black hole

i see your fantasy
you wanna make it a reality paved in gold

Her body was coming to a point where it felt well-rested enough that she began to stir, except there was a slight resistance when she tried to move. Despite that, her eyes remained closed a little longer, comfortable enough that she didn't want to force herself up and out of the bed. Someone shifted beside her, which made her brows knit together, almost forgetting she was still being held captive by this unnamed man. As she came back into consciousness and the realization began to settle, her eyes fluttered open and she inhaled a deep breath through her nose. The scent of smoke and vanilla was thick, which made her eyes open just a little wider where she was met with a cream-colored, dappled chest. Rayne reared her head back slightly while one paw was draped around a solid figure. She tilted her chin and was met with that mismatched face.

Her stomach churned as she immediately sat up and pulled herself away from his embrace, her nose wrinkled with distaste. She didn't realize she fell asleep soon after their scuffle, her failed attempt at freedom, and that he would no later than that pass out right next to her. How she ended up so wrapped up in him was beyond her, but she didn't like the thought of it, not even one bit.

Rayne cleared her throat as she moved off the bed and back to the window, side-glancing the one next to it to see if he remedied the issue. He did not, probably too sidetracked about sleeping, but it didn't even matter. She hopped back upon her perch by the neighboring window and rested her shoulder against it, saying nothing to him about what just transpired as they slept. It was bad enough she could still feel the wake of his tongue against the back of her thigh, the nip against her hip, and his nose running along the base of her tail.

Inwardly, she shivered, the reminder causing a warmth to radiate in a spot that she was becoming annoyed at. She didn't like the way her body was responding to him. He was sick, mean, and twisted and she wanted nothing to do with him, or this situation, but Rayne was very aware she would have to end up playing along with certain demands he had. Allowing him to touch her would not be one of those things, and so she made it a point to not accidentally sleep in his bed again.

So lost in her own thoughts she didn't realize how hungry she was until her stomach rumbled loudly, a reminder she hadn't eaten for a couple of days now due to the fact she had no appetite. The other part was she didn't want to accept anything from him, or those who prepared his food. At this point, she would have rather starved herself out of this situation, though it was not a peaceful way to go at all.

code // art

As a general rule, women don’t run from his bed but to it. She is the exception. There is only a moment where she looks at peace, still in that sleepy haze where nothing matters, where everything is alright in the world. Before reality comes crashing in, hard. But it does e eventually slam into her and she recoils, her lip curling with distaste that was directed at him. He regards her coolly, unappreciative of her look - like he was a common vagrant who had sullied her gown. Clearly she still didn’t have the slightest clue whose bed she occupied. It wasn’t all that often that he ran across someone who hasn’t at least heard whispers of his name. The Vincenza family name was synonymous with wealth - Enzo’s success as a businessman, his brothers prowess when it came to handling certain problems and now their sisters up and coming career as a lawyer. Their father had made sure the family name was carved into stone. When combined with each of their looks, Enzo’s in particular, it was hard not to know them. And yet, it was oddly refreshing.

She wasn’t after him and the lifestyle he could provide. All she wanted was to be rid of him, to escape this room and return to her old life. But there was no going back, only forward. Life didn’t permit you to take steps backward, to alter your choices to avoid the consequences. She couldn’t go back to that night and not drink as much, she couldn’t choose a different bar or avoid the glass she had stepped on. Her fate was sealed.

Returning to her safety net that was the windowsill, she avoided him once again. Ignoring his presence all together, she stared out the window. Mild amusement didn’t show on his features as he watched her with his usual indifference. So she was going to pretend that she didn’t spend the last few hours cuddling him. But her body had other needs. Needs she couldn’t ignore. Her stomach growled, signaling that she was hungry. No surprise there since she had rejected anything and everything he or the staff brought her. “Ready to eat yet?” Dark eyes watched her as he got to his paws. He should be rushing out the door, catching up on the meetings he missed while he napped napped, of all fucking things. Her presence here had a thrown a wrench in his life. But instead he had other ideas.

