LORD

I think of what I'm going to do with the rogue maid. This can't go on. Hazel has broken rule after rule. It's only a matter of time before she brings her friends along to her little trips at night. I can't lose the order of the estate.

What should I do?

I've never had a dilemma of this nature. Never protected a rule-breaker simply because they're female. Even the maids I sleep with don't get excused from their duties. This girl, who I know nothing about, should be no exception.

I get a call from Walker, who tells me he will leave his estate to ask a few questions in town. We take turns because we can't afford to leave our estates for too long.

Years of investigating have led us here. We're so close to finding the man that murdered my brother, lied to his soldiers, and turned them all into monsters. Once I find him, I will cut his face so he has to hide from the world, too.

Walker's coughing is worse than ever, but the man won't die soon. The experiment made us practically indestructible. I wish I could sit with him and drink a scotch. It has been months since we've met face to face, although our estates are not too far apart. When we're together, we don't have to hide our faces. We can talk, joke, and insult each other. Other than him, one has the backbone to talk back to me.

My thoughts shift to the girl. Hazel. She doesn't talk back but certainly defies me every chance she gets.

I could have her banished, and yet she keeps testing me. What is she searching for? My servants are satisfied with my rules because they are not interested in leaving the estate for the demolished world. Except for her. The most vulnerable one. The naive, small, trusting girl who the world could swallow.

I hear a creak and realize I've crushed my pen. Ink runs down my hand and onto the papers on my desk. With a grunt, I throw what remains of the pen in the garbage and look for a napkin.

Things are quickly becoming messy.

– • –

Three Days Later

Walker thinks he has found the location of the general's son. He's across the country. Far, but not unreachable. Not with all the money we've got.

The general might crawl out of his hiding spot if we capture his son–although that's not guaranteed. He might keep hiding to save his skin. The greedy bastard only serves himself.

Tonight, I'm heading out to town. Its accessibility makes it a drug-trafficking hotspot. There are plenty of loyal thugs that I could hire. Walker insisted on going, but he has done enough this week. I know he wants to stay home and stare at the pretty librarian, who he doesn't dare to approach. He has been watching her from afar for years.

Must be something in the water.

I scowl at the invasive thought. I have not been watching Hazel. I only read her file a dozen times and stared at her picture for a few minutes before returning to work. If anything, she's the one that's following me.

I pull my hoodie on and tuck my gun into my waistband. It's late. No servants are walking the halls tonight.

I take the underground exit from the estate–a door only accessible to me. The hoodie hangs low over my head, blocking most of my sight. But I don't need sight. My hearing is enhanced, and my reflexes are fast.

I once considered wearing gloves to hide the scars on my hands but dismissed the idea. I wanted the town to see a hint of who was prowling. One man got too curious and tried to yank my hoodie off. He now has his own hand scars: Two missing fingers.

I walk into town. There are more people than usual tonight, probably because of the enormous jackpot that's being gambled.

As I lean against a light pole that hasn't worked in decades, I listen to the conversations and faint music. I smell the food getting fried on the nearby stand with oil that hasn't been changed in a month. I see a figure across the street crouching beside a store. They're trying to spy on me and failing.

One small hand is pressed against the brick of the store. The nails are short and trimmed–not painted. Her bottom lip is between her teeth, and I can see the imprint of a knife in her satchel.

"Hazel," I growl, crossing the road to reach her.

She makes a run for it but doesn't get far. I have her pressed against the wall in seconds. My boot dips into the mud and filth, but I keep my stance. I pin her with my weight and turn my head so she can only see my chin.

"I thought I told you not to leave your estate," I grit.

My voice is full of anger, but I don't alter it like I did when I met her in the estate as the Lord. I don't know why I want her to think we're different men.

"How– how do you know I'm from the estate?"

"Because you reek of vulnerability. Go home before your Lord misses you."

"No."

I freeze. No? When was the last fucking time that I was told no?!

"I came for business. To trade with you," she whispers.

"What could you possibly have to offer me? I have no interest in your virginity."

I can't remember the last time I lied. I've had no reason to. No one has authority over me, and I have no one to impress. I do what I want, no excuses needed.

"I–I'm not..." she stammers.

"Your lies are as bad as your spying. What the fuck do you want from me?"

She takes a deep breath, seeking bravery. "I made you a hoodie."

A hoodie? I've got a damn estate, enhanced genetics, and dozens of servants, and she brings me a hoodie?

"Why?" I growl, pressing harder against her.

"Because... I wanted to exchange information. Tell me what you know about the Lord of the estate, and I'll give you the hoodie."

She's truly innocent. She has never lived outside the estate and doesn't know how business works in the real world. Men wouldn't be interested in a hoodie.

"I have no use for your hoodie," I reply.

"Oh," she says, disappointed. "Then what do you..."

I must stop her from keeping these suicidal trips. She can't keep following me into this deadly town unprotected.

"A kiss," I grit. "Give me a fucking kiss."

If she wants danger, I'll give it to her.

Her lips tremble, and she stiffens. I expected this. Her pink, full lips have never kissed a boy, much less a man.

"Well!" I roar, trying to scare her.

Fear is safety. It will keep her in the estate, where she should always be.

"Oka–"

I swoop in before she can finish the word, pressing my lips against hers, consuming her peripheral vision with my hoodie. She slightly parts her lips, and I take the opportunity to slide my tongue inside and take her breath. I kiss her with all the frustration curling in my veins. Kiss her expertly, showing her a sensuality she has only dreamed of as she lay in bed in her little nightgown.

She makes little sounds that condemn my cock to hell. I keep my hips on her, pressing my cock against her belly and showing her what danger is.

If this cock ever entered her, she would become mine. She'd be taken by a beast. I know I would become addicted–something that has never happened before.

I pull away and lightly dig my teeth into her neck so that when she looks in the mirror, she will be reminded of what's outside the estate: A beast. Danger.

I pull away, and she slacks against the wall, panting.

I lean in and whisper, "The estate's Lord is called Ronan. Our deal is complete. Now go and don't return."

I leave her against the wall with wet panties, signaling to my hidden guard to follow her home.

My thoughts are clouded as I return to the estate. I pace the office, my dirty boots scuffing the fine carpet.

The phone rings. I pick it up, knowing that Walker is calling for an update.

"Well?" he asks. "What did you find in town?"

I found fucking trouble. My name. I gave her my name.