldn’t have dreamed of anything better. Her skin was beautiful, and she looked healthier than before she got here. She tried not to think too much about Dex and his strange way of seeing things, but it was like he constantly balanced between violence and softness. Even if she wasn’t afraid of him, she still thought he was a little disturbed. As she rinsed her mouth, she heard his voice echo through the room.
“Wait! I can’t hear you well like this. Just a minute.” Stella hurried to dry herself off, grabbed the tube of muscle cream, and rushed out of the bathroom. Dex slowly looked her up and down with his cold expression while the coin slid between his fingers. “What did you say?”
“You were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.” Her lips parted slightly. “I already knew I’d follow you, and if you rejected me… possibly kill you.”
“You’re joking, right?” she asked skeptically, and Dex’s lips stretched into a mischievous smile before he answered like a robot.
“Sure.” He tilted his head to the side. “What are you doing all the way over there? C’mere, I’m gonna put this cream on you.”
“No! Uh- no, I’ll do it myself.”
She walked toward the bench, and Dex watched the sway of her ass as she moved. One foot resting on the bench, she flipped her curly hair to the side and started applying the cream, massaging carefully the way she had seen him do it. She still got cramps sometimes, and it helped. Now she was fully within his line of sight, and he stared at her intensely with his brows slightly furrowed. She adjusted the straps of her nightie that kept slipping down. The fabric hung loosely over her chest, and every time she leaned forward, Dex could see the outline of her nipples despite her attempts to protect her modesty.
“I don’t know…”
“Speak your mind.”
“You sound like a toxic man.”
“Yeah, I’m working on it.”
Stella rubbed her thigh before lowering her leg. Then she gathered her hair to tie it up, but her hair tie was no longer around her wrist. Dex lifted his own hand to show her he had it, but he made no move to give it back. Honestly, it felt like he was testing her, like it was bait meant to lure her into his trap and get her back into bed with him. And then she remembered the feeling of his hands on her, the way his lips moved against her neck that morning, and how effortlessly he could pull moans out of her. No. Stella needed to keep a clear head. At least for now. She grabbed the tube and headed back toward the bathroom.
“You were waving at me at the club.”
“I didn’t even know you yet. Why would I do that?”
“You were waving at me,” he insisted.
“So I spilled my drink on a guy and you broke his jaw and I just… agreed to get into your car?”
“We talked briefly. Your inability to see me as a danger baffled me. It was refreshing.”
She was drawn to him. Step by step, she found herself getting closer to the bed.
“I was a predator circling the light.” Then she stopped in her tracks, blinking away the desire to be next to him. “A black hole drawn to starlight. And then you came with me willingly, without fear. I’ve had a soft spot for you since day one.”
“That doesn’t sound like me. I’d choose safety… I don’t understand why I got into your car.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other with her hands behind her back. The patterns on the carpet distracted her from the complexity of her feelings for Dex. Between her past choices and her current ones, she felt like there was a gap.
“Nobody can explain why a spark becomes a star in the darkness. Shining so bright we can see it from billions of kilometers away.” She nodded, eyes lowered to her feet. “Things were getting more serious between us. I like our love story.” He smiled to himself. “You’re my starlight.”
Stella felt her throat tighten. She shook her head while holding her neck, then started pacing around the bedroom without knowing what to do with herself. Every time he made declarations like that, she wanted to kiss him and wrap her arms around him. It was stronger than her, and completely disorienting.
“But you’re a psycho killer!” she said like she was trying to convince herself.
“Don’t judge the book by its cover.”
“Not when the cover looks like a psycho killer.” She laughed, and he smiled. “Funny thing is, I don’t even know where that came from.”
He couldn’t tell her about her best friend Freya yet or he would have to tell her the whole story of her death. She was the one who had called him a psycho killer and tried to stop Stella from getting into Dex’s car that night. And suddenly, he understood just how sincere, real, and rare their friendship had been. The story was too sad to talk about so soon, and the doctor had said to take it easy. The risk was that her brain had blocked out her memories because of the pain, which would make them harder to recover. At least Stella was distracted by other things instead of questioning where that phrase had come from.
Suddenly, a massive television descended from the ceiling. Stella jumped at the sound and stepped back in shock.
“Oh my God, what is that?”
“What does it look like, Stella?”
“You want to watch TV in the bedroom?”
“Do you have something against it?”
“No, it just feels like old married couple stuff.”
Stella let out an annoyed sigh and kept circling around the bed with a pout on her face.
“Starlight?”
“Yes?” she said, her eyes lighting up as she stepped a little closer to the bed while still keeping a safe distance.
“Come to bed.” A hard command she tried to dismiss.
“Are we supposed to sleep together again?”
Yesterday she had a powerful orgasm in her sleep, and she suspected Dex was behind it. Her panties were gone when she woke up, and the wetness had felt way too suspicious. She thought it might’ve been his saliva or something. The problem was that she found it exciting. Anybody else would’ve been outraged, but Stella’s body was a guitar Dex knew exactly how to play, and who could blame her for wanting more mind-blowing orgasms? Apparently her mind didn’t like the idea while her body was desperate for his touch.
“Every damn night, yeah.”
“Oh- um-” She bit down on her lower lip.
“Look, I popped that cherry a long time ago, so bring your cute little ass next to me.”
“Don’t say it like that. As if I’m just some girl you had sex with.”
“I won’t kill a hundred people for some girl. And you’re the one who asked to get into my car and come to my place. Practically begging me to kiss you when we started.”
“Do you always say unpleasant things?”
“Yeah.” He raised a brow when she crossed her arms, and she burst out laughing.
“You’re a maniac.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Really? I still have bruises here.” She lifted her nightie to show him, and then suddenly realized what she was doing. Dex had completely made her forget what they were talking about a second ago with just one compliment. “Gosh.”
“You coming?”
“No.” She brushed her hair off her shoulders in an almost theatrical way.
“Kitten, I don’t like repeating myself.” He set the coin and the remote down on the nightstand before turning toward her, elbow resting on his knee while his other leg stayed stretched out across the bed. “Don’t play with me.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess you do wanna play.”
Voices echoed from the TV, dim light shining across Dex’s face while he stared at Stella. His gaze traveled from her feet shifting against the carpet, up her slim legs, her hips slightly wide for her frame, her tiny waist, and her small chest. He liked what he saw, and the suggestive way he licked his lower lip made it obvious he had very unholy thoughts running through his mind. The silence he created only made her more restless, and the longer he stared at her, the more exposed she felt.
“Okay, fine.” She hurried toward the bed, lifted the sheets, and sat down on her side all the way at the edge. “Can we at least watch a romcom?”
“I’d consider it if you didn’t act like a fucking brat,” he answered with a frown before grabbing the remote to switch channels on the giant screen in front of the bed. He picked one, set the remote back on the table, then rested a hand behind his head while watching the images flicker across the screen.
“Is that a serial killer documentary?” A small smile crossed his lips. “Hell no, give me the remote. I’m not having nightmares tonight.”
“Beg.” Dex grabbed the remote again and stretched his arm away from her.
“Why do I have to beg for everything?” She practically jumped on him trying to snatch it away, making him laugh. “Dex!? Give it to me!” She squirmed over him until she ended up straddling his lap. She reached for his hand as he held it higher above her, and in the process her chest brushed against his face. “Stop! Give it to me.” And before she could stop him, he threw the remote all the way across the room toward the door. Stella stared at him in disbelief before letting herself sit on top of him with an exasperated sigh.
“Why would you do… that?” She swallowed hard on the last word. The trap was slowly closing around her. Dex caressed her thighs, the contact of his skin against hers sending electricity through her body.
“I don’t like losing.”
“You were scared because I’m stronger than you, right?” she joked, trying not to think about how badly his lips attracted her.
“The strongest woman alive, yeah,” he answered in a low, deep voice.
She rested her hands on his chest, hard and lightly covered in hair. She felt his hands slide over her nightie, one stopping at her waist while the other traced a slow path from her stomach up to the valley between her breasts. Stella arched her back slightly, her eyelids fluttering, her breath catching every time his hand moved higher.
“Even if you try your hardest not to fall, you’re already ten toes deep in this. We’re meant to be together. When are you gonna understand that?”
His hand settled against the side of her neck, and she held onto his wrist while he studied every reaction on her face.
“I won’t kiss you unless you come for it. But I can do something else.”
His fingers traced along her shoulder down to the strap of her nightie, and he slowly pulled it down while looking straight into her eyes. He could see how blown her pupils were. How her breathing had started to quicken. The fabric barely covered the center of her breast, right over her nipple, and he lowered it completely until it was fully exposed.
Dex let the moment linger, waiting to see if she would push him away or react to him undressing her. But she did nothing. Said nothing. Dex’s smile widened, revealing perfectly straight white teeth. His hand wrapped around the soft weight of her breast, kneading her flesh until she let out a silent moan. He spread his legs, bent them slightly, then curved his back forward to take her nipple into his mouth. Stella’s head fell back instantly, a pleasant warmth flooding through her body. The movements of Dex’s tongue sent waves of pleasure through her. His large hands held her hips while he ate at her breast. Stella’s fingers brushed against the back of his head, slowly running through his hair. What he was doing put her in complete ecstasy, but she didn’t want to rush things.
“Wait, Dex…”
“I’m a good guy. Relax.” His palms molded her ass cheeks and spread them apart slightly. “You like that, don’t you?” It should’ve been illegal how wet he could make her. “Take this off.”
Stella grabbed the bottom of her nightie and pulled it over her body. Her hair cascaded down her bare back while he kept exploring her skin. Dex went back to licking her boobs, her nipples hard as stone beneath his wet attention. She hissed softly when she felt his teeth press against her skin. Her body jerked against him, and it only made everything feel even better. So she started rocking her hips back and forth. Her folds pressed against something long and solid underneath his boxers.
