Unleashed, Unmatched Book 2



If this had been Samantha’s first time on a private jet, she might have been dazzled by the luxurious cabin or the top-shelf martini in Baccarat crystal the flight attendant placed at her side. But she was more interested in the way Henri continued to silently stare at her from his seat across the aisle.

Finally, he spoke. “Has anyone ever studied your condition?”

She picked up her martini and placed it at her lips. “Studied? You mean by a doctor?”

He nodded. “A medical search revealed only a few documented cases of amygdala dysregulation that manifested with a strong attraction to risk.”

She shook her head. “Only my neurologist even knows that my panic button was somehow misplaced. It’s my family’s little secret.” She took another sip. “Why? Do you want to put me under a microscope, doctor?”

His eyes narrowed, smoldering for a moment, and then returning to stark sobriety. Only a small smile passed quickly over his lips. “I can’t deny that testing your limits is fun. But as a physician, I’m also fascinated by the science.” He loosened his tie and settled back into his chair. “Would you be open to it?”

“Would you be the one studying me?”

“Yes, but I’m not a neurologist.”

“I’m not your patient.” She smiled. “I’m a submissive.”

“You’re not exactly that, either.”

“I’m Oleg’s submissive.”

“You’re a good girl with a big heart and a very unique brain.”

Samantha huffed. “When you call me that it doesn’t nearly have the same effect as when Oleg does.”

Henri raised an eyebrow. “Call you what? A good girl?”

“Yes. I don’t feel a thing when you say it.”

This seemed to entertain him, and he chuckled. “Maybe that’s because I don’t mean it in the same way.”

She stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t, choosing to gaze out of the window at the sheets of rain as if the conversation was over. This left Samantha with no other recourse. “Then how do you mean it?” she asked.

“Will you let me study you?” Henri asked in return.

She frowned. “No.”

He smiled and nodded, his entertainment seeming to double now.

“What is so funny?” Samantha demanded, leaning forward in her seat.

“Oleg calls you a good girl because you please him. I call you a good girl because you would never hurt anyone.”

“I don’t please you?”

“You don’t want to please me.”

Samantha didn’t know what to say to that. The air between Oleg and her always buzzed with magnetism, but her dynamic with Henri was all about friction. It was the kind of friction that could start a fire, recklessly obliterating everything in its path. He was right. She didn’t want to please him, because no one was crazy enough to strike a match next to a canister of gasoline, not even her. Sure, they’d fucked. Oleg had included his brother Dominants in her submissive training as if it was the most natural of things to do. It pleased Oleg to share her, he told her so himself. But that wasn’t why she felt a griping hunger for more of the same.

“No, I don’t want to please you,” she agreed. “I think you make me want to please myself.”

“Because you know what’s good for you.”

“You think so?” She wanted his real opinion on this, because her whole life, she’d been told she couldn’t possibly know what was best for herself.

“You’ve chosen Oleg. You made him choose you. It’s a good match. You balance each other.” The ring on Henri’s finger clinked against the glass a few times before he drained the last of its contents. Then he placed the glass down with a decided thump. “You are like a lion who has decided that you enjoy the cage her Master has built because it pleases him to see you in it. He has no interest in putting a lock on that cage though. It’s better to let you out and watch you come back to it willingly.”

Samantha rubbed her bottom lip over her glass while she pondered whether to be offended by what Henri had said. Oleg’s pet name for her rang in her ears. Is that why he called her Lionceau? “Maybe I need a cage.”

“He thinks so.”

“What do you think?”

He draped her with a heated stare and then leaned forward over his knees. “I don’t dare presume to know what’s best for you.”

The look in his eyes said he’d rather see her scurry to safety than provide it. There was that friction, sparking and threatening to erupt into a wildfire. Like flames licking at her fingers, Henri was pure danger. And yet that needy place within her wanted to be burned.

Don’t fuck him. Yes. That was probably good advice.

“I remember now. You push, you don’t pull,” she said, repeating Henri’s words from the day she’d agreed to be trained as a submissive. The meaning of that statement resonated with her now. “A push is like a strong encouragement. Pulling would be forcing me against my will.”

“That’s right. But you push back, don’t you?”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know. That unique brain makes you test the limits of our patience.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We’re back to studying me?”

“He said not to open your legs, but there’s nothing keeping you from opening your mind.” He rang for the flight attendant and asked for another cognac. “Don’t look so worried, I’ll make it fun.” He tapped the empty seat next to him.

“Why do I get the feeling that studying me means playing with me?”

“With you, I don’t think there is a difference.”

The attendant brought another glass of amber liquid and removed the soiled one. She said nothing, and Henri didn’t even acknowledge her presence. All of his attention was directed at Sam.

Samantha admired the sharp angle of his jaw line as his chin lifted higher. He was a beautiful man with the kind of refined elegance worthy of prince charming. She wouldn’t call him pretty though, not like Paolo, who seemed to illuminate the room with his smiling chestnut eyes. Oleg’s fiercely handsome face and imposing frame was also a stark contrast to Henri’s classical bone structure and sinewy build. Ivan’s blunt features might be considered dangerously striking by those who never saw his softer side, and his piercing blue eyes usually warned that they’d never be so lucky. But Henri was beautiful like the night sky full of faraway galaxies and mysterious adventures. Samantha watched his chest rise with a slow intake of air. His gray eyes were directed at her as he held that breath for a few beats, and Sam got the distinct feeling that he was looking through her, looking inside of her. He released his breath, and his gaze narrowed.

“Come here,” he said.

Samantha placed her glass down and walked the three steps across the cabin to stand in front of him. Henri reached out and took her hand.

“What would please you right now?” he asked.

Samantha searched herself for the answer. “Your smile. A real one, like the smile you gave me in your kitchen when you accused me of being a spoiled brat.”

She’d thought he would laugh at that, but her statement drew the exact opposite response. His prominent eyebrows cinched over his wintery eyes, which always looked a little sad, even when he was smiling. The frown remained firmly on his face even as she ran her fingers over the wrinkles in his forehead. From her standing position, she watched his icy gaze shift from contemplative caution to bitter contempt in a flash. She pulled back her fingers, but he caught her wrist before she could bring her hand safely back to her side.

“Only darkness makes me smile these days, chérie.” He kissed the top of her knuckles. “And my smiles are not your burden to bear.”

Samantha wasn’t sure why that stung, but it did.

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