She’d only been here a few days but he could see her cracking. Her admission this morning was a step forward he intended to take full advantage of. He didn’t want her to worry, about anything really, he wanted to assure her that anything she ever needed or desired would come from him. And only him. She obviously wasn’t capable of taking care of herself, she had proven it the moment she drunkenly stumbled into him before stepping on glass. She needed guidance. Discipline. His rules. His rewards.

code // art

i see your fantasy
you wanna make it a reality paved in gold

Her jaw clenched as her stomach grumbled again. Inwardly, she hissed, knowing he was going to comment on it. Many times before, he had offered her food, and each time, she had denied him. Yet now, a grim realization settled in: Rayne didn’t really want to die, especially not by starvation. She needed to eat, but throughout this ordeal, a new part of her personality had emerged—she was stubborn. Though kindhearted and usually putting others first, all she wanted was for him to leave her alone, to be at peace, to not be in this situation at all.

When his voice broke the silence, her gaze remained fixed on the horizon over Rionna. She hesitated to respond, wanting to ignore him completely, but the pang in her stomach began to make her feel nauseous. Her body felt weak; sleep could only do so much without nutrition.

Slowly, she turned her gaze toward him. He stood there, features stoic, hair barely ruffled from their nap. His eyes burned into her, and it seemed he had no intention of moving, even if she chose not to answer. As she looked at him, her heartbeat quickened—a feeling she was starting to associate with getting lost in his mismatched gaze. It was annoying, really. Of all things, this man—rude, sick in the head, and cold—was blessed with striking, attractive features.

Her nostrils flared as she exhaled a heavy breath, finally parting her lips to respond. "Yes," she responded dryly. Her voice was cold, laced with disdain. Since he had denied her freedom, she had said very little to him, uninterested in small talk. What frustrated her most was that he seemed okay with it. It didn’t bother him that she didn’t want to speak to him. It didn’t bother him that he held her against her will, in other words, kidnapped her. It didn’t bother him that she felt uncomfortable within the confines of his four walls. She was his pet, and what came after that, or what use he had for her, was beyond her understanding.

Rayne didn’t have a criminal mind, and thus could not read him as easily as he seemed to read her. It annoyed her, stirring something deep inside that she didn’t know existed. It was a different kind of anger, a simmering hatred. The girl who had once found the bright side to most things was now regularly chased by a storm cloud that raged with thunder.

code // art

Yes. Her voice was flat, cold even as she moved through all the steps that would eventually lead her to acceptance. He'd been waiting for her anger, anticipating it. Anger was something he knew, something he understood well. It was something he could work with. A storm brewed in her bright baby blues and Enzo was ready to meet it head on. She was not the first storm he had weathered and she certainly wouldn't be the last. Though she was the first of her kind. If she was to remain a fixture in his life, then he needed to know that she could fire breath when necessary, that she wouldn't fold in the face of opposition. Not when he was at her back and not when she was alone.

Walking to the door, he unlocked it, the quiet click of the lock sliding into place was loud in the quiet. "Tira fuori qualcosa di appena pescato." Bring up something freshly caught. Rich lyrics snapped at one of the staff members who just so happened to be passing by. "E manda qualcuno a riparare la serratura della mia finestra. Ora.>" And send someone up to fix the lock on my window. Now. With a quick nod, the wolf disappeared. Closing the door behind him, he didn't lock it this time. It wasn't exactly a test, she'd get lost in the halls before she ever found the door, but he was curious to see if she'd try.

"What's your name?" He finally asked, in a language she would understand. The common tongue flowed just as easily as his italian, but there was something more decadent when he spoke his first language. He hadn't bothered to ask her name before now, partly because he hadn't intended on keeping her long enough to need her name. But oh how things had changed. Making his way to one of the chairs near the window she favored, he took a seat, making himself comfortable as they waited for their meal to return.

code // art

i see your fantasy
you wanna make it a reality paved in gold

Blue eyes watched him intently as he approached the door and swung it open. In that fleeting moment, she peered over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the extended hallway beyond. A maid, she assumed, passed in the hallway, prompting him to utter a few words in a language she didn’t recognize at her. The maid’s nodded, scurrying away, and Rayne’s brows knitted together in confusion. The foreign tongue piqued her curiosity, but she refrained, resisting the urge to ask him what it was.