“Horny?” He blew against her nipple before flattening his tongue over it.
Dex didn’t like her silence, her restraint. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked it backward before straightening up. Stella’s eyes drifted toward the ceiling, her head tilted back so far from the pull that he started leaving small kisses along the tip of her chin. She panted softly. It pulled, it hurt a little, but she didn’t complain.
“Find your voice again.”
“Yes, I’m horny.”
“Are you gonna come just from rubbing yourself on me? Hm, Starlight? Are you that needy?”
“I’m sorry. It’s stupid.”
“Don’t stop halfway through it.” He rolled his hips beneath her, and her eyes rolled shut instantly. He released her hair, and she rocked herself against him again while he held onto her. “Let’s see how long it takes for you to come like that.”
“Can I kiss you?” she asked breathlessly, and he smirked.
“Go for it.”
Stella cupped his cheeks. The tips of their noses brushed together. She closed her eyes and leaned into him. The second their lips touched, they both felt weightless. As if their bodies had been washed over by some kind of divine bliss. Dex deepened the kiss, his hands sliding across her bare back beneath her curls before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly against him.
It was deeper than pleasure. Together they felt complete, like two halves of the same piece finally fitting together. When she broke the kiss to breathe, Dex forced her neck back toward him again. He started pinching her nipple at the same time, swallowing every moan she made. It took several minutes of intense kissing before they finally stopped. Dex was practically drooling with desire just from watching her roll her hips against him. It felt good for both of them even through his boxers and her panties. The friction alone was enough to make them choke on their moans.
“Yeah, just like that. Fuck.” He held the side of her face, licking over her lips from time to time. “C’mon, kitten. Give me everything you got. Let me see you come.”
“It’s not enough…” She frowned, overwhelmed, but something was still missing.
“What are you into?”
“Dirty talk. Please, please, please.”
“If you behave.”
“I’m behaving.” She did her best to press her clit harder against his erection, and she could feel how soaked her panties had become. “I’m behaving really hard- mmh, Dex!”
“So you’re a good girl?”
“Yes!” She moaned before he kissed her.
“You like rubbing on my dick?”
“Yes.”
“Who’s the good girl?”
“Me.”
“Say it louder, Starlight.” He rolled his hips together with hers.
“Me!” she moaned openly.
“You want daddy to fuck you deep? Wanna be full of me?”
Her mouth fell open as her orgasm climbed higher and higher.
“I’m gonna handcuff the fuck out of you and fuck you all night, Stella. You want that?” She nodded vigorously with her eyes closed. “Make my cum run wild inside you, fuck your pussy until you squirt.”
That was the final straw before she completely fell apart, her legs trembling violently. Dex held her against him while the waves of pleasure slowly softened inside her body. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried in the crook of it. His embrace soothed her, and he even stroked her hair gently. The embrace lasted for minutes before they finally spoke.
“You did good.”
“I can’t believe I actually came.”
She pulled back slightly to look at him, her delicate fingers tracing the shape of his scar while she got lost in his dark brown eyes. Then she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the scar. It was soft, simple, and filled with emotion. When their eyes met again, she noticed his looked glassy.
“Dex? Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he whispered. “It’s um- I’m not used to being loved.”
Just as she was about to kiss him again, he suddenly pushed himself backward on the bed and flipped her onto her back. Stella stared at him wide-eyed as he hovered above her between her spread legs. Then the reality of the position hit her. She tried pushing him away, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the mattress. He looked down at her, then at the obvious bulge pressing hard against his boxers.
“What’s that… thing?”
“I’m dying to lick your butthole right now.”
“Excuse me, what?” He yanked her panties down her legs roughly enough for her to let out a startled protest. “Dex!? Slowly!” He shut her up with a kiss. She felt him moving between her thighs, pulling off his boxers, and before she knew it, his cock was pressing against her entrance. “No wait, not so soon. Please.” Her hands were free again, patting his shoulder several times.
“I missed you so much I thought about taking meds again.”
“Can we… take it slow? No sex before I remember my first time?”
“You were just grinding yourself on me.”
“I know but- Dex, please. Listen to me.”
“Mmm.” He nibbled at her breasts.
“And you’re tired too.”
“Even with my arms and legs in casts, I’d still find a way to fuck you.”
“I’m begging you. Okay- wait a little longer. From my perspective, we just met, and… there’s your feelings and mine. I do kinda like you, but I don’t want everything to revolve around sex since this… relationship is serious.”
He sat back on his knees, yanked her body closer to him, and spread her wet pussy lips apart while slowly stroking himself between them. Stella grabbed the sheets tightly in her fists. What he was doing was awakening something inside her, again.
“Keep talking. I’m listening.”
“I don’t want a situationship.”
“And what the fuck is even that?”
“Situationship. You know? When it’s strictly sexual. No feelings involved.”
“I’m the sniper. You’re wifey. A whole lotta feelings involved.” He rubbed the tip of his cock against her entrance, making it slide over her clit.
“You’re a sniper?” she moaned, and he grunted softly. He stroked himself faster while grabbing her tit. She spread her legs wider for him.
“I thought that was obvious.” He was close already. “I was a sniper in FBI SWAT. I used lethal force for breakfast." Faster. "Damn, Stella, you’re so wet for me.” He lowered himself over her again, still stroking himself between her thighs, and she felt the tip slip slightly inside before he came all over her folds.
His kisses turned sloppy against her neck. She felt a little crushed beneath his weight but didn’t want to disturb him while he came down from his orgasm. A secret smile crossed her lips. They had both climaxed without really doing it, and the thought warmed her heart. She really liked that he respected her choice. They stayed like that in silence for a while before she thought of something.”
“Is wifey another nickname?”
“You asked for more.”
“No, I didn’t. I prefer Starlight, it’s really… loving. Like you said, I’m a star to follow.”
“Everywhere on Earth.” He fell silent for a moment, thinking it over.
“I need to go clean myself up.”
“Wait here.”
Dex got up immediately. He was so heavy she felt like she could finally breathe normally again. He walked into the bathroom while Stella stayed sprawled across the bed like a starfish, cum spread across her pubic area. The situation was honestly ridiculous, and she quietly laughed at herself. She couldn’t move without making a mess on the sheets, so she waited for him to come back. He returned with a damp towel, cleaned her gently, then disappeared into the bathroom again.
Stella picked up her nightie from the floor and slipped it back on before crawling under the blankets. The soft sound of the TV finally seemed understandable now that they weren’t tangled all over each other anymore. Once he finished, he turned off every light and the television before lying down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders while she rested against him.
“I understand.” His voice rose softly through the blue darkness. “You’re right. I can get intense during sex. It’s better if you really want it. At least we can still play around like we did.”
“You’re not mad?”
“If you let me explore, I’m fine with it.”
“I do…”
“We both could use a good night’s sleep.” He inhaled the scent of her hair. He loved it.
“I think… you’re nice.” She smiled against his skin. “Sometimes. After all, you’re my husband.”
“I successfully brainwashed you,” he joked, and she burst out laughing. “Now try to rest. I’ll pamper you.”
“I’m not a baby.”
“Oh yeah, you’re a big baby.” He stroked her arm against him.
“You won't sleep?”
“Not for a while. It’s aftercare time. Close your eyes and relax.”
“Bonne nuit, Dex.” 'Goodnight, Dex.'
“Mmh, sexy. Goodnight to you too.”
Dex and Stella closed their eyes at the same time with the exact same smile on their lips. And very quickly, the couple fell into a deep sleep in each other’s arms beneath the dancing blue light from the pool inside the villa.
Summary: Dex finds her in a crowded club, beautiful and shining like a star. Even when she disappears, he doesn’t let go. He follows every trace she leaves behind, determined to have her, whether she wants it or not.
Characters: Benjamin Poindexter "Dex" x Ballerina Original Female Character
Chapter 1: A Blue Dance
Chapter 2: A One Night Stand
Chapter 3: Mania State
Chapter 4: A Swan in Bloodlight
Chapter 5: Catching Starlight
Chapter 6: A Beautiful Trap
Chapter 7: A Church for Sinners
Chapter 8: Blade on My Tongue
Chapter 9: Devour Me Whole
Chapter 10: The Ghost of You
Chapter 11: Hades and Persephone
Chapter 12: Domestic Creature
Chapter 13: Sniper. Wifey
⛔Do not copy my work, translate or use AI with it and claim it as your own.⛔
Summary: A routine night at Shuri’s lab in New York turns unexpectedly intense when you and Bucky Barnes are forced to face danger together while something inside him begins to awaken, pulling him closer to the White Wolf he’s meant to become.
Characters: Dark Bucky Barnes x Shy Fem!Reader wearing glasses
Chapter 1: White Wolf Rising
Chapter 2: Marked by the Beast
Chapter 3: Wolf-Trapped
Chapter 4: Shaky Ground
Chapter 5: Under His Skin
Chapter 6: One Wrong Move
Chapter 7: When the Moon Calls
Chapter 8: Project Captain Hydra
⛔Do not copy my work, translate or use AI with it and claim it as your own.⛔
Summary : After the events of the movie, Bob encounters a mysterious woman trapped in a tank of water. As he frees her, he uncovers a new part of himself: the protector.
Characters: Bob Reynolds/ Dark Sentry/The Void x Original Mixed Black female character
Chapter 1: Echoes of You
Chapter 2: Forbidden Memory
Chapter 3: Hope in the Shadows
Chapter 4: A War Between Suns
Chapter 5: For The First Time
Chapter 6: Wounded Skies
Chapter 7: Unbroken Bonds
Chapter 8: Conceived in Power
Chapter 9: Fall for Me
Chapter 10: Silent Heartbeat, Loud Fears
Chapter 11: The Unseen Struggle
Author notes: To be conitnued.
⛔Do not copy, publish, translate, run thought AI my work or steal ideas from it.⛔
Summary: Birdie, a young black woman living alone, finds her quiet life upended when a mysterious white stranger awakens desire and danger she never expected.
