2: The Blood Pact

Isabella’s pov

Pain.

Pleasure.

Fire.

A gasp tore from my lips as Luca’s fangs pierced my skin, a sharp sting that melted into something far more dangerous.

The initial bite was quick, a piercing sensation that sent a searing jolt through my body. But then—then came the pull. Deep, slow, and intoxicating, like he was drinking in more than just my blood. My very essence seemed to unravel with every languid draw.

I should have been screaming. I should have been fighting, thrashing against him, clawing at his arms—anything but this damnable surrender. But my limbs felt heavy, my head tipped back against the cold marble pillar as my breath hitched.

Luca growled against my skin, a deep, primal sound of satisfaction. His grip on my waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of my dress as if he was afraid I might slip through his grasp. The force of it pinned me to him, my body molded against his in a way that was both intimate and possessive.

A slow, aching pulse throbbed between my thighs, and my stomach twisted in horror at my own response.

No.

No, no, no—

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms as if pain could sever the invisible thread binding me to him.

But Luca felt it.

He knew.

His tongue flicked over my pulse point, a deliberate, sensual caress that sent an involuntary shiver through me. The bite marks sealed beneath his touch, the lingering sting fading into something more insidious—a warmth that coiled through my veins, a feeling I refused to name.

His head lifted slowly, silver eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

"You liked that," he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement.

I jolted out of my daze, mortification crashing through me in waves.

“Go to hell,” I spat, jerking my chin away from his grasp.

Luca’s smirk widened, unbothered, indulgent. “Dolcezza, if this is hell, you’ve already surrendered to it.”

I hated the way his words slithered under my skin, wrapping around me like chains I couldn't break.

His fingers curled beneath my chin again, tilting my face back up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You belong to me now,” he said smoothly, each word edged with quiet authority. “You will eat when I say, sleep when I say, and when I decide to ruin you, it will be because you beg me to.”

My stomach tightened.

Hate.

Lust.

Fear.

They tangled together in a suffocating knot.

I needed to get away from him. To breathe air that wasn’t thick with his scent—smoky, expensive, lethal.

Summoning what little strength I had left, I shoved at his chest, desperate to reclaim some control, but he didn’t move. He didn’t even stumble. He simply stood there, solid, immovable, as if my defiance only amused him.

His smirk deepened. “I like it when you fight,” he murmured, his fingers ghosting down my arm. “Makes breaking you that much sweeter.”

Something inside me snapped.

I slapped him.

The sound was sharp, loud enough to cut through the low hum of conversation around us. A hush fell over the club. The men who had been watching from the shadows stiffened, waiting.

Watching.

Luca’s head turned slightly from the impact, his jaw tightening for the briefest moment. Then, slowly—deliberately—he dragged his tongue over his lip, catching the single drop of blood not mine, but his, where my nails must have grazed his skin.

A slow shiver ran through me.

His silver eyes glowed with something dark. Something dangerous.

“Oh, bella…” His voice was a soft, velvety threat.

I barely had time to react before his fingers curled around my wrist, yanking me against him.

My body collided with his, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. He was all heat and steel, his presence so overwhelming that for a moment, I forgot how to move. How to think. I felt every hard, commanding inch of him—his grip firm but not bruising, his body an unshakable force against mine.

Luca leaned in, his lips grazing my ear, his breath warm as he murmured, “You’re going to regret that.”

A chill raced down my spine, but I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see my fear.

“I already do,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I meant the slap—or the way my pulse betrayed me under his touch.

His chuckle was low, dark, a promise of reckoning.

Before I could react, Luca moved, swift and effortless, as if I weighed nothing at all.

I barely had time to gasp before I was lifted off the ground.

Thrown over his shoulder like a goddamn prize.

A furious shriek tore from my lips as I pounded my fists against his back. “Put me down, you bastard!”

Luca ignored me, striding through the club as if I weren’t thrashing against him.

Men parted as he passed, some smirking in amusement, others wisely averting their gazes. No one stopped him. No one questioned him.

Because he was Luca Devereaux. And in this world, his word was law.

Panic clawed at my throat as the cool night air hit my skin when we stepped outside. I didn’t know where he was taking me, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

I wasn’t walking out of this willingly.

I twisted against his hold, kicking my legs as hard as I could. “I swear to God, I will make your life a living hell—”

Luca laughed, the sound deep and rich, sending heat curling through me despite my fury.

“Oh, dolcezza,” he mused, effortlessly holding me in place. “You already have.”

I felt the shift in his stance before I saw it.

And then—

I was falling.

No—not falling.

Being tossed.

A gasp wrenched from my throat as my back hit something soft—plush leather, smooth and cool against my overheated skin. My heart pounded wildly as I scrambled up, only to find myself caged inside the backseat of a sleek, black car.

Luca slid in beside me, the door slamming shut with an ominous finality.

The driver didn’t speak. Didn’t ask questions. He simply started the engine and pulled away from the club.

I lunged for the door handle.

Luca’s fingers closed around my wrist in a vice grip before I could even touch it.

“Try that again,” he murmured, his gaze burning into mine, “and I’ll make sure you’re tied down for the rest of the ride.”

I swallowed hard, my breath coming in shallow, uneven pants.

This was real.

I wasn’t dreaming.

I wasn’t escaping.

I had been taken.

Luca leaned back against the seat, utterly relaxed, as if abducting me was just another Tuesday night for him.

He glanced at me, amusement flickering in his silver eyes.

"Welcome to your new home, dolcezza."