He closed the door behind him without locking it, a silent challenge hanging in the air. She understood now that this was part of his little game—a tantalizing dance of cat and mouse that amused him far too much. Shifting her focus, Rayne observed him as he settled into a chair by the window, his posture relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world. The silence stretched between them, thick and palpable, and she remained rooted in place, her gaze locked onto his face, searching his eyes for any sense of actual remorse.

Eventually, he broke the quiet, asking her name.

Rayne’s head snapped back slightly, unamused by his attempt at small talk. The stubborn part of her bristled at the question; she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Yet a nagging realization lingered in her mind: the mere act of asking for her name indicated that he intended to keep her here for some time. What would he do with that information? She weighed the options carefully, finally deciding to offer him only her first name. “Rayne,” she replied, her tone as dry as the air around them.

“And yours?” she countered, an eyebrow raised at him. It was only fair she was allowed the same information, though she wondered if he would be honest about it given his disposition.

So many questions danced on the tip of her tongue—Why was he keeping her? What were his true intentions? But deep down, she knew she wasn’t ready to explore those waters. The answers would likely be ones she wouldn’t like, so she steered clear of the subject, preferring the safety of her own silence for the moment.

code // art

Everything about her screams contempt for him. Too bad Enzo doesn’t care and remains unbothered. She bristles at his question, like he is the audacious one for asking. After some consideration, she would answer him though. Rayne. It’s oddly simple when compared to her painted face and the spark in her personality. Yet it suits her all the same. But she is no heavy rain that cleanses the earth and brings life, she does not offer nourishment. She is but a raindrop. A minuscule part of the storm. So small and so inconspicuous while still being a promise of what is to come - the last of the calm before the store. And yours? Her voice brushes against his ears, refocusing his attention.

“Enzo.” No sense in keeping it from her. But he doesn’t give her his full name. Only his father calls him Lorenzo, well, and those who are begging for his mercy. Everyone else calls him Enzo. And he’s just fine with that.

The soft knock at the door is followed by it being opened, a servants head tentatively peeking in before stepping fully into the room, their meal in tow. With a vague wave of his paw, the young wolf brings it to the table within Enzo’s reach before disappearing as he had arrived. The staff was always pleasantly quick in fulfilling their duties. That fact was proven when another appeared, silently heading to the window to repair the lock. Enzo sat unbothered and unfazed by their presence, a king in his palace which everyone and everything at his beck and call. “Come here.” His voice is deceptively soft as he beckons her. But silken vocals are laden with a command, a steely rigidity that doesn’t offer her room to deny him.

What he has planned she can even begin to fathom and he eagerly waits for her to balk. He does not offer her a seat beside him because there isn’t one. He’s offering her the place at his feet, on her knees. But he waits, patiently, for her to come closer, to approach him before realization settles in the form of indignation. She bends and breaks so prettily though, he’s starved for another glimpse, for another thread of her resolve to snap. The sweet taste of submission. The scent of their meal fills the room, fresh and still warm, it’s enough to make his mouth water and he hasn’t skipped any meals over the last few days. He suspects she won’t be able to resist, hunger has a way of making someone more compliant. Death by starvation was slow and painful. The real question was whether or not she could stomach the humiliation she’d feel.

code // art

i see your fantasy
you wanna make it a reality paved in gold

Enzo.

She knows that his name is short for something, but there weren't enough faces of other's she met in her time traveling that she would be able to pull it from a list. Rayne allowed the thought to fade into the deeper parts of her mind, for now, in the meanwhile she sponged his name into memory. Enzo. The name of her capture, the name of a man who she felt sickened by, the same of the man who would probably end up killing her. Even though only a couple days passed she was convinced that, in the end of it all, that was his motive. The longer she played his game, the longer she would stay alive, but was it worth it? If she made him grow bored of her then maybe he would more willing to put her out of her misery quicker.