Characters: Remmick x Original Black Female Character
Chapter 1: Whispers in the Dark
Chapter 2: Sweet as Sin
Chapter 3: Haunted Memories
Chapter 4: Almost Love, Almost Gone
Chapter 5: A Nest Built on Fire
Chapter 6: The Ribbon’s Secret
Chapter 7: The Celtic Bride
Chapter 8: The Edge of Night
Chapter 9: Beneath the Storm
Chapter 10: The Place Where I Belong
Chapter 11: Cravings
Chapter 12: Fading Light
Chapter 13: Born Again in Blood
Chapter 14: Death in Their Veins
Chapter 15: Held by the Devil, Loved by You
Chapter 16: The Price of Blood
Chapter 17: The Sugar Daddy’s Promise
Chapter 18: Under the Same Sky
Chapter 19: The Demon Of The West
Chapter 20: Eyes Everywhere
Chapter 21: The Wolves’ Pact
Chapter 22: Scarlet Covenant
Chapter 23: When the Baby Blues Hit
⛔Do not copy my work, translate or use AI with it and claim it as your own.⛔
Summary: The Dagger King covets both the Blacksteel hidden beneath Varelune and the daughter of its chief. But when the village refuses to surrender, Dex rides there himself to claim what belongs to him. Between war, dragons, and a forced marriage, Ari and the king will have to learn how to love each other for the sake of the kingdom.
Characters: Medieval fantasy AU (alternative universe) Benjamin Poindexter "Dex" x Archer Original Female Character
Warnings: violence, blood, forced marriage, death, dark romance, enemies to lovers
Author: Blackcat-9696 / Do not copy, publish, translate my work or claim it as your own.
Author note: During the day, I was thinking about my story A Star to Follow and I thought it would be nice to have Dex in armor. Then the title of this story suddenly came to my mind, and I had to write the first chapter. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but let me know in the comments if I should continue this story or not...🐈⬛
MASTERLIST
Chapter 1: The Resistance
The village of Varelune continued to resist despite every attack from the Dagger King. Everyone took part in strengthening the walls. Between the carts of fireballs on the ramparts that the women soaked with flammable oil, the archers as young as they were brave stationed beside every column, and the strong, valiant warriors working tirelessly to reinforce the massive main gate. The elderly tended the fertile fields and prepared provisions. Even the children busied themselves polishing the warriors’ weapons. Everyone was preparing for war, because the militias the king had previously sent were nothing more than pale threats of intimidation, a warning of what would soon fall upon them.
Yet the village chief refused to surrender. What the king demanded was heresy: to marry his daughter and force the village to pay a monthly tribute of supplies and lances? Yes, their blacksmiths were the finest in the kingdom, yes, his daughter was known as one of the greatest archers in the village, but for the king to want her as his bride? No. That could never happen, not while he still lived. The thousand villagers stood behind Alaric. His choice was justified, though that did not stop dissidents from existing, loyal servants of the king plotting in the shadows. People who could be bought with a few gold coins.
The kingdom of Java was prosperous, the richest and most coveted of them all, and that was thanks to its merciless king who had burned every enemy to ashes whenever they dared attack him or refuse to submit. The Dagger King loved war, everyone knew that. His handsome face was marked by a scar across his cheek, though it only made him look even more terrifying. He always wore his armor and helmet that revealed nothing but his cold, dark eyes. He was always on the front lines, whether mounted on horseback or fighting on foot.
His daggers never missed their target, and he could kill dozens of soldiers in the blink of an eye. He had no queen, no concubines, interested only in the expansion and wealth of his kingdom. The Dagger King hated being called by his real name, Dex, a cursed foreign name. He preferred Bullseye, a title reserved only for his loyal soldiers. Everyone else had to call him “my king,” even his sick mother. He came from family drama nobody truly knew the story of. The man was a destructive shadow, and no one had the right to question his orders.
So it was madness for such a small village to stand against him and his demands. But Chief Alaric refused to back down, because the Blacksteel hidden within his caves was the only metal resistant to impact, acid, and even dragonfire. Without Varelune, the kingdom of Java was nothing, and Alaric shouted those words to anyone willing to hear them in order to raise the fading morale of his people.
The night was darker and quieter than usual. The stars had abandoned the sky. Only the torches along the walls offered a faint glow across the endless deserted plains surrounding the village. Wind lashed violently against the wooden rooftops of the cottages. The Mountain of Colossi behind the village offered little protection from the harsh winds of the kingdom of Java. Vast plains were one of the region’s defining traits, and though they lacked access to the ocean, they possessed lush rivers and waterfalls instead. The king envied others for their dragons. If Alaric’s village surrendered, he would finally possess enough weapons to launch even greater strategic assaults. He needed to find a way, and the darkness of the night left enough room for shadows to creep into the hearts of its people.
It was in that silence that heavy pounding echoed against Ysaria’s door. She had grown used to sleeping flat on her back, trapped in a half-sleep to remain alert, and at the sound she sat upright stiff as a corpse. Her long braid bounced behind her as she jumped out of bed. She pulled on a brown leather jacket tied with a cord beneath a high collar to protect herself from the cold wind. Beneath her white tunic and brown trousers riddled with tiny holes, she wore only a corset and undergarments. Her heavy, slightly oversized boots slammed against the wooden floor as she rushed toward her bow and arrows. She carried nearly thirty inside her quiver, all crafted by her own hands. A small pouch of flour hung from the side of her belt, and when she opened her bedroom door, two men and three women, Alaric’s most loyal soldiers, stared at her wide-eyed.
They looked exhausted, covered in soot and coal dust. Ysaria’s expression tightened, deep furrows darkening her soft features.
“What happened?” She forced her voice to sound deeper. The wood of her bow dug into her flour-covered palm as she prepared herself to fight no matter the enemy. That was how she had been raised: a fighter, a warrior. Far from the arranged marriage that had killed her mother in childbirth.
“Alaric is nowhere to be found. The scouts spotted an army of one hundred soldiers approaching the village,” the woman replied, dressed much like Ysaria except for the sword sheathed at her waist.
“They ride with the king himself amongst their ranks.”
“Where is your father? We need orders, we need to move, do something. If the king himself has come, then he means to bring down the village.”
“And he never shows mercy.”
“We are all doomed if we do not find your father at once.”
“We do not need my father. Summon every archer and station them along the wall beside the main gate. Prepare the warriors to defend the ground below, place the elderly women and children within the shelter, and reinforce the gate with carts.” The three soldiers listened carefully, hands resting lightly upon their sharpened weapons. “Wake the blacksmiths who sleep and strengthen those already working. We shall also need the miners to lend their strength.”
“Yes, Ari.”
“Do not call me that, Elena. You know I despise that name.” She slung the bow across her shoulder.
“You still must find your father. Our lives depend upon it,” one of the soldiers added, as though everything she had just commanded meant nothing because she was a woman.
“I am the chief’s daughter, and I gave you orders. You will obey them, or remain behind with the weak.” Ysaria answered fearlessly before walking through the middle of the group, deliberately bumping shoulders against him. “See that every soul wears Blacksteel armor. It is time to show the king what Varelune is truly capable of.”
The group exchanged uneasy glances before nodding and following Ysaria as she sprinted through the stables. It was late, only hours before sunrise. They needed to prepare quickly. Bells rang throughout the village, thick smoke rose from the furnaces, and people shouted orders while running in every direction. Metal clanged through every street. Dry earth was overturned beneath hurried footsteps. The village had become an anthill, and the silence of the night vanished beneath the sounds of marching feet and war chants. Varelune was the village of resisters, of leaders. Many of the king’s greatest soldiers had once come from this place. They were strong, hardened warriors, and none of them wished to kneel before the king, especially not to be stripped of the precious archer their chief cherished so deeply.
Ysaria climbed the wooden stairs two at a time. The archers were taking their positions while every torch in the village flared to life. They could now better see the plains and the surrounding lands.
And the sight was worse than she had imagined.
There was once a time when the king traded fairly with Varelune, offering good prices for the finest goods. Then greed consumed him. More power, more wealth, more blood. They had not seen him since, but now that the king sat upon his horse in the middle of an army of one hundred men, all dressed in the same dark blue armor as Varelune’s warriors, the situation became even more frightening.
Their archers carried torches burned with a crimson glow. The king remained perfectly still, one hand holding the reins of his horse while the other rested flat against his thigh. He stood only a kilometer away from the walls. The villagers had taken too long to follow her orders. Chief Alaric was missing, and it threw everyone into confusion. If only he had given her more responsibility sooner. If only he had named her his successor. The villagers would have reacted faster. At least her archers were in position and the warriors were preparing. She only needed to buy enough time for everything to be ready in case of attack. It was impossible for the king’s entire army to truly wear Blacksteel. She desperately hoped most were cheap copies.
“My king,” Ysaria shouted loud enough for her voice to echo across the plains. “We did not expect your arrival so late in the night.”
Neither the king nor his soldiers reacted. All remained motionless. Only the rise and fall of their breathing proved they were alive. The horses neighed, their front hooves tearing through the grass-covered earth as they shifted in place.
“My father asked me to make a bargain with you. We are willing to lower the price of Blacksteel if Your Majesty allows us to keep our independence as it has always been. Java is your kingdom, but Varelune is ours. We ask for nothing more than what has been granted to us for decades.” Ysaria cast a quick glance toward the main gate, where warriors pushed three carts into position. Soon the entrance would be fully fortified, and the stone wall would withstand even the fiercest assault. A faint smile touched her lips, and the king didn’t miss it. “We are not standing against you, my king. We seek only peace.”
The king lightly kicked the flank of his black horse, which trotted forward from the line of his battalion. He passed the torch-bearing archers and stopped with a pull of the reins. His horse kept tossing its head while the king sat upon the saddle like a ruler upon his throne.
