Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I needed tenderness. Craved affection. I wanted an anchor of truth in all these dangerous lies.
My lips sparked with flames.
My tongue stung for his wicked taste.
For a single second, our mouths grazed—
“Fuck.” Exploding backward, his fingers unlocked from my neck. Grimacing, he wiped his lips as if I’d tried to poison him. “Don’t.” Pacing the room, he shuddered, and for a horrifying moment, I feared he’d spit on the floor to get my taste off him. “Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me?”
I blinked.
Another bucket of ice plummeted over me.
So…he could tell me no, but I couldn’t?
He could reject me.
Deny me.
Humiliate me.
Why?
He’d kissed me at the club.
He’d kissed me after he chased me outside the castle.
He’d kissed me in the library after we’d vowed to fight side by side.
Those kisses still bruised my lips with the passion he’d poured down my throat. They’d been the hottest kisses of my life. He’d been inside me twice!
What was a silly little kiss compared to sex?
Why did he act as if I’d just committed treason against him?
He doesn’t want you, you dolt.
You’re merely an assignment.
He no longer has to act with you, only for them.
Why the hell would he kiss someone who is just a job?
Awful laughter bubbled up my throat.
He said he noticed me.
That I was different.
But that could’ve just been manipulation to get me to play along.
Maybe he’s married.
Oh God.
And here I was, fawning all over him. Throbbing for him. Ever so close to asking him to touch me because I was going fucking insane with need.
My cheeks burned.
Downstairs.
On his lap.
He’d tried to stop fingering me.
We’d strayed over a line, and I stupidly thought it was a professional one, when really, he might belong to someone else.
“Wow, I…I’m sorry,” I choked. “I didn’t mean…”
I’d felt many things tonight. I wanted to run and hide in equal measure, fight to the death and explode with an orgasm, but I didn’t think rejection would be the one emotion to cripple me.
“Ily…” Henri sighed and raised a hand, his face etching with unspeakable darkness. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, I get it.” I didn’t even care about the cameras as I trembled on the spot. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s not you,” he murmured. “I—”
Someone’s knuckles knocked politely on the door.
“Merde,” he spat. Glowering at me with everything he couldn’t say, he marched toward the door and yanked it open. “Evening.”
“Evening, Master H.” A neatly dressed server rolled in a silver trolly full of dome-covered plates. He spotted me cowering by the bed, no doubt seeing shock and horror all over me.
Giving me a sympathetic nod, he bowed at Henri, then left without another word.
The snick of the lock made me jump.
For a long moment, silence thickened between us.
Henri’s shoulders tensed.
Finally, he snapped his fingers and slipped back into his role of acting Master. His voice was a little loud, ensuring the cameras recorded every command. “Eat, little nightmare. The sooner you have some strength, the sooner I can have some real fun with you. I’m sick of hearing your stomach rumble every time I fuck you.”
Stalking away, he almost bolted into the bathroom.
The door slammed shut.
The shower turned on.
I had two choices.
Let shame turn me stupid, or let sanity keep me alive.
I needed food.
That was the only thing that mattered right now.
Forcing myself to forget the awkwardness I’d caused, I dashed to the trolly in my white negligee. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t hide, but at least I could keep up whatever meagre strength I had.
With hunger-shaking hands, I whipped off the covers and dragged platefuls of fries, club sandwiches, and chocolate mud cake back to bed.
I might harbour unwanted feelings for my capturer turned saviour.
I might die away from my family, brother, and home.
This might be my last meal.
But at least if I died tomorrow, I would die while trying to survive.
Chapter Twenty-Three
………………………….
Henri
I DIDN’T RETURN TO MY bedroom until silence reigned.
No sounds of Ily moaning around every mouthful. No clink of crockery as she traded empty plates for full ones. I sat on the cold stone floor, leaning against the door with my arms on my knees and my head in my hands, sinking into Hades itself.
The way she’d looked at me.
The flush of her skin.
The heat of her barely-given kiss.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know the lust she felt at dinner still haunted her. I’d fucked her but hadn’t finished her. I’d used her for my own gain, just like Victor expected.
We completed our bargain of Master and slave, yet I hadn’t expected it to leave such a nasty aftertaste. Or for my insides to tear into shreds every time I tortured myself remembering what she’d said.
We.
She’d used the word we.
Together.
Despite everything that I’d done to her. Despite the degradation, technical rape, and very real threat of death hovering over both our necks, she still aligned herself with me.