The gears turned in her head, but her attention was quickly pulled into the direction of the housekeepers bringing the food. The scent immediately wafted into the room, her stomach turned in a way she never felt before. It hurt, past the point of just hunger pains. She could no longer collect his musk past the smell of the meal, her mouth watered at the delicacy of it all. She swallowed back the collection of saliva that pooled in her jaws, watching as they brought the food over to Enzo and placed it at the table before him.

Rayne doesn't move, unsure of what she should be doing until his words break the raging storm of her thoughts. 'Come here.' His tone changes, it is softer than usual, but rigid with demand. She inhaled a slow, deep breath, and decides it best to let her stubbornness take a back seat for now. As she walks closer, however, he does not move from the single seat that is near the window and table, the only spot that was open and close to both was the empty floor at his feet. Her cheeks grew hot, flushed with a sense of embarrassment and anger. Rayne should have known than to be so stupid to think he would offer the only seat at the table. He wanted to do nothing more than strip her of her dignity, and laugh in her face about it.

Her stomach churns again and her jaw clenches tightly, so much so she feels it begin to cramp. The hairs on the back of her nape bristle, her stomach yelling at her let it go and just yield. Her nostrils flare at him as she walks closer, her muscles stiffened, the anger that bubble in her wanted to lash out and grab onto anything she could reach. Her cold gaze burns into his, and if looks could kill he would have dropped dead at her paws. Rayne's jaw is still clenched as she closes in on the space in front of him, her movements slow as she nears the floor and bends.

code // art

It doesn’t dawn on her, not right away. Only when she’s a few feet from him does realization slap her hard in the face. Embarrassment and anger flash in her eyes and then her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. There’s only one obvious place for her and now she knows it. Every fiber of her being balks at the idea of her being at his feet, being anywhere that would imply she is beneath him. Which is exactly where Enzo wants her, but not for the reasons she thinks. Once she got past the humiliation, once she craved being at his mercy, it would be much easier for her. She’d learn soon enough, that he is sure of. And right now, her hunger is driving her straight to her knees. She could glare at him all she wanted. He suspected that he’d be dead if looks could kill and it made him want to smile. But he didn’t. His features remained just as cool and even as always.

She closes the distance between them with stiff, jerky movements, displaying how much she hates this, hates him. He enjoys how easy she is to read, giving him everything he needs to know. With her jaws clenched and eyes blazing with defiance, she does as she’s told and she kneels at his feet. “Good girl.” His voice is a low growl.

The rustling of the employee is ignored entirely. He is even the slightest bit impressed that she is ignoring him, someone to witness her humiliation. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes for the lock to be fixed, for Enzo to once again have her all to himself. Though in truth, he isn’t in a rush “You must have questions.” Rayne hasn’t asked a single question single her arrival. Up until know, he hasn’t wondered why. Regardless, he gives her the floor if she’s wants it. In the meantime, he tears off a piece of meat before looking down at her again. There’s a challenge in his dark eyes. Whatever food she decides to take, will only come from his fingertips. “Ask them.” He prompts. While she ate, he could answer. But, first, she had to let go of her pride.

code // art

i see your fantasy
you wanna make it a reality paved in gold

Good girl.

She could spit at him, right in his smug, stupid face. The anger the swells in her is something she never imaged, a patience being tested, her boundaries behind pushed. The ringing in her ears is screaming, drowning out the rustling of the lock as its being fixed and she almost forgot the man was there entirely. Not once has she pulled her gaze from Enzo, she felt as though she didn't even blink. The hatred, the rage, is building up piece by piece to the point that she feels it is at the brim and ready to bubble over.

'You must have questions.' She grinded her teeth together as he took the first bite, not offering her any in return. 'Ask them.' Her mind wrapped around the billions of questions she had prior, but it seemed they vanished once she became his entertainment for the evening. Rayne does her best to collect her thoughts because if she were to open her mouth right now she would snatch his smug look right off his face. In truth, she was too scared to do that because she was entirely out of her comfort zone. This was his domain, and it was filled with an army.