“Your words bear no weight, Ari.”
Ysaria gasped. How did he know that name? Where had he heard it? She could not remember crossing paths with the king even once, so why? She licked her lower lip. She who feared nothing now felt doubt creeping inside her. Had his followers infiltrated Varelune? Only the villagers called her that.
“How do you know…” she whispered in shock.
“I grow weary of this.” He roared the last words. “Surrender now or die before this night is done. Your choice.”
“I prefer to die with honor!”
“Do you think everyone in Varelune is willing to sacrifice their lives because your father refused to give me what rightfully belongs to me?”
“Archers!” Ysaria raised her arm before pulling her own bow from her shoulder. Every archer lining the walls released a single arrow. “Be ready!” The archers shifted into firing position, arrows drawn tightly against bowstrings, prepared to shoot.
“Ysaria?” He paused, then chuckled darkly before speaking again. “Do you want to know where your father is?”
The king lifted his hand and crooked a finger beneath his armor. A warrior on foot emerged from the ranks dragging a hooded man behind him. Bells rang three times throughout the village, signaling that the vulnerable had reached shelter and every soldier had donned their armor. The information was crucial, Ysaria knew it, yet she could not tear her eyes away from the hooded man. That red night tunic looked far too similar to her father’s. Blood soaked his feet, his arms, even the hood covering his head. Her corset suddenly felt too tight to breathe. She stepped closer to the edge of the stone wall, leaning over to see more clearly. Her heart pounded violently inside her chest and her stomach twisted at the realization of what the king had done.
“Here is a small gift for you, my future bride.”
The warrior clad in Blacksteel removed the hood, and Ysaria smothered her scream behind her hand.
“Do you like it?” the king asked with cruel amusement. It wasn’t truly a question. He already knew the answer.
“Archers! Aim!”
“Enough of this childish display.” He mocked her while his warrior dragged Alaric forward as the man stumbled weakly on his feet.
His face had been beaten so badly his own daughter barely recognized him beneath the bruises and swelling. Blood poured from countless wounds, as though blades had carved through every inch of his flesh.
“I’m your king, Ysaria.” He seized Alaric by the hair, by that white half-braid he had always cared for so dearly. The king drew a dagger from his leather baldric and pressed the blade against Alaric’s throat, the chief too broken to even keep his eyes open. “As I said. Surrender or death.”
Ysaria’s arm trembled. It had remained raised this entire time. All she needed to do was lower it and her archers would fire. But at what cost?
“Do not trouble yourself, my love. I shall be gentle the first night.”
The king’s dark laughter was the last thing she heard.
Her legs moved before she could even think. She left the archers frozen in place awaiting her command and abandoned her post. She raced down the stairs as fast as possible. Tears streaming down her cheeks vanished beneath the relentless wind sweeping through the village. Warriors in armor stepped aside to let her pass. She leapt onto the first horse she found and nocked an arrow. She ordered the guards to create an opening between the carts, and the warriors obeyed without question, pulling open the main gate. Her horse burst into a gallop the moment the opening became wide enough. Ysaria drew her bow impossibly tight, white leather creaking between her flour-covered fingers.
The plains blurred beneath her sharp gaze. The king still held her father, the dagger sliding through his flesh while she rushed toward them. Her balance was flawless. She had trained endlessly to fire from horseback without touching the reins. She was capable of it. Yet fear consumed her.
The sight of her father’s blood soaking his chief’s tunic was horrifying. Tears continued streaming down her face. The horse galloped swiftly and steadily. The wind favored her. She held her breath as long as she could. A broken sob escaped her lips when the leather of her bow creaked. Her arrow flew across the plains straight toward the king’s eye. The shot was precise, unstoppable. But the king dodged it. So smoothly that Ysaria felt numb.
He slit Chief Alaric’s throat before using the same dagger to strike the horse charging toward him. The beast shrieked and reared back in terror, throwing Ysaria forward.
She rolled violently across the ground before landing with another arrow already prepared to fire. None of the king’s soldiers reacted or attempted to protect him. Those had been his orders. Alaric’s lifeless body bled into the grass while Ysaria loosed arrow after arrow, the king evading them or deflecting them with his daggers. He dismounted his horse and walked toward her while she advanced toward him.
“Die! Die!” One arrow, one strike of steel. “Die!” She cried harder as the king suddenly began to run. “Archers! Fire!” she screamed with all her strength.
The king continued advancing, but no arrows struck him. In truth, none were fired at all. With growing horror she realized her own people had betrayed her. But this could not be the end. No. She seized the knife from her sheath and lunged toward the king. He was faster, larger. He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her onto her back with terrifying force. The impact dazed her for several seconds before she opened her eyes, screamed through bloodied lips, and drove her knife toward the king’s throat.
It was useless. Her empty quiver dug painfully into her back while he strangled her and pinned both her wrists above her head.
“Surrender or die!”
“I prefer to die.” She spat blood against his armor. His gloved hand tightened around her slender throat. Though she kicked and twisted desperately to escape, the king was an immovable force. The pressure on her throat steadily stole the air from her lungs. His eyes remained locked onto hers, dark and emotionless. Her eyelids grew heavy. She tried to speak, to say something, and the king frowned.
“Yes… Kill me and I’ll haunt you.”
“No, my love.” He lowered his face close to hers while tightening his grip. “Your place is in my bed, not in hell.”
Ysaria’s eyes closed. Her body went limp, and the king released her throat before rising to his full height above her unconscious form.
“Break down this gate and claim my Blacksteel!”
“Yes, my king,” the warriors answered in unison.
His army of one hundred surged forward, galloping toward the village while the king looked down at Ysaria lying at his feet.
“I wonder if you will ever remember our first meeting, Ari.” He turned, his horse already waiting for him. “Until that day comes, you will surrender.” He mounted his horse. “With your blood and bones.”
Summary: Dex finds her in a crowded club, beautiful and shining like a star. Even when she disappears, he doesn’t let go. He follows every trace she leaves behind, determined to have her, whether she wants it or not.
Characters: Benjamin Poindexter "Dex" x Ballerina Original Female Character
Warnings: Stalking, manipulation, violence, blood, trauma, bordeline personality disorder, heavy smut, dominant Dex, dubious consent, possessive behavior, dark romance, knife play, light daddy kink, forced marriage
Author: Blackcat-9696 / Do not copy, publish, translate my work or claim it as your own.
Author note: Here I am, single and trapped with fictional characters inside my imagination. Here’s another chapter, longer again. I honestly didn’t really know where to cut it. I hope you’ll enjoy this one...🐈⬛
Tag list (open) : @muffinbrown @avidreader73 @boydholbrooksblog
MASTERLIST
Chapter 12: Domestic Creature
Blue lights floated all around Stella, soft and tinged with orange-yellow. The sun was setting in the distance. A day was ending as she finally woke from her long sleep. It hadn’t been restful for her. She was haunted by voices and faces she didn’t recognize, as if her subconscious was trying to send her a message, giving her fragments of that month spent in New York, erased from her memory. When she opened her eyes, they felt sticky, crusty, and her first instinct was to rub her fingers over her eyelids to get rid of the grime. The more she wiped, the clearer her vision became.
The reflections from inside the pool made the ceiling look like a blue nebula. She found the sight relaxing, far from her last awakening, which had turned out traumatic in more ways than one. Her arms and legs felt like they weighed a ton, every movement required effort. She wondered how long she had been asleep. Her lips were dry. The sheets wrapped around her were soft but smelled like sweat, hers. She slowly sat up, the greasy curls of her curly hair falling over her shoulders. Her oversized black t-shirt floated over her body, making her small boobs look flat underneath. Stella checked the state of the room she had slept in, clean, quiet, with a breathtaking view over the depths of a massive pool.
Slowly, the most recent memories resurfaced: Vargas, the man who had tried to kill her, the sound of helicopters, the rooftop and Dex. The man who claimed to be her husband even though she had no memory of him. She couldn’t have been in New York that long, it felt inconceivable that he was telling the truth. And yet, she had trusted him and somewhere during the ride in his car, she had passed out because of the pain in her head. Thinking about it now, she actually felt better. No side effects or nosebleeds. Aside from the numbness in her muscles and the faint bruises on her body, there was nothing too bad. And then she noticed something beneath her ass, some kind of absorbent pads, the kind they put under patients who piss themselves. Stella felt blood rush to her cheeks. It was so embarrassing. The thing was clean but she wasn’t wearing panties, which meant her body must have relieved itself on it in her sleep and someone had cleaned her up.
“Fuck, fuck… Oh no!” She breathed out, covering her face with both hands. Why had her life become so complicated? One day, she was a ballerina full of dreams on a plane to New York and the next, she was getting attacked by thugs and rescued by a pretty hot guy in a dark blue uniform covered in blood. “Oh my god, no, no.”
She lowered her hands onto the sheets, sighed again with furrowed brows and tried hard to think about the missing events.
“I thought I heard something.”
“Aahh!” She screamed, covering her chest with the sheets. Dex was standing there next to the bed, wearing a white tank top and grey sweatpants. He looked at her with a playful smirk while she stared at him in surprise. A laugh escaped her out of embarrassment. “I didn’t see you coming in.”
“You don’t need to.” He sat near her, close enough to see every detail of her face. He looked good, too good. Those cheekbones were marvelous and his body, buff. She wondered how many times he worked out to have those incredible muscles. “Hello, Stella.”
“Hi… Dex.” She said in a low voice. He was definitely her type but she knew absolutely nothing about him. Silence settled between them as they exchanged long gazes. She delved into his dark eyes, lost in her thoughts.
“We’ve been here before, you liked the place so I brought you back here for your recovery.” She slowly nodded, still holding the sheets against herself. His gaze dropped to her hands then back to her face. “You must be thirsty.”
