3: The Cage of Gold

Isabella’s pov

I kicked, thrashed, and cursed Luca Devereaux to hell and back—but it didn’t matter.

His grip was unyielding, his arm locked around my waist as he carried me out of the underground club like I weighed nothing. The night air wrapped around us, crisp and cool, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire burning in my veins.

“Put me down, you bastard!” I snarled, pounding my fists against his back.

Luca let out an exasperated sigh, his voice silky with amusement. “You’re awfully loud for someone who just had her life spared.”

I saw red.

Spared? As if I should be grateful? As if being dragged out of that club and thrown into the clutches of a monster was some kind of mercy?

No.

I wasn’t some weak, trembling thing for him to claim.

So I did the first thing that came to mind.

I bit him—hard.

My teeth sank into the firm muscle of his shoulder, tearing through fabric, through him, until I tasted the sharp tang of blood on my tongue.

The moment it happened, everything shifted.

Luca’s body went still. Tensed. His grip tightened just enough to make me aware of the dangerous power caged within his muscles. A slow, lethal inhale—like a beast restraining itself.

Then—

He chuckled.

The sound wasn’t anger.

It was something darker.

More dangerous.

More hungry.

“Bad little pets get punished, dolcezza.”

Before I could react, I was tossed into the backseat of a sleek black car, the impact stealing the breath from my lungs. I scrambled upright, reaching for the door—locked.

My pulse pounded as Luca slid in beside me, stretching out in the seat like he had all the time in the world.

The scent of his blood filled the enclosed space, sharp and metallic, mingling with the dark spice of his cologne. I watched, stunned, as he dragged his fingers over his shoulder where my teeth had torn his flesh.

A single drop of crimson slid down his skin.

And then—his tongue flicked out, catching it.

My breath hitched.

Luca smirked, eyes gleaming like molten silver. “You bite like a wild little thing.”

“Go to hell,” I spat.

His fingers drummed lazily against his thigh, far too close to mine. “Oh, bella, I plan to take you with me.”

------------------------

The Gilded Cage

The car weaved through the city, taking us to the wealthiest district of New Orleans, where the air smelled like money, sin, and things far darker than either.

When the car finally stopped, I expected some cold, lifeless mansion.

Instead, I found myself staring at a penthouse carved into the night sky, towering above the city like a king’s throne.

Luca stepped out first. I refused to move.

He sighed and leaned down, his fingers skimming my wrist in a slow, warning caress. “You have two choices,” he murmured. “Walk inside, or I’ll carry you again. And this time, I won’t be so gentle.”

A slow heat licked at my skin.

I should have fought harder. Should have spat in his face and made him regret taking me.

But my body was still weak from the bite, my mind unsteady from the lingering pleasure of it.

So I walked.

--------------------------

A Dangerous Game

The moment we stepped inside, the doors locked behind us.

The penthouse was a kingdom of black marble and gold, dimly lit with warm, decadent shadows. Everything screamed luxury, but beneath it lay a predator’s den.

I turned to face him, glaring. “You can’t keep me here.”

Luca prowled toward me, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing a sliver of bare skin, the faintest hint of muscle.

“Watch me.”

A slow, predatory smirk curled his lips as he reached for a cut crystal decanter, pouring a deep red liquid into a glass.

He lifted it to his lips.

My stomach tightened.

Because I knew what it was.

Not wine.

Not whiskey.

Blood.

His silver gaze locked onto mine as he took a slow, deliberate sip, his tongue flicking over his lower lip to catch a stray drop.

I shivered.

Something about it—about him—was unbearably sensual, despite the horror of it all.

Luca watched me for a long moment before placing the glass down and stepping closer.

I backed up.

He followed.

The air between us crackled, something thick and hot and inescapable coiling tight around my throat.

“I’ve been patient with you,” he murmured, lifting a hand. His fingers ghosted over my collarbone, barely touching—just enough to make me shiver. “But let’s get one thing clear.”

His fingers trailed lower, not touching, just hovering over the silk of my dress.

I stopped breathing.

“You are mine, Isabella.” His voice was smooth as sin, his gaze hooded. “And you will learn to obey.”

My skin burned. My pulse pounded so hard it ached.

I hated him.

Hated the way he controlled me. Hated the way my body thrummed with heat under his gaze.

So I did the only thing I could.

I lifted my chin. “Make me.”

Luca went very, very still.

Then—

He grabbed me, twisting my wrists behind my back. My spine arched against the pressure as he pressed me flush against the wall.

“Careful, bella.” His breath ghosted over my lips, close enough to kiss, but he didn’t. “I might take that as an invitation.”

His thigh pressed between mine, pinning me, forcing my body to mold to his.

Heat coiled low in my belly, wicked and shameful.

Luca chuckled. “Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing my jaw, teasing, taunting. “So desperate to fight. So desperate to win.”

His grip tightened.

“Do you want to know what happens when you challenge me?”

His tongue flicked over my pulse point, slow and deliberate.

I let out a shaky breath, chest heaving.

“Go to hell,” I whispered.

Luca smiled against my skin.

“Oh, bella,” he murmured. “Welcome to it.”

He pulled away just as fast, leaving me shaking, breathless, burning.

Luca’s smirk was wicked.

“Sweet dreams, dolcezza.”

And then, he left me alone in my gilded cage.