She watched as he took another bite of the food and would hold it out for her to eat, at his leisure. It was then that her anger became unhinged, no longer able to remain at the brim of her cup. She didn't take his offering, at that point she chose to starve.

"You're a fucking asshole," the words are foreign, for she isn't a woman who uses profanity—ever. She is so angry, so besides herself however, that she finds it is not beyond her in this moment. "I hope you drop dead from some minor inconvenience." She grinds her teeth together as he continues to eat and she knows he will be unphased, which only makes her more angry. If she was able to take a step back, even for a moment, she would realize this, but she is far too hungry, tired and overwhelmed. He is breaking her, slowly, bit by bit, hour by hour, but only one thing remains unchanged.

He is still a vile, disgusting, stupidly attractive, asshole.

"Why," a simple question, yet it is fully loaded. "Do you do this often?" She couldn't hold back the cynical, short-lived laugh that passed her lips. "What's next, huh? Are you going to kill me? Dispose of me? Act like this never happened?" She was growing bold, an usual thing for her, but she wasn't finished. She rose to her paws and closed the gap between them, her face inches from his, so close that she felt her heart drop to her stomach. He was much more attractive and she could see every fine detail of his face, up to the speckles that littered the lighter parts of her fur. She paused for a moment, enthralled by him, but she regained her composure as fast as she could.

"Just do it," another laugh, "I don't want to look at you anymore, can't you tell?" If he looked hard and long enough he would see the glint of wet behind her fierce, oceananic gaze. And if he looked hard than that he would take note of the droplets of blood against her lips from where her teeth grinded against flesh. A futile attempt of trying to get a hold of reality once more.

code // art

In the vibrancy of her blue eyes, her temper explodes. She is pissed. Her indignation runs rampant and she is blind to anything else. The dark and twisted parts of him crave it like an addict craves their next hit. But the other side of him? The side that seizes control and demands obedience, he doesn't care for her outburst. Neither are displayed on his features. Enzo is infuriatingly unresponsive despite the urge to punish that rushes to the surface.

You're a fucking asshole. He bites back his smirk. "Such a dirty mouth for such a pretty face." He chides, knowing full well that it will only infuriate her more. When she wishes his cause of death to be a minor inconvenience, he almost laughs. It would seem Rayne had a mouth on her when she was mad.

She wants to know why, she demands it and he doesn't respond. For once, Enzo doesn't have an answer and somehow he imagines that won't sit well with her. "Actually, no." Enzo had had his fair share of women in his life, some for a few hours and others over the span of a season, but he discarded them all eventually. None of them had ever fallen into his lap so unexpectedly, with such a give no fucks attitude when it came to her own safety. She was a walking hazard to herself. Which meant he should have stayed as far away from her as possible, yet here he was.

Rayne's laugh is a short, sharp bark. With the window fixed, the wolf left, leaving him alone with her once more, to answer her questions. "I don't have any plans to do kill you." Carefully chosen words were not a promise that she'd live a long and healthy life. Whatever he said didn't matter though, not when she got to her feet and met him head on, getting in his face. This close, he could see all the mountains of ice and valleys of deep indigo in her eyes. Her breath was hot on his face, huffing with her rage. For a moment, that fury diminished to a low simmer and he knew then what she was seeing. Pale merle splashed across half of his face, the rich, earthy tones that shadowed the rest of his features. His eyes flecked with gold and ash, warm and cold - polar opposites like most things about him.

It wasn't until she laughed, daring him to just kill her already. Lorenzo Vincenza rose to his paws then, stretching to his full height as he slid off his chair, giving her no choice but to back him or be overwhelmed by his sheer size. There was a chilling glint in his eyes, but his lips didn't curl, a snarl didn't part his jaws as he stepped into her space, following her if she tried to esacpe until he had the chance to sweep her legs out from under her and cage her between his legs. "No, actually." He'd answer her question then. "I think you rather like looking at me." Arrogance oozed from his words. Up close and personal, he could see the moisture hiding behind her eyes, something he ignored once he noted the crimson that stained her lips. Her own blood. "Don't you?" He challenged, his eyes leaving her lips to meet her savage stare.

code // art