Dex grabbed a bottle of water from the nightstand, twisted it open with one hand and handed it to her. While she drank, she felt his eyes on her, lingering, staring. It was unsettling, she felt tingles inside her from the way he looked at her. Not that it was threatening, it was strangely admiring. As if she were a piece of art he simply couldn’t stop looking at.
“Thank you.” She set the bottle down on the coffee table herself. She licked her lower lip, a few drops of water dampening her shirt. No detail escaped him. “How long did I sleep?” Even if the silence was comfortable, it was hard to stay focused when Dex’s hand was now resting against the side of her thigh over the sheets.
“Doctor put you to sleep for a couple days so the drug’s effects could fade away.”
“So there’s nothing wrong with me?”
“No, Starlight. Not one bit.”
He didn’t have any cuts or bruises, and she knew he had fought an army to save her from Vargas. His scent was clean, with a hint of detergent. Big hands, big arms, big guy. Nice with a dark side he didn’t even try to hide. Stella suddenly felt painfully aware of herself. The dampness under her armpits was very real.
“I smell so bad… You must be disgusted.”
“You’re dirty, not disgusting. You had a fever, there was nothing you could do about that. I cleaned you everyday by the way.”
“Please, I don’t want details.”
“Alright.” He smiled, and it was nice to see. Wrinkles stretched at the corners of his eyes and his gaze lit up. “Understand, we’re married. That’s what husbands are supposed to do.”
“I really doubt we actually are.”
“Oh yeah?” He said in a playful tone that made her smile too.
Her nose caught the scent of her own body and she grimaced a little.
“I really need to take a shower.”
“You need more rest.”
“I feel better. Really. I promise. Please… Dex. Please.”
“Do you remember me?” He frowned slightly, his smile thinning.
“No, not yet. Why?”
“I guess we’re meant to have this dynamic.”
“What-”
“The bathroom’s this way.” He tilted his head toward the door in the corner then looked back at her. “You do look healthier today. I’m glad you feel better, kitten.”
“How many nicknames do you use for me?” She chuckled, letting her guard down.
“Two, but I can add more.” He moved his hand over her in a relaxing way, like he was petting a cat and honestly she just wanted to purr for him.
Even if the marriage thing was a little weird, their connection was real. She could feel it in her pounding heart, the way her breathing stayed steady whenever he was next to her.
“Can I say something?” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “You look tired.”
“I’ve had trouble sleeping since you disappeared. I didn’t know how long it would take for you to wake up again. What they injected into you was completely unknown. I was worried about you. I hoped for the best and here you are. Back to me. Where you belong.” He stood from the bed. “Now go, I’ll take off the sheets.”
“Oh sure- Oh my- yes of course. I’m so sorry.” Stella crawled toward the opposite edge, completely unaware of the view she was giving him. She felt so ashamed she practically ran to the bathroom.
Once behind the door, she pressed her ear against the wood and tried to hear what he was doing but Dex was very quiet, exactly like the killer he was known to be. Eventually she gave up and walked to the sink to brush her teeth. Everything had been prepared for her, a clean toothbrush, a towel and a stack of fresh clothes sitting on a bench that looked like it had been there for a while.
Her jaw dropped when she saw her reflection in the mirror, she had a red scar at the top of her forehead from where she had hit her head. The bruises all over her body were even more noticeable under the bathroom light and her hair looked so dirty and dry. She tried to shake off the fact Dex had seen her like this and still looked at her as if she were some kind of jewel. Why did she stutter whenever he asked her to do something? She couldn’t explain herself and she felt lame for acting this way around a stranger, a beautiful stranger.
Stella used the toilet and started brushing her teeth, instantly feeling a little better with fresh breath. She looked through the small tubes around the sink, shaving foam, face cream, a box of bandages and other little things more meant for healing than cleaning. A small disappointment crossed her mind, she would’ve loved to do a scrub. Her face was oily and she prayed Dex had bought the right shampoo for her hair. Once she dried her hands, she walked straight into a wall.
“Easy there.”
“Can you at least knock or make some kind of noise?!”
“Why would I?” He leaned down slightly toward her, his smile looked creepy but she kinda liked it. “You have nothing to fear.”
“If you say so.” She looked away then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Dex surprised her by taking her chin to turn her head back up toward him.
“I mean it when I say so.”
“Okay.” She breathed, her gaze dropping to his lips. He lowered his hand then took hers.
“I bought you a new one.” He slid an emerald ring onto her finger. The band was gold and the green stone glimmered under the light. Stella lost her breath. “Got tired of seeing your ring finger empty.”
“Dex…”
“Accept it. Quietly.” He caressed her cheek then rested his hand against the hollow of her neck. “I need to wash your clothes.”
“You can wait until I’m done.”
“No.” That was all he had to say for her to know she couldn’t argue.
“I have scars.”
“So do I.”
He stepped back, encouraging her to obey. And she slowly grabbed the hem of her shirt, lifting it while biting her lower lip. Her curls fell over her face, she quickly brushed them away then handed him the shirt, embarrassed. He tossed it onto the floor near the door, right outside where she could see a pile of stacked sheets. Perfect accuracy, anyone else would’ve missed the shot from that distance.
“Turn around.” She narrowed her eyes, skeptical. She was already naked and she didn’t understand what else he wanted. When she was about to ask why, he cut her off. “I’m about to check your body to make sure you don’t have any other aftereffects from your captivity.”
“Nothing shady?”
“Time will tell.”
“You know that’s not reassuring at all?”
“C’mon, Starlight. It’ll take two minutes tops.”
“Fine.”
Stella turned around as asked and gathered her long hair over one shoulder to free her back. Dex’s hands on her made her yelp. He felt along her shoulders, her collarbones, her back, her hips then suddenly turned her around and lifted her arms. She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling insecure.
“I’m sorry for the smell.”
“Shut up.” He said and she let out a small laugh.
His tone wasn’t harsh, more like she was stupid for feeling ashamed when he clearly didn’t give a fuck at all. His palm felt rough against her soft skin. He traced the shape of her breasts, holding them in his hands. Her nipples were hard from the cold or maybe from something else. She kept herself from saying anything and repeated in her head that Dex was doing this for her own good.
The way he pressed his fingers against her stomach, even if it felt more and more intimate, Dex did his thing while staying completely focused. It was like going through a medical evaluation. Nothing escaped him. Whether it was the color of her bruises or the stiffness of her muscles. He crouched in front of her and did the same with her legs. He touched her thighs, her calves, her feet. The wounds on her toes from ballet had almost healed. Every time he was satisfied with something, he made a low sound in his throat. Once his inspection was over, he stood back up to his full height and she tilted her head up toward him, waiting for his conclusion.
“You look in better shape than before but resting is still mandatory.”
“What happened to me?”
“I’d rather you remember by yourself.”
“Okay but at least tell me how I ended up in this situation.” Dex took a minute before answering.
“Your ballet show was a trap, they wanted to sell you to the highest bidder. All of you. They kidnapped you before I could prevent it. Your injury comes from a car accident you got into when you tried to escape.”
Stella frowned, deeply hurt to hear that. Her dream of success had been crushed to pieces and the worst part was that she never saw it coming. Even when they had asked her if she still had family, the urgency to book her plane tickets and how quickly he had managed to get her a visa for the next day. She swallowed hard, placing a hand over her mouth like she wanted to scream. It had been a scam from the start and she had been naive enough to believe she had a chance to become a famous ballerina by leaving everything behind.
Dex grabbed her shoulders, pulling her against him then tilted her chin back up again.
“Did they touch you?” He asked coldly, staring straight into her eyes.
“What? What do you mean?”
“Did they rape you?”
“No! No… I woke up in the hospital bed and then Vargas was ranting about you and some massacre you did in a church or something. You were too close so he asked one of his guards to kill me and leave no witnesses.”
“How did you manage to kill the guy?”
“He was stabbing the doctor so I- I jumped on his back and shoved the scalpel into his throat. I didn’t expect that much blood…”
“You split his carotid. Pretty good kill for a newbie.”
“I was drugged, boosted with some kind of adrenaline.”
“Still, you did good. I’m proud of you.” She nodded, tearful with regret. “Don’t think too much about it, it’s behind us now.” She leaned against him, her head resting on the top of his torso. “They’re all dead, nobody’s gonna go through this again.”
“Vargas is still out there.”
“Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of him personally.”
“Yeah okay.” She looked up. “You think he’ll come after me?”
“I’d like to see him try.”
Stella’s smile was faint but sincere. And then Dex did something that made her jump.
“Wow wow what are you doing!?”
“You’re wet.” He answered simply, not like he had just run two fingers along her slit. He looked at the consistency of her wetness, pressing his fingertips together and pulling them apart to watch the white sticky fluid stretch between them. “When was the last time you had your period?”
“Jesus! Dex!?”
“Are you itching down there?”
“No!” She practically choked out the answer and her eyes widened when he brought his fingers to his nose. Judging by the sound in his throat, he liked the smell. Stella was mortified. “Can you stop that!?”
“It’s sticky.”
“So what? Can you explain?”
“It happens before ovulation, before your period or during pregnancy.”
“I’m not pregnant.” She answered, laughing it off as if the idea made no sense at all.
“What kind of stuff do you use during your periods?”
“I’m literally naked. Do we really have to discuss this right now?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever you can buy… Pads would do.”
“I’ll get what you need before it gets bloody.”
Stella crossed her arms, feeling annoyed by all this drama and dying to feel water wash off her shame. So she brushed past him and walked quickly toward the shower cabin. Dex followed her and blocked the shower door before she could close it. He stepped inside, looking like a freaking mountain then placed one hand against the large beige tiles of the wall. He trapped her against it while her breathing sped up.
“There’s also another explanation for these discharges.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Sexual arousal.”
He pulled his head back, his face inches from hers, his lips so close to hers. She parted them, feeling her breathing quicken.
“Take your shower, Starlight. Before I fuck your memory back.”
Dex smiled triumphantly when he saw how much of an effect he had on her. He stepped out of the shower cabin, closed the glass door and walked toward the exit.
“Wipe the glass door when you’re done. I hate when there’s droplets on it.” He said loud enough for it to sound like a clear instruction she had to follow. He grabbed the pile of dirty clothes and sheets then disappeared into the bedroom.
Dex was obsessed with cleanliness and order. Every time he moved something in the kitchen, he put it back exactly where it had been before. He washed his hands regularly, kept track of cooking times and checked the temperature. Everything had to be perfect, it was a matter of control and discipline. That was why he loved cooking, there was something calming about it. A world made of good things where one of his flaws became an advantage without killing someone. Stella could see it in the fluidity of his movements, the way he handled the knife with a dexterity that would make the best chefs jealous. And so she admired him, sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen island counter. A half-empty glass of water in her hand that she absentmindedly swirled around.
The kitchen was huge, fancy like one of those pictures you saw in interior design magazines. The white marble island was beautiful and so were the natural brown waves running through the stone. The lighting was soft and the smell of food tempting. Dex kept his back turned, focused on what he was doing at the stove. It felt strangely domestic.
Sometimes, she caught sight of his wedding ring and instinctively looked at hers every single time. It felt like she was trapped inside a dream, a fantasy straight out of her imagination. Aside from the murders and kidnappings, it was endearing that he cooked for her, even kind. Not to mention the fact he had taken care of her during her recovery. How was she supposed to properly thank him when she knew nothing about him? At least their conversations weren’t awkward, they flowed naturally, easily, as if they had known each other for years in another life, another universe.
Dex’s hair had hints of dark brown with short gray streaks. His back was muscular and the shape of his spine molded against his white tank top. It was strange how clearly the bones stood out, like some kind of incredibly resistant inner skeleton. Stella thought about what he had said regarding scars and assumed that had to be one of them. His arms were slightly flushed, green veins popping through his skin. Sometimes, he rolled his hands in circular movements and his knuckles cracked. His ass was round, firm and Stella mentally scolded herself every time she imagined what he had between his legs.
Her shower hadn’t calmed her scattered thoughts, between what she had gone through and what she was living with him, it was World War III inside her head. Even with clean clothes and socks on, she couldn’t help but feel dirty. Dirty for having to kill someone to defend herself, dirty for being fooled so easily by a criminal organization. And in the middle of all that, there was Dex. She had so many questions and with how reluctant he was to overwhelm her, she had to play it smart if she wanted information about her past.
“It’s veggie soup tonight. We don’t want to upset your stomach.”
“Yum.” She smiled a little then took a sip of water.
“Come, let’s go to the couch.”
Stella followed Dex who was holding a bowl of vegetable soup with crispy croutons floating inside. Steam rose from the dish when he handed it to her and she settled comfortably between the cushions of the large couch. The TV in the middle of a massive bookshelf unit was turned off. There was no noise except for the distant hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Dex went to grab a medical kit and a stool then sat in front of her while she took large spoonfuls of her meal.
“You seem to enjoy it.” He said without looking at her.
“Yes, it’s delicious. Really.”
“Perfect.”
He took out a tube of cream, something for sore muscles and another healing ointment from the kit. Stella watched him take her leg and place it on his thigh without complaining. Even if the fact she was sitting there with her legs spread in front of him while only wearing panties underneath gave her heart palpitations. He spread the healing cream over her small closed cuts, it stung a little and she shivered. Every time she did, he tightened his grip around her ankle, a firm restraint that kept her from moving any more.
She was so mesmerized by what he was doing that soup dripped from her lips before she licked it away. Dex glanced up at her when he spread the muscle cream along her thigh. His hands slid slowly over her skin from her knee all the way up, his fingers brushing the edge of her panties before pulling back. Stella resisted the urge to close her eyes. She set the empty bowl beside her on the couch, the spoon clinking against the white porcelain as she pressed her hands into the cushions. Dex lowered her leg then did the same with the other one but this time her foot rested against his chest. She parted her lips to let out a shaky sigh when his fingers brushed against her panties again but he removed them immediately before she could react.
“It’s okay, Starlight. Just relax.”
“I’m trying…”
“How do you feel when I touch you?”
“Nothing.” She answered too fast and he smiled darkly.
“You sure about that?” His fingers brushed against her panties again but this time he pressed harder with his fingertips, right against her clit. She tried to lower her leg and he held her foot against him. “Be a good girl for me, would you?” He went back to massaging her thigh, holding her gaze. “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to do anything.” He cooed.
Somewhere deep down she knew he was doing the exact opposite of what he had just said and yet she liked it. The way he looked at her as if there was an inside story between them, something deep and dark she couldn’t fully grasp. That feeling of losing control was thrilling. She was drawn to him, like there was an invisible string impossible to cut between them. She felt tempted, something inside her yearning for memories she couldn’t remember. This need to be taken, possessed in a way only Dex could understand. She had to shift the highly sexual atmosphere that was starting to settle between them.
“Thank you… For saving my life back there.” He smiled at her then looked back down at her leg. “Was I drunk? I can’t believe I agreed to get married that fast.”
“It’s not official.” He grabbed her foot then massaged the sole of it. His thumb slid up and down while making circular motions right beneath her toes. Her eyes rolled back with satisfaction.
“What do you mean?” She breathed.
“I proposed and you said no.”
“But you said you’re my husband.”
“Because I am.” Their eyes met when she opened hers.
“You’re crazy.”
He rested her ankle on his shoulder, grabbed her hips and pulled her down the couch. Then he straightened up from the stool and leaned between her spread legs, pressing his weight against her. The hardness against her panties couldn’t possibly be a figment of her imagination.
“You liked that.” He whispered against her lips then moved her hips against him. “You still do.”
Stella’s hands moved to his shoulders. He was so close all she had to do was lift her head to kiss him but she didn’t. She simply stared at him in this strange position he had placed her in. Her legs fully spread while he held her down. She didn’t know why but she was drawn to the scar on his cheek. She traced it with her index finger thoughtfully.
“You act the same as before even if you forgot about me.” He slid one hand along her back and the other over her ass before lifting her off the couch. Her leg dropped around his waist and she held onto him while he walked. “It’s a fight scar. It reminds me who I am.” Stella’s hair bounced as she kept her hand against his cheek while he spoke, carrying her toward the bedroom. “I’m more than a broken kid, a psychopathic man and a cold killer, I’m me. Bullseye, Dex, whatever you want to call me, is now your husband. Truly. Unapologetically. Your connection goes beyond a piece of paper.”
Stella frowned, deeply moved by his words. He turned his head to see what he was doing, pulled the sheets aside and gently laid her down on the bed.
“I’m yours, Stella.” He told her while straightening up.
“I’m sorry I forgot about you.” She looked at him from below, her chin tilted up while he stroked it. She felt calm, relaxed even.
Stella looked at him with devotion and Dex looked at her with love.
“The doctor said it’s not permanent. I’m gonna be there when you remember.”
Summary: Dex finds her in a crowded club, beautiful and shining like a star. Even when she disappears, he doesn’t let go. He follows every trace she leaves behind, determined to have her, whether she wants it or not.
Characters: Benjamin Poindexter "Dex" x Ballerina Original Female Character
Author: Blackcat-9696 / Do not copy, publish, translate my work or claim it as your own.
Author note: Here again for some actions ;) Enjoy your reading...🐈⬛
Tag list (open) : @muffinbrown @avidreader73 @boydholbrooksblog
MASTERLIST
Chapter 11: Hades and Persephone
Marek Vargas was almost a copy of Fisk. Shaved head, massive build, always dressed in neat suits. The difference was the gangster style, something about the tattoos on his face and the rings he wore gave off a dangerous aura. You could tell by the look in his eyes that human life meant nothing to him. He hated women and despised weakness. Only his son escaped his cruelty, he was supposed to become his successor, the heir to his criminal empire. But a ballerina ended his life during a stupid night of spectacle and hunting. It was supposed to go like every other night, his wealthy clients would attend a performance worthy of an opera and afterward they could do whatever they wanted to the ballerinas, as long as none of them left alive. It was a profitable business, he had made a name for himself both in weapon trafficking and human trafficking. Then that night, one of them rebelled and used his son’s gun. Stella Bourdier. She was lucky she got hit by a car and ended up in an induced coma, otherwise he would have made her scream in pain for days, months, until there was nothing left but bones and flesh.
He scratched his long black-and-white beard in frustration. Not only could he not get revenge until she woke up, but she also seemed to have a terrifying ally. A killer with ruthless precision who had managed to destroy most of his weapon stockpiles, kill the entire chain of logistics managers organizing those bloody spectacles all the way up to Madame Mane, but he had also desecrated a church dear to his heart by killing all his guards and injuring cousins attending his son’s funeral. He had business to settle with Fisk so he hadn’t attended, but from what he had been told, the man had decapitated his son and placed his head on the altar beneath the cross with a note shoved inside his mouth that read:
‘If you kill Stella, I’ll hunt you down till I skin you alive.’
“Bullseye, you little fucker.”
Marek stopped abruptly in the middle of his furious pacing. He looked left and right, there was a line of guards, all heavily armed, standing at attention in the white hallway leading to a white door with a rectangular window. Fisk had given him an entire Anti-Vigilante Task Force unit to make up for his lack of manpower and he was disgusted by his own weakness against a single killer. Rage boiled inside him every time he thought about what Bullseye had done to his son’s corpse.
“How come nobody could stop him, huh?” He grabbed one of the two men following closely behind him by the collar, his personal bodyguards, the strongest and most ruthless men he had, and yet all of them feared him. “How is that possible?!” Marek screamed at the man who stood a whole head taller than him. His gray eyes burned red with anger as he shook the guard over and over before shoving him away. “I want him dead, do you hear me?”
“Yes sir.” Every man present in the hallway answered in unison.
Marek rolled his eyes and continued toward the door. His shoes had two-inch heels to compensate for his short height. He wiped the sweat off his shaved scalp before adjusting the jacket of his white suit. One of the armed men walking closely behind him opened the door for him.
“It’s about fucking time. Slow cunt.” He spat while entering the room. “He’ll see. I’ll destroy everything he’s ever cared about. Fucker.”
“Mister Vargas.” The doctor standing beside Stella’s postoperative bed quickly walked around to greet him. A red-haired woman in her forties wearing a doctor’s coat and a terrified expression. “I’m honored you came down here. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
The room was small, originally a place where they sterilized the women they didn’t kill quickly enough, now hastily transformed into a hospital room. The air was heavy, barely circulating through the broken ventilation system. Sweat nearly dripped down the doctor’s face from the heat but also from stress. She had sold her soul to the devil and the devil looked like an Eastern European man with a perfectly groomed white beard framing an oval face. His gray eyes beneath thick eyebrows scanned the room. An adjustable hospital bed with the head slightly raised, a table covered in gynecological medical instruments, a chair beside the bed and a nightstand holding a pitcher filled with water and an empty glass.
Stella lay there unconscious, completely unaware of the danger standing beside her. She wore a light blue hospital gown, a sheet of the same color covered the entire lower half of her body, her long curly hair braided loosely over her left shoulder, her hands resting flat against her stomach, an IV and several drips connected to her arm, bandages around her forehead and wrist, gauze covering her shoulders and neck. She looked peaceful, like a sleeping princess waiting for her prince charming.
Marek stared at her with disgust. This woman had literally caused his downfall and killed his son, yet she slept as if nothing had happened. His nostrils flared as his breathing grew harsher, and in a burst of rage he kicked the hospital bed hard enough to shove it several inches sideways.
“Fisk is busting my balls trying to sort this shit out and she’s still fucking sleeping?!” he yelled at the doctor, making her jump backward.
“I’m sorry, Mister Vargas. If we speed up the process, she could suffer side effects or worse.”
“What’s worse exactly? What’s worse than killing my only son!?”
“I’m really sorry for your loss.”
“Shut up!” He raised his hand to slap the doctor. She winced and closed her eyes while clutching her clipboard tightly against her chest.
“Sir!” One of the guards interrupted him with his finger pressed against the earpiece in his ear and Marek turned his head, still holding his hand midair. “We have a report of three dead bodies outside the fence.”
“What? Already? How did he find this place?”
“Pharrell talked.”
“That cursed cousin never knew how to keep his mouth shut.”
“He’s dead too.”
“I don’t fucking care. Bullseye murdered twenty of my best men with uh uh- what was it again?”
“Bible pamphlets.”
“Fucking pieces of paper. And he stole my money!? You better do your job and kill him the second he steps foot on my property. Double the security, you have to stop him from getting inside the ranch. Go take my savings to the helicopter, I won’t be long and you, stay with me.”
“Yes sir.” The two massive men answered at the same time. One of them left the room. Heavy bootsteps echoed as the thick door slowly closed by itself.
“You! Wake her up right now. We’re running out of time. I’ll be damned if he finds her alive.”
“She has a brain injury, her body needs time to recover from-”
“I don’t give a shit. Wake her up now.”
The doctor placed her clipboard on the surgical table. Marek licked his lower lip then bit down on it while watching her grab a syringe. She picked three vials lined up on the side, drew liquid from each one, then glanced one last time at Stella before taking hold of the IV line. The woman was nervous, twisting the plastic tubing in one hand while the syringe nearly slipped from the other. Marek stepped forward and his guard positioned himself in front of the closed door. She inserted the needle into the IV tube, rested her thumb against the plunger and hesitated before pressing down.
“I’m injecting her with Epinephrine, a neurochemical compound that will boost her muscles, and a cocktail of light drugs to keep her active.” She sounded like she was asking permission, waiting for any sign telling her not to do it, but Marek only stared at her angrily.
“You could inject her with piss for all I care. She needs to be conscious fast.”
“I have to warn you, the side effects will be unpredictable.”
“Did I stutter? Wake her up already. You’re wasting my time.”
The blue liquid slid through the IV line. It spread quickly through the tube and into Stella’s arm. She remained still, calm, deeply asleep while the substance circulated through her veins. The doctor tossed the empty syringe into the plastic trash can beside the bed. She looked at the heart monitor screen, Stella’s heartbeat rising second after second.
Waking someone from an induced coma this fast was impossible, normally it was a process that took hours, days, sometimes even months, but the palpable threat hanging over them left the doctor with no choice. She had made her own mixture and had no idea what the result would be. Stella could die the second she woke up and she wouldn’t even be surprised. Marek’s impatient sighs stressed her to the limit, the more time passed, the more hope the doctor lost.
Then suddenly, she saw Stella’s fingers twitch against her stomach. Scratches and bruises covered her arms while light spasms shook her body. She lifted one hand to her forehead, groaning weakly from exhaustion. Her heartbeat kept climbing. She ripped the bandage off in one violent motion. Good thing she didn’t have long nails, otherwise she would have clawed her own face open from the sheer force she used.
“Dex… Dex…” she murmured in confusion while moving her arms. When she opened her eyes, the neon lights above felt like they were burning her retinas. The machine’s beeping grew more frantic. The doctor shot a quick glance toward Marek, who was growing impatient. “Dex?”
Her vision was blurry, her eyelids heavy, her pupils dilated, it felt like waking up from being blackout drunk. Her head spun while she sat up in the bed. She tried pulling away the sheet trapping her body, the IV lines attached to her right arm making her frown. She ripped them out of her skin with a groan. The bloody sharp needles clattered against the white tile floor. Everyone else in the room remained silent.
“She’s having a heart attack,” the doctor panicked.
“She’s fine!”
“Où suis-je? Est-ce qu’il m’est arrivé quelque chose?" 'Where am I? Did something happen to me?' Stella mumbled, her mouth dry and still unable to clearly see who she was talking to.
“What’s that? French?”
The doctor approached her and Stella grabbed her wrist harshly.
“Qu’est-ce que je fais ici? Qui êtes-vous?” 'What am I doing here? Who are you?' A piercing sound tore through her skull, like someone driving an ice pick into her brain. She held her head, moaning in pain. The doctor tried to pull away but Stella’s grip was incredibly strong.
“Do you remember how to speak English?”
“What? Uh- yeah… yes. I- I do.” She pulled the doctor closer, forcing her to bend awkwardly toward her. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”
“You were in an accident, but we managed to save you and bring you back. You’re lucky one of the men knew CPR.”
“The men? Who? Where am I?”
“Enough of these games!” Marek shouted. Stella blinked several times.
“Who are you?”
Marek paused, looked at the doctor, the guard behind him, then Stella.
“Is this a joke?” He laughed darkly. “You killed my son.” He pointed at her.
“No, I would never do that. I’m just a ballerina.” A liquid tickled her nostrils. She brought her fingers to it and realized it was blood. She trembled while watching it run along her palm. “What’s happening to me? Please, I really don’t understand.”
“Memory loss is a side effect, Mister Vargas.”
“You gotta be kidding me. Is it permanent?”
“I have no idea…” the doctor answered fearfully.
“Fucking hell!” Marek turned around to join the guard standing by the door, hands on his hips. “She’s useless to me like this. How am I supposed to get my revenge if she doesn’t even know what I’m torturing her for?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Did he get inside the ranch?”
“I’m afraid so, sir.” The guard answered. Through his earpiece he could hear the screams of the tactical unit stationed outside and it didn’t sound good.
Marek thought for a second. The room was so small there was no privacy whatsoever in their conversation.
“Send a message to Bullseye.” He slightly turned his head to the side. “And leave no witnesses.”
There was a moment of silence after Marek left the room. When the heavily built guard rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. When his boots echoed as he approached Stella’s bed. Both women looked at each other anxiously before their gazes shifted toward the giant man blocking their path to freedom. The realization of the fate waiting for them hit them at the same time. Suddenly, Stella jumped off the bed. She felt even lighter than usual. No pain, only an extreme rush of adrenaline feeding her survival instinct. She felt strong, her reflexes heightened while she backed away toward the spotless white wall. She felt drugged and she was.
“Look, it doesn’t have to end this way.” The doctor tried to reason with the guard. He pulled a knife from his belt and she swallowed hard.
Meanwhile, Stella spotted the Mayo stand covered with all kinds of instruments laid out over a sterile surgical drape.
“The boss gave his orders. Can’t do anything about it.”
Stella slowly moved toward the scalpel she had spotted earlier. The cold air gave her goosebumps, she was naked underneath her light blue hospital gown.
“But I helped him! All those girls… I did everything he asked me to do.”
She slowly moved closer to the doctor with her hands hidden behind her back.
“You had a good life. Lotta money. Some of us get paid half of what you made.”
“Because I’m a fucking doctor! My life is valuable to him.”
Stella flinched at the sudden outburst but managed to grab the scalpel.
“Not anymore.”
The doctor had the same idea she did. There was no point begging for mercy, the outcome would be the same. She grabbed a manual surgical saw and raised it defensively.
“No way I’m dying today!”
“I like it when they put up a little fight.”
Two women against one massive man. The odds were rigged from the start. They had no chance. Yet Stella was overstimulated, her senses razor sharp. She felt everything, heard everything, saw everything. Being a ballerina made her agile, light on her feet and flexible. Neither of them could predict the strength of the man they were about to fight. But both of them wanted to live and they were ready to fight for it.
“Where the fuck is my wife, scumbags?!”
Bullseye yelled as he drove his knives between the eyes of two guards. This ranch was a fucking maze, he had been searching for Stella for at least an hour now, killing everything standing in his path.
“C’mon men. Where’s my Starlight?! Somebody better start talking because I’m fucking tired of this shit!”
He grabbed the machine gun of a bloodied guard lying on the floor and started shooting at everything that moved.
“Where is she? I swear to God, I’ll kill all of you. Where is she!?”
Bodies of dead agents rolled down the stairs and Dex came down with them. He took cover behind a wall to avoid the gunfire. He grabbed three knives and threw them at the perfect moment. His projectiles never missed. He walked heavily, shoulders tense, head lowered while breathing hard through his nose. His arms moved with deadly precision every time he handled his blades. An angel of death with one simple mission, find the woman they stole from him. Like Hades searching for Persephone on earth, there was no fucking way she wouldn’t spend eternity with him in hell. After days without sleep, his body was pushed to its limit. He had taken a few stray bullets, scratches tearing through his dark blue Bullseye suit, but nothing serious.
“You cheap bastard.”
More screams echoed while Bullseye made his way toward the basement floor, the only place he hadn’t searched yet. He killed using whatever landed in his hands, shards of glass, rifle stocks, even a grenade he picked up from the ground and threw with a satisfied laugh. The explosion blew the hallway apart into chunks of concrete. Torn-off legs, slashed arms and heads hanging lifelessly from bodies with exposed entrails painted a horrifying scene.
“The fuck’s wrong with you?” one of the Task Force agents shouted while hiding behind a block of concrete.
“Oh, I’m gonna show you.” Dex hooked a chunk of stone with his boot, grabbed it in his hand, tossed it into the air like a tennis ball before launching it toward the guard. The stone smashed into the man’s helmet. The second the guard reached a hand out from cover, Bullseye threw a knife straight through it. “Stella? Where’s Stella?!”
“Guys. It’s fucking Bullseye!”
“Yeah? And where is she?”
“Fuck off!” Five survivors from the explosion started unloading their magazines toward Bullseye, who had taken cover behind a metal table. “You don’t scare us, you’re full of shit.”
“Wrong answer.” Bullseye started running through the debris while the agents reloaded their machine guns. His knives flew like arrows, slicing arteries, piercing muscles, cutting tongues. “Murder. Murder. Murder! When are you gonna tell me where my wife is?!”
Bullseye stood in the middle of a pile of dead bodies. Dust floated around him. The silence was deafening. He sighed from exhaustion and slowly started walking down the hallway again. It took him a few minutes to reach an intersection. His dark eyes shined through the opening of his mask. The leather of his gloves creaked as he clenched his fists. Bloody footprints stained the tiles, small footprints soaked in blood. Before going where they led, he had to go where they came from.
An open door covered in bloody handprints, a hospital room, an empty bed and two dead bodies lying in the middle of a pool of blood. Bullseye didn’t want to walk through the doorway, carefully observing who the victims were. A red-haired woman and judging by her coat, a doctor, and a guard as broad as him if not bigger. The woman had died from a stab wound to the stomach and the man had a scalpel lodged in his neck. Both of them lying side by side like some twisted artistic scene from a novel.
He didn’t know how long he stared at them, lost inside his own thoughts. He was frozen, the fear of finding Stella dead still crushing his mind. She had to be alive, she had to be the one leaving those footprints, but he didn’t understand what had happened here and it scared the shit out of him. He heard a voice telling him to move, to hurry up and find Stella. And then the voice inside his head calmed down and he heard something else. A specific sound, helicopter blades.
His long legs moved fast, Dex ran wildly through the hallway. He followed the footprints he was sure belonged to Stella. His heart pounded hard inside his chest. The holster strapped across his torso bounced with every step against the tiled floor. He needed to see her so badly, it had been so long since he last touched her. He desperately missed the feeling of her skin against his and he ran faster toward that light, that star shining at the end of the dark tunnel he had been wandering through ever since he lost her.
Dex had always struggled to love without sinking into obsession, but with Stella he knew it was more than the fantasy of a sick mind, there was something sincere between them, something blooming every time they found each other again. He crossed the intersection he came from and kept going straight.
That basement hallway led directly to a staircase climbing all the way to the roof of the five-story luxury villa overlooking a ranch stretching across hundreds of acres in the Hudson Valley. Dex slammed his shoulder against a steel door that crashed against the stone wall. He stopped his run a few feet later, momentum forcing him into a brief stagger across the polished concrete while he watched Vargas’ helicopter disappearing into the dark sky. A crescent moon shined high between thick clouds. The lights surrounding the landing pad illuminated the rooftop, wind blowing against his overheated face. A flush hidden beneath his mask. A flicker of despair crossed through him, he thought she had disappeared again when he had been so close to finding her. He shook his head, breath uneven, eyes glistening.
“No… Starlight,” he whispered quietly.
“It’s so high.” Stella’s voice rose through the dusty wind. Dex turned left and saw her standing in the distance.
He smiled in relief, eyebrows tightening sharply. He sniffled while blinking rapidly, the moisture building in his eyes slowly fading as his panic disappeared. He took several deep breaths while walking toward her, her back still turned to him. Her light blue hospital gown was short on her, partly soaked in blood he hoped wasn’t hers. He could see part of her back and the curve of her ass between the loose ties behind her gown. Her long braid moved with the wind. She stood behind the railing, facing the drop and looking down. Her hands gripped the edge of the rusted metal barrier and he hated that. Seeing her in danger so carelessly.
She had no idea she held his heart in the palm of her hand, that she mattered more to him than his own life, that she had become the center of his universe and he hadn’t been able to sleep knowing she wasn’t safe. How could she be so unaware of what her absence did to him? Of the madness he had slowly started sinking into without her? He was relieved to have found her again but also furious she was in this incomprehensible situation after everything he had gone through to get her back.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Stella?!” Dex scolded her in a daze. She jumped at the sudden sound and her foot slipped. “Fuck!” was all he had time to say before she steadied herself again. “Be careful, for God’s sake!”
“Don’t come any closer.” She warned him and Dex stopped in his tracks.
She carefully turned toward him, finally facing him. She licked her lower lip, curls flying across her face, tear streaks visible against her dusty skin, one black eye, bruises scattered all over her body and dried blood along her right arm. Dex silently looked her up and down, stunned by how badly hurt she was.
“What did they do to you?”
“Don’t come near me or I’ll jump.”
“Not on my watch…”
“I won’t go back there. I won’t!” She shook her head before glancing behind her into the void. “I can’t.”
“What are you talking about?” He took two steps forward but stopped when he saw her panic again. The railing didn’t look stable and the rusted metal could snap at any second. “Starlight? It’s me, Dex.”
“D- Dex?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait… I- I-”
“Stella?” The way he said her name did something to her. She let go of the railing with one hand to massage her temple. That same warm sensation spread beneath her nose and she wiped away blood with her fingers. Dex moved a little closer while she was distracted.
“I- I don’t know you. Urgh my head is- spinning- hurting.”
“Come back to me. I’ll get you out of here. C’mon, Starlight. It’s dangerous.”
“I said your name when I woke up. Why did I say your name?”
“Listen to me.” He was losing patience. He was close but still not close enough to catch her if she lost her balance.
“I don’t trust you. You’re dressed like them.”
Dex removed his mask and revealed his face. His exhausted eyes, sharp features, the scar on his cheek, short salt-and-pepper hair flattened by the mask, his sculpted jaw and broad neck. He nodded when he saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes, her body slightly less tense even if she still kept her guard up.
“I’m not like them. I came to save you.”
“You’re the one he was talking about. He wanted to send you a message. And I didn’t understand what he meant until- the guard attacked me. He wanted to kill me.”
“Nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore.”
“You’re Bullseye…”
“I am.”
“Why did you come? They’re waiting for you.”
“I would sacrifice anything for you. Anytime.”
Police sirens echoed in the distance. From the rooftop, they could see the blue and red lights approaching from afar. It distracted Stella long enough for Dex to move closer toward her.
“We need to go.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You’ll have to come with me and find out.”
Stella looked behind her once more. It was really high, a deadly fall, nothing less. She looked back at Dex. He raised his hand toward her. An invitation that felt like déjà vu.
“I’m right here, Starlight.”
“Starlight?”
“A star to follow.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, growing more confused.
“It means I care about you. Deeply.”
“Why?!”
“Because I love you!” he said louder. “Simple as that.” He saw her hesitate. “Don’t be scared.”
“I’m not… I think.”
“Move carefully.”
He stopped hiding the fact he was walking toward her and she nodded, unsure of what she was doing but certain he didn’t want to hurt her. She carefully lifted one leg and brought it over the railing. Her other foot slipped against the concrete, the barrier failed under the impact and snapped beneath her weight.
“Aaah!” she screamed in terror while falling backward, arms flailing.
“I got you.” Dex caught her at the very last second and pulled her tightly against him. He stood back up with her in his arms. He held her close at the edge of the roof, far too desperate to breathe in her scent even if all she smelled like was sweat, it felt like paradise to him. “I finally found you…”
“Dex? The police cars are getting closer,” she said, slightly embarrassed by how good it felt to be held by him.
“Yeah, let’s get out of this mess.” He chuckled, far too euphoric to stop himself. He grabbed his mask from the floor before lifting her bridal-style. “Put it back on my face.”
“Those eyes…” she whispered while covering the lower half of his face. Only his gaze remained visible. “I’ve seen them somewhere before.”
“You definitely have.” He walked quickly across the rooftop with her in his arms, a sincere smile on his face.
“Aw my head… it hurts.” She curled up against him. He rested his cheek against her forehead, warm and strangely loving.
“I’m taking you to a doctor, don’t worry. What do you remember?”
“The plane… to New York.”
“Nothing about us?” He pushed through the door and started descending the stairs with her.
“No…”
“I’m gonna find the lowlife who hurt you, Starlight. I promise.”
“I heard his name… Marek Vargas.”
“I know. He’ll pay for this. I’m here now. I’m never letting you leave my side again.”
